Keystone's words seemed to fall upon no ears other than his own, carried away by the wind. The statue's eyes flared up with a neutral blue glow and it, he, turned towards the monk, stepping out of the basin. With ease Glith pulled the sword Kaylee free from the ground and leveled it in one hand, blade hanging low and open to the side.

"I have finally found you. The time required was most...worrying," spoke Glith with an air of benevolence. "Return her now and you still have a chance at a normal life. I have no trouble with you: it is the spirit I want." the suit took a few more steps forward, until it and the monk were separated by but a few strides and just out of reach of the blade. The knight's blue eyes flared with a calm and repeating motion, illustrating...compassion? as far as Keystone could make out.

Keystone felt a firm hand on his shoulder as Saran stepped in beside him:
"There is great evil contained in that abomination. We can fight it, Keystone. We can win," she whispered into his ear. Keystone felt a surge of energy course from her hand through his shoulder and to the rest of his body, strengthening the fighter's form.
Glith's faceless visage turned towards her. Keystone did not need to see Saran to know what she was going through: her hand dug deep into his shoulder and the she-mage took an involuntary step behind the monk.

"What's this? A mirage? Tis cruel to make an old knight feel such pity," the suit chuckled, amused by Saran's reaction. "Tis a strange tale, that girl in your head. You would do well to be careful," it said and turned away slightly. The feint was clear a second later when the knight spun back around, dragging the sword through the sand to throw it into the monk's face.

"Give her back!" the knight roared, falling into a defensive stance.

Despite the growing headache and the mounting anger that was starting to strain his will, Keystone felt another influx of strength and vitality, but not from Saran. His muscles hardened until they were as smooth as stone. Saran fell back behind him and started concentrating. Glith chuckled and took a step back, starting an incantation of his own.

Fury and magic coursed through Keystone as he stepped aggressively into combat with the specterous entity known as Glith. Perhaps there indeed was more to this story. In fact, he was certain of it. This mattered for nothing in Keystone’s estimation - the urgency of the situation spurred him onward.

Glith spoke arcane syllables, foreign to Keystone’s experience aside from the fact that they were indeed intonations of mystical origin. He lifted his hands, his knuckles black and ominous with Avar’s forgework adorning them, ready for their first test of battle. Keystone closed the distance with an aggressive stance, and hammered powerful blows into the bulwark that was the undead Knight.

Aggressive but wary - their last confrontation almost ended badly, Glith tricking the stalwart pugilist into closing in quickly by pretending to cast a slow and powerful incantation. He didn’t want to make the same mistake again, and held just a little back for defensive measure.

The reality being that, instead of initiating a ruse, the undead knight was in fact intoning a spell did little to ease Keystone’s concerns about the direction the brawl was headed. The disciplined fighter knocked Glith about, manhandled him into a position of martial advantage. For Keystone, that advantage lay in his opponent surrounded by the worked stone of the fountain behind him.

Hardened in his need to control the outcome of the fight, Keystone barely noticed that, while his magically infused strength and stamina allowed him an easily perceived advantage, he was doing no real injury to Glith. The creature continued casting his spell, declining the opportunity to attack back with any real gusto.

Keystone pressed onward, a sense of urgency filling him like ravenous hunger. Glith continued casting, his vocal cues seeming to hint at arrogance and finality; whatever was to occur next would proceed unimpeded unless he were thwarted in that half-moment.

A rolling parry block turned fluidly into an opening, filled by either hand performing flawless verted and inverted palm heel strikes, Keystone’s wrists facing each other and fingers curled into talon-like shapes, ready for the next series of maneuvers. Even if his conscious mind did not register the game of melee chess into which he was locked, his training still had the martial adept planning three moves ahead.

In that second, half second, instant - time became quite malleable to the perception when locked in mortal combat - several things happened. Glith staggered backwards under the relentless assault of his mortal opponent, into the fountain’s basin. His incantations ceased. Saran let out a pained cry from behind Keystone, and Keystone... lost his advantage. The entity known as Kaylee, with the accompanying headache, disappeared, as did the enchantments placed on the Pugilist by his magely companion. To make matters worse, as the large man opened himself to the arcane flow of Elemental Earth, he found it quite unresponsive. The bastard had cut him off, removed any ties he had to magic, be it spiritual, enchanted, or elemental. His plans to use the fountain’s material as an ally in this fight were dashed in the exchange.

Magic may have the power to still magic, but not the abilities of a disciplined mind and powerful body. At least, not that spell. Keystone was still a deadly formidable fighter, trained by many masters of the craft of ancient martial technique and old-fashioned bareknuckle beatdownery. He wasted no more time.

