[hr][hr][center][h2][b][i][color=b8860b]Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h2][/center] [b][center][color=b8860b]Location:[/color] Crossed Swords Inn & Tavern [/center][/b][b][center][color=b8860b]Interacting With:[/color] Sana, Kyra [/center][/b][hr][hr] [color=b8860b]"...Right..."[/color] expressed Keystone in a single, lengthened syllable. He wasn't precisely sure what was going on with the rest of the people in the group, and he wasn't in a frame of mind to get into a lengthy discussion about it. He did have an idea that his role in this nigh suicidal, self-appointed campaign against evil leaned more heavily toward beating people and/or things into very messy oblivion [i]significantly[/i] more than exploring bug innards, no matter how helpful it might turn out later. Noting that the rest of the group was anxious to get a move on (and particularly thankful for it), Keystone scooped up one of the insect's light-emitting organs and called to Kyra and Sana, [color=b8860b]"Ey, 'alf a bloody minute then! Gotta grab somethin'."[/color] and dashed up the stairs. His pack was still in his room, or at least the room that he and Sana cohabited the previous night. It seemed untouched since he saw it last, thankfully, and he needed a few things from inside of it. For starters, Keystone carefully opened a sturdy box and snaked out a smallish piece of textured paper. The smell of fine black tea wafted from it before the lid snapped back down. He quickly utilized this piece of paper to wrap the bug squishies into a tight package and slipped it into a pocket. Secondly, he recovered two decent, utilitarian knives in simple sheathes and slid them into his coat, one on either side. Lastly, he took up one of his bandoleers of kunai. In younger years, Keystone had never considered that learning how to throw a knife would be a life saving skill, let alone that he would take to carrying more than one when preparing for a pitched battle. Yet here he was, equipping himself with no less than [i]nine[/i]. His one large, lightly ensorceled seax at his back, the bandoleer of six Shou weapons, and his two occidental blades in his coat. They did tend to round out his usefulness in a fight. He was no expert at it, but he was proficient enough to put the pointy end into the target he was hurling it toward most of the time. Keystone had a feeling that this time, his skills as a Pugilist would be more useful to the group, but it was good to be prepared. Before he left the room, he pulled on a pair of fingerless leather gloves and flexed his hands. It was one of his little rituals. Then the situation became a little more real to him. They were making preparations to go on the offensive. This is when, in his experience, people started to die. Keystone's thoughts drifted toward Sana. He wasn't sure what he felt for her, but he certainly didn't want her to be ripped from this life by the Undead, as he had seen so may others. Keystone shook his head, trying to clear it. Sana was a big girl, she was tough, she was talented. As long as he did his job and she did hers, they all stood a better chance at getting out of this alive. [color=b8860b]"Head clear, old boy. You do yours, yeah?"[/color] he said aloud to himself. Briefly, Keystone considered bringing his coils of rope and grappling hook with him. They were exploring a tower, though, not the caves. Unless the tower joined up with the caves in a lower level, anyway, or they had to rappel from some point on the tower. In the end, he decided not to. This was an exploratory run. In and back before dark. If they came upon something that required a rope and hook, or anything else for that matter, they could come back and resupply. It might have been a little more than a half a minute, but it wasn't very long at all before Keystone found his way back out of the Crossed Swords and with the group. He nodded his head and began to pop the knuckles in either hand, one at a time. With a steady, concerned gaze, he walked over to Sana. In a gravelly but quiet voice, he inquired, [color=b8860b]"You good, Sana?"[/color] She had been out of action for a while, and had only gotten a decent meal and single night's rest since receiving treatment. He was a bit concerned.