[hr][hr][center][h2][b][i][color=b8860b]Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h2][/center]
[b][center][color=b8860b]Location:[/color] Deymins Tower [/center][/b][b][center][color=b8860b]Interacting With:[/color] The Group [/center][/b][hr][hr]

	Keystone took in a deep breath and blew it back out slowly. This was how it started, generally: The Beginning Of The End. After the big, scary, possibly dead guy threw bits and pieces of their army at whomever Keystone happened to be with at the time, prompting a response from all parties involved, blah blah blah, everyone dies. Well, screw that. He wasn't about to deal with the same scenario again. Not this time. There were at least two or three people in this group he'd be honestly choked up over if they got the still living flesh stripped from their bones. 

	[color=b8860b]"Right, my two coppers?"[/color] offered up Keystone, eyeing the tower and the door, [color=b8860b]"I ain't seen a wizard what leans toward death magic ever work decent glamours, so I'd lay money says this's on the ups. But a new door onna old tower's got m'interest all pointy."[/color] 

	Keystone slipped his hands into his coat pockets, withdrawing them as fists adorned with cold, ebon metal - his pair of knuckle dusters he referred to as The Black Knuckles, examples of unparalleled Dwarven craftsmanship applied to an exotic alloy. While not any more effective against the Undead as they were anything else, they possessed a few interesting qualities due to their material, one of which was the capacity to quickly sunder objects that they were applied to with martial force. [i]The door[/i] would suffice. 

	The broad man leaned his head to either side, eliciting a series of impressive popping sounds from his neck. He raised his hands into a pugilist's guard position and inquired colorfully, [color=b8860b]"You want I should knock, then?"[/color]