[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=b8860b]Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h1][hr][b][color=b8860b]Location:[/color][/b] Deymin's Tower (2F) 
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	Alright, so maybe Keystone [i]wasn't[/i] totally mentally prepared to deal with what came next, mostly because 80% of what he expected to come next, or at least some variation of it, decided not to show up to the grand event that would very likely result in a monumental, nigh-epic beating of his arse. If he lived past today, the hulking pugilist very likely would look back upon this hour as one of the least planned, most spectacularly banjaxed combative engagements of his lifetime, complete with (at least) one of his group taking the big dirtnap. He had been party to this scenario, or many like it, for years now. Mostly, these little roadblocks in his life were peppered heavily with the undead. Go figure. 

	So aside from this undertaking utterly sucking out loud, Keystone was left with an option that really wasn't an option. He could either continue downstairs and try to recover Kyra's body, avenge her death against the monstrous centipede that Satilla described briefly and save her dire wolf, [i]or[/i] do what motivated him to skirt around Sana in the first place: Protect his people. Yes, he had to admit to himself that these two-legged social annoyances were, in fact, his people. At least today. And he would be damned thrice over if he was just going to let some necromancer/summoner/asshat run roughshod over any more of them. He had full intent of running blocker for Sana, pulling the attention of the bad guys to himself, and making that smug bastich swallow bloody shards of his own teeth before using his unconscious and/or dead gullet as a pay toilet. 

	[color=b8860b]"Bloody, fonging, bacon-damned 'ell!"[/color] growled Keystone, giving only the barest glance in the direction of the downstairs. He slipped his hands into his pockets, switching out his silver-inlay brass knuckles for a pair of lusterless black ones. They did not have the lunar, purifying qualities attributed to silver, but they had their own interesting and painful quirks that made them worth the investment of his time and money to commission. [color=b8860b]"Ash! Come!"[/color] he roared down the stairs. It was fleeting hope that the noble beast was still alive, or that he would leave the body of his fallen master. Or that he gave a rat's hindparts about listening to Keystone's commands in the least. There was still a centipede down there, a detail he could not easily forget. But Keystone couldn't go down there now. Luck be with the canine, but as stated earlier, there was no real option here. With his mind officially changed on the matter, he turned his attention upstairs and began moving as fast as he could to aid his people.