No better accommodations available than the Inn housing the refugees near the slums. Panic, or something near to it, beginning. Prices skyrocketing on food and supplies. Keystone started looking a few hours too late, and cursed himself for it. He had a little money; his traveling companion had already made his decision to stay and fight. How he envied the Half-Orc. Raa knew exactly what he had to do. Smart decision or not, it was (with certainty) the right thing. Keystone hated running, but for now understood his limitations. 

The best option was probably to keep moving, try to blend into the crowds of people fleeing for their lives. This was not the path he wanted to take. Doing nothing was going to kill so many more people. Just not today, probably not tomorrow. He needed to know more. 

First, he had promises to keep. 

The Xiang Temple for morning calisthenics. Keystone stepped onto the training grounds, bowed as best he could considering his ignorance of their protocol, and respectfully entered the lessons. He was curious to see how the present monks had a method of combining internal power and their own outer strength, and focus it into marvelous effects of damage. 

His own style and method of training was very heavily slanted to physical technique and body conditioning - hands of iron and dense flesh, reflex training, knowing where to strike. Keystone knew how to ignore weapons and bypass armor. He was lethal, moreso than most armed soldiers. These people, though, had a disciplined way about them that allowed for truly mystical abilities. He could easily keep up physically. He could outpunch and outlast most all of them in raw strength and stamina, but that was not the point of study today. Several times during his training session that morning, Keystone felt himself coming near to a breakthrough, a familiar energy trying to express itself through him, but the execution simply fell short. 

He had heard of something like this before, when he was younger. Older, more experienced brawlers in the underground boxing arenas said they were able to focus themselves to cause more damage. Even practiced a bit, to the same lack of success as the present. In his youth, he thought they were saying "Cheese Attacks". Without a mentor or the writings of a master to guide him, he had only halfway figured out how to harness his Inner Cheese before he gave up to focus on what became his signature Iron Fist technique. Given his situation, it was time to give it another shot. 

It wasn't until he said his goodbyes and began walking from the Temple that he slapped his forehead with his gargantuan hand, putting two and two together from his conversations inside. "[i]Chi[/i]! Chi Attacks! Dear gods, I am a moron..." This was something to speak about with the Grandmaster at his appointment the next day. 

Keystone spent the next couple of hours shopping around for offers of employment, trying to look as solid yet approachable as possible. The offer of coin aside, he let it be known that he was willing to take partial payment in quality traveling supplies. Money was fast losing value in this city, nearby places very soon, as well. 

Around midday, a curious scratching sensation came from his pocket, as if someone were bearing down on him to scribble on parchment. Taking out Meriv's note, it seemed someone was. As a matter of coincidence (yeah, right), the exact amount of money required to speak with a junior historian for five minutes was how much he was given the previous day for his Fireball scroll. Maybe it was a bargain, but he doubted it. Keystone immediately turned and walked to the Hall of the Avenging Hammer. 

He tracked down the priest he had spoken with the previous day. Busy or not, the second he was finished helping parishioners, he began in a moderate voice, "Glith. You know something, I could see it in your face yesterday. You're pushing an ally to the Red Wizards to keep from saying. GLITH. How do I fight him, or how do I hide from him? I need time and I need knowledge to make this right, and you're keeping me from it, priest."

He could sense that his urgency was coming off as an attempt at intimidation, and softened his voice slightly, "I'm in a special position to actually do some good. Real good, if you can help figure out my visions. If you've good reason why you can't help me, let me know now. We ain't got a lot of time."