When last they fought, he discovered (almost too late) the blood seal that kept the undead construct’s soul attached into his armor. It was inside the collar, waiting to be marred. Damage it enough, and the armor is rendered inert. At least, that’s what he was certain happened last time.

The formerly living knight glared past Keystone, to Saran behind him, and began another spell. No. Not this time. He was done watching people get hurt. He never came to depend on magic, not was he going to start today.

Whether confidence or desperation motivated him more, he could not say. Whatever it was carried him without hesitation as he leapt into the basin, body twisting into a Monk’s stance in midair. The first two fingers of his left hand extended, searching for a proper point to target. It found an excellent one in this flat of Glith’s sword, a half foot from the crossguard. As much force as he could muster concentrated into the small space of two fingertips, unbalancing the movement of the light but massive blade, turning it away from Keystone and opening the walking corpse-in-a-can to attack. His other hand was opened to a rigid spearhand, utilizing the combined leverage of the leap and his torso rotating his shoulder forward. On any normal man this would be a telling blow. Keystone just hoped it would be enough to gain access into the monster’s armor.

Success met him, exploited the opening of his helmet as he quickly turned his forearm and curled his fingers into a proper forefist strike inside Glith’s metal carapace, the dull, scraping thud of displaced bone and metal colliding with each other muted by the properties of his Dwarven knuckle dusters.

With luck, and lots of it, this would be the third time he’d seen Glith defeated, and the second time he’d done it himself. But luck was a thing untrusted and rare.

The monk's head raged with sharp pain for seconds and then completely cleared up, as if a giant rock had been removed from his head. When he looked up, he saw that he was no longer standing up, but sitting slouched against a wall in the middle of Two Stars, facing the fountain. Across the pavement, half sitting half leaning on the marble basin, was the all too familiar figure of Glith.

Keystone noticed that a sharp stomach pain and his muscles protesting anything more than sluggish movements. He involuntarily squinted at the sun, now high up in the sky and took a while to adjust to his surroundings. His knuckles and armour were nowhere to be found, as was any indication of his horse, Saran, or their shared saddlebags.

Two Stars was a lot dirtier than he remembered. Stray bits of hay, bricks, chunks from walls and various other props littered the square. The fountain's water supply was slightly murky, reflecting a reddish sort of colour as it flowed down into the basin. A stray sword and broken spear were visible towards the town entrance, but of people there was no sign.

The undead knight seemed...exhausted?...as he leaned on the fountain, staring at Keystone with eyes that kept flickering out of existence. On the knight's armour he could see a few dents in the same places the monk had struck. The sword that the knight held in his left hand and used as a makeshift crutch was proudly displaying the glowing inscription: Kaylee.

"So..." Glith forced out, his voice displaying the exhaustion his features couldn't, "I have finally done it. She's back with me. You should leave, human, before you suffer any more," the knight rose to his full height, trying to appear as menacing as possible. The attempt was undermined by a slight slouch and the sword visibly digging into the dirt as the full weight of the undead came to rest upon the pommel.

A sudden sputtering sound issued from Keystone's lips, a bout of laughter that he (for whatever reason) tried to keep in. He waved away the grand gesture of intimidation the undead knight put to him, and gave up all pretense of holding back his mirth.

He laughed. Loud and long and clear. He pounded his fist on the wall, even wiped a tear from one eye. He wasn't sure if he was royally screwed, or if this was just another step in the convoluted plot that was his life recently.

"Boy, I'll tell ya, ya bony git..." intoned Keystone in a weary bass, "I ain't laughed so hard since I was a li'l girl. Really. Bra-sodding-vo. Look at y'self. You're about a menacing as a bloody housecat just now. And I'm not leavin', for a couple reasons what should be plain."

Keystone glanced around at his surroundings, really noting the subtle and not so subtle changes.

"So let's have it, then. How 'bout you fill in a couple whys for me? I got time. Obviously you do. We can both use a rest."

During the as yet one-sided conversation, Keystone kept his hand on the wall. Carefully, he tested his ability to manipulate and respond to Earth, pressing a fingertip lightly and trying to leave a mild indentation.

