[hr][hr][center][h2][b][i][color=b8860b]Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h2][/center]
[b][center][color=b8860b]Location:[/color] Woods North of Salarn, Orc Encampment, Evening of Day Three [/center][/b][b][center][color=b8860b]Interacting With: [/color] Bloody Smudge In The Air [/center][/b][hr][hr]

	This was not something Keystone had a whole lot of experience doing, fighting the non-to-semi-corporeal. Generally, he tended to rely on the works of people of piety to handle those types of horrors, even as they had relied on him to pummel their more physical threats back into the dirt from whence they came. But he did have [i]some[/i] experience, and it was better than most. Well, better than most who were alive still, anyway. It was an important distinction. It was also one of the reasons that Keystone trained with a Shou master who was able to barehand strike "the unnatural, the aberrant, and the enchanted" that more mundane methods could not. It was a tricky process, getting a man like him to reach the level of internal discipline and fluidity of thought necessary to incorporate his personal energies into a physical strike. But when that particular floodgate was opened, it could not be undone. No matter how much of a stubborn prick he proved himself, afterwards. 

	And he did. 

	But just now, Keystone was thankful to have unlocked that ability within himself. It gave him a chance to be able to do monumentally stupid things like what he was attempting presently. He rotated his wrist in a breakaway parry, hopeful that he could counter the hold and dig his own fingers into the there but not there form of the Mist. If he got purchase, Keystone intended to get another handful and begin walking backwards, pulling the creature away from Sana. 

	Then again, if he could not, hitting it as hard as he possibly could would have to suffice. It usually did.