[center][h3][b][i][color=b8860b]Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h3][/center]
[b][center][color=b8860b]Location:[/color] Yellow Rose Temple, deep interior[/center][/b][b][center][color=b8860b]Interacting With:[/color] Persephone, Yomdi[/center][/b]

Looking to Temple Master Yomdi, the itinerant Keystone then understood that he was truly an old, wise, and ...well, disgusting man. Considering the fact that he had bonged a mightily epic fart through a full bathtub less than an hour ago, he was not in any position to judge. His own social indelicacy would likely be whispered about in this little hamlet for many years to come, told and retold, aggrandized to a thing of myth as the generations warped the retelling of it. The Lens of Time always seemed to magnify events, what few events it allowed through its smoky view. If he didn't do some massive Hero work, that would be his legacy in this corner of the world. 

The "training" that Yomdi proposed would not help with his reputation in this regard. All the same, there might be some wisdom in accenting his natural gastrointestinal talents. 

[color=b8860b]"Cracked a wine glass that way earlier, I did. I was closer, though."[/color]

Maybe this was about control. Putting the same kind of focus and muscle control into his belch that he did expelling his fetid and infernal ass air earlier in the evening. Truth be told, he didn't even think about funneling personal energies through concentrated eructation. The technique wouldn't involve the manipulation of air, at least not directly. It would be more accurate to state that it was a manipulation of self, thusly expelling air. It was worth a try. His stomach still had not calmed, at least not fully, from the events prior to entering the temple. 

Cautiously, Keystone swallowed a mouthful of air. While not the totality of the the belch he tried to summon, he hoped it would be the primer necessary to draw upon the reserves of gasses in his stomach. As a practiced motion, he brought his feet out into a widened stance and clasped one hand in the other before his chest, index fingers extended and pointed skyward. He took in a deep breath, and began to resonate a low, steady hum, a method utilized by a man trying to center himself. His abdominal muscles contracted and released in a manner to which he was not fully accustomed. He could feel a familiar stirring. 

His meditative hum was joined by a second sound - a bubbling drone hidden inside of his dense flesh, seeming to respond to and reinforce his vocal monotone. The source of this noise ascended slowly from the pit of his stomach to the center of his chest, working, fighting its way into his throat. 

It was there that the two noises merged. It became something resonant, echoing itself and entwining, asserting itself into a noise beautiful and frightening to witness. Just as the living dynamic of sound and vapor began to backdraft through his sinus cavity, Keystone threw his hands to his sides, balling large hands into inverted fists and opening his mouth wide to accommodate the surge of wind and sound. 

[color=b8860b]"...mmmmMmmmMMMMMMMrrrrrRRRRRAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRG!"[/color]

It was a sound, comparatively brief for its intensity, a thing birthed by a thousand tiny keystrikes of a hellriffic piano, hammering upon his vocal cords with rapid precision as to disguise their separateness, the individual parts merging to draft an unmelodic, foamy whole. The concussion wave of its entrance into the greater world, while not a thing of intense power, was tangible enough to those present, as was the sonic reverberation of the act; it rattled in the bones of their chests with burbled gusto.

The robe upon the ground did not rise, nor did it dance for Keystone. There was no graceful arc and sudden dip. There was promise, however. A corner peeled from the ground and settled atop itself. A start, at the least. 

[color=b8860b]"I ain't got the control I need on it just yet, Master Yomdi. But I'm knowing how to start. I'll meditate on it, then, and get back with you when our job's done, if'n I can."[/color] He nodded to Persephone and continued, [color=b8860b]"When we're done here, we ought get back to the others. Preparations, and such, eh?"[/color]

Keystone bowed his head and tapped his knuckles together, then stepped backwards. It was a gesture of respect, for the older Master and Persephone both, signaling the end of his required attentions.