[hr][hr][center][h2][b][i][color=b8860b]Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h2][/center]
[b][center][color=b8860b]Location:[/color] Yellow Rose Temple [/center][/b][b][center][color=b8860b]Interacting With:[/color] Satilla, Cyneburg, Guards, Yomdi  [/center][/b][hr][hr]

	Keystone bowed his head to the guards in front of the Temple. There were only two last time; the addition of another set of guards seemed to make sense with the general feeling of malaise that spread across the entirety of Salarn. Something happened here. His expression was grim but open as he entered the Yellow Rose Temple. 

	Solid marble flooring and high ceilings supported by masterfully constructed columns greeted the group. Keystone had been in here before, about a week ago. He remembered the soft sound of his boots connecting with the stone surface beneath them, amplified by the size of the room and material of its construction. Whispers could be heard readily in here, which was usually enough to keep visitors quiet, Keystone imagined. The last time he burped in here, the echo would have left a normal man embarrassed beyond measure. Keystone considered it something of a curiosity. The man there were here to meet, Yomdi, didn't seem to care. He remembered something, and turned to his companions to share. [color=b8860b]"I ought mention, the guy what's in charge 'ere, Master Yomdi? He eh... He walks his own path, y'understand? Grain of salt. Pinch, maybe."[/color] 

	This time visiting, it seemed even quieter. For a few moments, Keystone couldn't quite figure out why. It came to him when he stopped checking rooms and began looking for someone to ask where he might find the Master of the Temple. More specifically, the fact that he couldn't find anyone who wasn't already occupied, if he saw people in the rooms at all. There were far fewer people inside the Yellow Rose Temple than there were a week ago and those that remained looked as haggard as the patrons of the Crossed Swords. 

	It took a little time, but finally Keystone was able to locate Yomdi. He was in his training room, downstairs. It was a room of black marble; walls, floors, and ceiling. Several candles lined the room, giving off serene, lightly flickering illumination. Toward the center sat the mostly decrepit looking (except for a wonderfully folded yellow turban that resembled the Temple's namesake) Master of the Yellow Rose, Yomdi. 

	[color=b8860b]"Master Yomdi, sir?"[/color] said Keystone. There was no response. 

	[color=b8860b]"Ah, Master Yomdi, it's Keystone. Xiang Disciple from north of 'ere, yeah?"[/color] Nothing. 

	[color=b8860b]"Sodding bloody 'ell, old man! C'mon then! Bronzecockery's afoot an' we're needin' some a-fonging-ssistance, y'old cocker!"[/color]

	Slowly, very slowly, Yomdi opened his eyes. Silently, he pressed a finger to his lips, signalling quiet. Then a broad grin took over his weary face, and a somewhat unhinged aspect twinkled in his otherwise tired eyes. He looked to each of the people in turn who had graced his training room uninvited, including the unconscious form of Sana, upon which his gaze lingers for a comparatively longer time. 

	"Yes, yes... Yomdi knows you. The Monk-Who-Is-Not-A-Monk, yes, hmmmmmmmm? You have other friends that have not introduced themselves. Bad manners, very very bad. Especially the pretty young one with the burn scars you carry there. She does not breathe a word at all! How very impolite."

	[color=b8860b]"Master Yomdi, she's a bit indisposed just at the now, which is why..."[/color]

	Yomdi cut him off. "We can't have that! Unconsciousness is no excuse for being rude. Must fix, obviously. Tell me! Tell me how it happened. Tell me what you did to help. All of it."

	Keystone spared no detail.