The undead let out a wheeze that would have been a laugh in any other situation, rising to full height and casually lifting and swinging the blade in his right hand.
"Did you really think I was tired, Keystone? I have nothing that gets tired!" the knight laughed, his weariness gone as quickly as it came. "Humans are so easily fooled by theatrics. Gnomes, on the other hand, are much harder to trick, the suspicious creatures." The knight glanced to his sides and returned his gaze to Keystone, effortlessly sliding the greatsword into its scabbard and crouching a few feet away from Keystone:
"You should listen to your elders. You're a victim here, affected by dark magic until I freed you. Don't make an enemy when you could walk away with your life. I don't know what she has shown or convinced you of; it's all a lie. Leave while you still can, Keystone." the knight's voice lowered to a low grumble and conveyed an obvious threat, mixed with another emotion Keystone couldn't place.
"I will answer three questions you have and no more. Then you and I go our ways and never meet one another again." The monk's senses told him that the relaxed attitude the knight was portraying was merely an act, much like thieves and fighters could fake being drunk and spring on someone a moment later.

Keystone felt the surge or energy in his body as his mind called upon the forces of the earth. The small indentation he had intended to cause turned into a shallow, but wide dent in the stone wall, about two fingers wide. The monk felt like he could move the entire building if he wished so.

The streets of Two Stars weren't as empty as they first appeared: in the corner of his eye, the monk spotted a face in a nearby window, watching the pair with undiluted fear and excitement. Several quiet shuffles alerted the monk that the building he was leaning against was occupied.

The radical changes of the last hour were giving Keystone a headache, Kaylee's presence or not. It was a touch of nigh global absurdity, the utter chaos of it. The changes of the town (or the nature of his presence therein, he wasn't 100% on the details), the seeming invulnerability of his adversary despite defeat, now the absence of his companion and their belongings were grating his nerves. Were it just himself, the weary pugilist would have gladly taken Glith up on his offer, if it could be believed. He was very close to his personal limit of reality alteration and epic intrigue.

Instead, he breathed heavily and leaned back onto the wall upon which his hand rested. He kept his spirit open to the voice of his Element, planning one of three actions based upon how the next few minutes went.

"Not really. But y'went to so much trouble lookin' beat, I didn't wanna seem rude. Kudos to the Gnomes, though." he shifted his conversational priorities, genuinely eager to get this over with but not so stupid as to believe that this was really over.

"First the only way was to put a sword in my gut and make my insides outside. Now you're tellin' me you just miracled the problem away, no hassle. Now, I'm right certain Kaylee wasn't full-on honest with me; couplea things didn't exactly even out. But you - You've been tossin' me wankstain gibberish since the beginnin', too. All the same, I'm eager to put this behind me for the day, get back to why I came here in the first. So let's play."

"I came 'ere with a friend, but you knew that. Horses, too. Gear, supplies, and a plan what didn't involve you an' I gettin' all punchy with one another. I'm wantin' to get back to that. Would have, if you didn't do what you did. How are we getting me and mine back on track?"

The knight's magical eyes shifted for a second and Keystone swore he could see a magical eyebrow arc. He looked around the square and faced the monk again.
"Your green friend insisted that I was evil and must be vanquished. I want to...ehm...live, so it was either me or him. I suspect she got to him much more than she did to you. Sadly, the orcish knight will never see the light of day again. You look like someone who would understand the 'kill or be killed' choice we often have to make," the undead rasped. "I do not enjoy killing, as little choice as I'm often left."

The animated armour took a few steps back and sat down on the basin.
"I don't know what horses or supplies you had. If they are in this dustbin, you can find them. I am no thief, nor in the habit of killing livestock for fun," he continued. "That would be the second question. One more, and you leave."

Keystone's response demonstrated irritation, brought about by what he hoped was misunderstanding and not deliberate trickery on the part of the undead knight in front of him.

"Nah, I ain't on about that friend. I know full well what happened with Raa. Saw his resting spot, took a bag of his graveyard dirt and all. He went out swinging 'gainst an undead enemy (that'd be you), and died clean. More or less, anyways. Dunno what his Code O' Honor says on it, but when you went down before, that slight was answered. Pity you got back up, but again, I dunno what the Knightly rules are on that. That wasn't my question. I'll try and be a bit more plain as to what I'm meanin' with my first question, owin' as we likely got us a language barrier. Don't worry, I got no mind on sticking about any more'n I have to."

"When my knuckles made connection with your blood seal, last time, just earlier," continued Keystone, speaking as plainly as possible with enunciation far clearer than his usual underclass banter, "Something happened. I came in here with a lady, whom I'm interested in keeping sound. I had a shiny new coat, and unshiny black knuckle dusters. We had horses. We had provisions. My question, plainly, is how I may re-acquire that woman and our things? Including the items I had on my bloody person, something you'd be witness to. THAT is my question. The rest was civil conversing. Further, when we came into this town, today, we did so intending to see to business that would have been half done by now, except that this scuffle happened. You have delayed our leaving."

