[hr][hr][center][h2][b][i][color=b8860b]Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h2][/center]
[b][center][color=b8860b]Location:[/color] Deymins Tower (2F) [/center][/b][b][center][color=b8860b]Interacting With:[/color] Huh? [/center][/b][hr][hr]

        The first inclination that Keystone had in this confusing time was vocalized with the sage advice of [color=b8860b]"Boy might ought put some pants on, if'n he wants t'keep fightin' evil with us today..."[/color] as he strode through the door to the room that was now revealed as a bedroom of sorts. A bedroom hidden by magic. And protected by undead soldiers. 

        Nope, nuh-uh, complete and utter negative. The kindly old guy tending to the ever so needy and despondant dead guy in the bed was a nice touch, too. Admittedly, that was a little strange. Not completely unprecedented to Keystone, but strange nonetheless. Whomever this person [i]was[/i], he was special to the peculiar, robed antagonist. The undead thing was here for a reason. 

        This was one of the times when Keystone wished that he brought more to the table than his ability to hit things. It was damned useful, granted, and everybody respects the living weapon; it was just that so much more was going on here than was obvious and he didn't even know what questions to ask. He did know that this was likely the person responsible for the death of so many townspeople (and orcs), and lacking other practical option, handled it thusly: 

        Striding into the room fully, Keystone held his hands at the ready. As he moved purposefully, coming to stand next to the Ranger lady with the platinum hair, he leaned back on his usual underclass sarcasm. [color=b8860b]"Allo then! Sodly Bintfist, [i]at your service[/i], m'Lord! Sellin' buttons, we are - how're ya stocked on fasteners, oi?"[/color]