Making a second pass along the outside of the keep, monitoring the growth of his latest handiwork, the sounds of fighting erupted from the desecrated first floor dining hall, followed by a loud rhythmic banging.

"[color=7bcdc8]... the hells 'em kids a doin' in'ere ..[/color]" the bear grumbled irritably.  Saying he was 'put out' by all this was a gross understatement;  while he did his best to be chipper and jovial most of the time, he HAD inherited more than just a little of his dad's crude and volatile temperament-- being tortured with food, then being made a mockery of by planting him in it, then being tossed like a sack of manure, then forcing him to have to wear his own piss to evade having his lungs seared, then being nearly blasted by friendly fire had left him more than just a little cross, and the absurd and persistent clanging mixed with the shouts and screams of the villagers to the south had him in a rather foul mood indeed.

He looked in through one of the fouled windows and saw that thuggish brute still swinging in there, with a bucket on his head with a seemingly animated hammer drumming on it, making a terrible racket. It *WAS* a humorous spectacle, but he was so over this guy. 

Then he remembered the diabolical thought he had intended for the muscle-bound
bruiser.

'[color=7bcdc8]Hoy![/color]' He shouted in through the window, while ripping the decayed and crispy black vegetation from the opening. "[color=7bcdc8]Shove 'at fuck'r o'er dis a way![/color]"

He grinned wickedly, allowing his malign intent to color the expression with a lurid intensity, while beckoning his companions to drive the bastard toward the cleared window.