Looking at the situation objectively, this could quite possibly have been Keystone's longest conversation with a corporeal dead person. At least, one with the capacity to answer back. It had been a very strange few weeks, that was for certain. Yet somehow, it always came back to The Dead, Un or otherwise. But usually Un. Odd life fate had picked out for him.

Glith shifted on the stone, the old metal armour scratching as it moved.
"Monk, if you're playing games with me, be warned: I do not enjoy being taken for a fool. Those who do tend to end up worse than your orc friend," he intoned, almost seething with anger, "you are not stupid, and you don't have any more allies in this town, female or otherwise. The orc and the dragonborn were your only companions, and I have not seen her since we last met. Took me a day to prepare the spell that would break Kaylee's hold on you. Do you take me for a liar? If you had other companions, they would be here, living or dead, and I would know about them." The knight sounded supremely confident in that statement, rising to his feet. "As I said before, I am not a thief. Perhaps I should take that head off your shoulders for insinuating such things!" he roared, a metal hand going to the hilt of his blade. The anger vanished as quickly as it came, and the sword slid back into its scabbard.

"You've had your chance to ask what you wanted. I am tired of killing and have more pressing matters to attend to, matters that do not include this dustbowl of a village. Go find this woman of yours. I sincerely hope she is not made of air, or the result of you laying in the sun for days..." The knight started off deeper into the town, puffing up dust clouds with each step.

Now that the undead knight started off, the monk could feel that he was being watched. The windows creaked open a bit more and the monk heard a raspy male whisper from the window above him:
"Are you alright? We weren't sure ye'd live when it was done with ye!"

Keystone was done. He'd had just about enough dealings with an immortal and possibly unkillable enemy, an enigmatic spiritual force that might or might not be a prime source of Evil and/or a former farm maiden, and bouts of shifting reality. It was a good time to find Saran and their equipment, then finish what he came back to Two Stars to accomplish. Glith be damned, Kaylee be damned. If he and Sir Rottingarse had an accord, however shaky, he was willing to go along with it.

After he got back to Telflamm, he would be certain to turn over any information about the situation he had gleaned over the past couple of weeks to Tyr's people. They absolutely lived for epic quests to destroy ancient undead abominations.

Glith continued to exit scene, Keystone continued to watch him, thoughts of disinterest and distance playing heavily in his mind. At this time, the tiny creak of a window shutter drew his attention above, bringing with it the question of the hour: "Are you alright? We weren't sure ye'd live when it was done with ye!"

"Yeah, I'm just tops." breathed Keystone. It wasn't quite a whisper, as he wasn't trying to quiet himself; more of a barely audible vocalization of an internal monologue. He craned his neck up to see with whom he was speaking, and continued his thought with greater volume, "I'm missing some lot of things, including my friend and my weapons. And this place used to look a lot different. What exactly in sodding 'ell is goin' on here?"

The voice belonged to an older man, his face wrinkled by years of work in the open sun. The window creaked open and Keystone could see the man handing him a can of milk and half a loaf of bread.
"Which one of your friends do you mean, Keystone? I know you've been brawling with most folk around here, and none come close to you with ill intent. Hell, you've saved me from being beaten up a few more times than I dare to admit," the man pondered, "never seen you use anything but fists, so I wouldn't know where you would hide those." He took a sip from a similar can, filled with a mixture of ale and strong cider that Keystone came to know as "Mugger's Extract" during his time in Two Stars.

"Two Stars is the same old town we know, never changed much. Well, aside from that terrifying hunk of metal. Came in here, slaughtered the whole militia, some mage, a dragonborn and a greenskin, herded everyone inside their houses under penalty o' death and sat next to you for all of two days, mumbling something with no end to it. Then, all of a sudden, stands up, I hear a few loud bangs and the thing reels back like a blacksmith hit it with a hammer. Left a few dents, too! You came to your senses, and here we are!" the man ended on an almost cheerful note. "Don't know how you did it, but I gander we owe ye some gratitude for getting rid of it afore it killed more." The man reached down to clink his can with Keystone's.

The armoured undead seemed to vanish as soon as it went out of sight. One by one, the doors on the street opened and terrified, but curious townsfolk poured out to attempt and continue their day. A few brave souls explored the way Glith left and came back a short while later with good news. Keystone noticed the many curious but scared glances his way and nobody but the man, still in his window, approached him.

A short while later Two Stars was as back to normal as a town with a pile of bodies could be. Keystone saw a few horse messengers gallop by in the direction of Telflamm.