JollyDoc
Explorer
A Monk’s Tale
Adso watched the Shadow Clock fall from a shadowy storefront a block away. He had seen Wesh’s fireball and the druid’s lightning strikes, and he had witnessed the incredible escape of Skud and Dexter from the main door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the monster fly off into the night, and he hung his head with shame.
He had been true to his charge of protecting Luther. The situation at the top of the tower was hopeless, and his magical ability to fly was their only way of escape. Had he not fled, they both would surely be dead. Still, Adso felt shame in abandoning his new friends. Was he letting new allegiances cloud his judgment? Why did he feel so conflicted?
Later that night, the Sandpoint…now Six, gathered back at Foxglove’s townhouse to lick their wounds. The exhausted companions said little, and retired to their rooms, too tired even to consider setting a watch.
Adso lay on the floor of Luther’s darkened room. Some of the others called him Luther’s Hound, but he didn’t care. His monastic training under Master Xaolin was hard and harsh. Adso had never slept on a soft bed. The floor was all he had ever known.
He could sense Luther’s fear, and the priest’s breathing – usually so calm and measured, was ragged and unsteady. “Peace, my brother,” whispered Adso. “We live to fight on. We live to fight on so that others may have peace.”
“I’m just not much of a fighter, I guess,” the young priest replied, his voice quavering with despair.
Adso leaned up, and said more strongly, “You have faced down terrible evils. You have stood your ground against your own companions. No one questions your bravery or your compassion. You are a fighter, Luther.”
Silence met Adso’s words. He knew that Luther was not asleep, but the priest did not respond. After a time, even the stubborn monk succumbed to sleep.
He awoke to Luther packing bags. Adso arched a scarred eyebrow at his friend.
“I’m leaving,” said Luther. “I completed my mission in Sandpoint, and I aim to return there to begin work on a real hospital.”
“So we are leaving today,” asked Adso?
“I am leaving today. You are staying here with the others.” Adso leapt to his feet in objection but Luther cut him off, “They need you. Our work is not done. This is no longer a local problem in a tiny town. Someone is after the power of the Runelords. A great and ancient evil is at work, and it is your job to fight it.”
“My job is to protect you,” protested the monk.
“And you have. We would all have died last night if you hadn’t saved me. But you have completed your duty to me and to Windsong Abbey”, said Luther.
The priest continued, “Last night I prayed for direction – for you.” He paused, looked Adso in the eyes, and said, “You are to seek out Irori. Go his temple for guidance and for a boon from the Master of Masters.”
Adso returned his friend’s heartfelt look, and bowed low to the young priest. “Thank you.” But the monk’s heart was still conflicted, and his thoughts and emotions were in turmoil as he bade his friend farewell.
******************
The next day, after the meeting with Lord-Mayor Grobaras, Adso began walking the streets of Magnimar. He barely knew anything about the great city, but he trusted his faith, and eventually found what he sought. Before him stood a low brick building with no windows and a simple but sturdy wooden door. Upon the door was a faded blue handprint – the symbol of Irori. He knocked at the door, using a special sequence known only to initiates of his order. Almost instantly, the door swung inward, and a young student in white training robes bowed before the monk. “Welcome brother. Please come inside.”
After a brief introduction, and only a barely noticeable glance at the half-orc’s distinctive racial features, the student escorted Adso down a short hallway. In rooms to either side, the monk noticed the usual trappings of Irori’s faith. One room was obviously a small library and classroom. Another contained padded leather mats on the floor and exercise equipment. At the end of the hall, a simple white curtain bearing the blue handprint of Irori blocked an archway. The student pulled the curtain aside and motioned for Adso to enter.
The monk found himself in a small circular shrine. The smoke of spicy incense hung in the air, and candles glowed faintly in the haze. As was the custom of Irori’s faithful, the shrine was sparsely furnished and there were no representations of the Master of Masters. A single blue handprint over a low stone altar gave the only indication that this was indeed a temple of Irori.
A man knelt at the altar, a long gray braid down his back, which was turned to the monk. After a moment, he rose and turned to Adso. He was of medium height for a human, and he wore a simple blue robe with an amulet of a blue fist on a chain around his neck. The man’s face was weathered, but strong. His dark eyes were impossible to fathom, but a small smile showed white teeth against his swarthy skin.
“Master,” said the young student, “this is Brother Adso from Windsong Abbey.”
The master reached out and embraced the half-orc in ritual greeting. Adso returned the greeting, and then both men sat down facing each other on the floor before the altar. The student bowed again to both and retreated behind the white curtain.
Adso began, “Master, I have traveled a long path and faced many dangerous foes without fear or hesitation. Yet now I find myself both fearful and unsure of my next step.” He briefly related his original charge to protect the young priest, and told of his further adventures with the Sandpoint Seven.
The older man listened intently to the monk’s tale. Finally, Adso related his last conversation with Luther, and the master’s expression turned serious. “Brother Adso, I trust that you are aware that the Master of Masters claims the domain of Runes as his own, yes?”
Adso frowned and thought for a moment. He was not very studious - it was just one of his many imperfections and failings as a servant of Irori. Of course he knew that! Suddenly many things became clear to the monk. How stupid of him not to think that Irori would be keenly interested in the Runelords and those who sought to emulate them. “I have been a blind, stupid fool,” sighed the half-orc.
The master smiled gently at the monk’s sudden comprehension. “Do not punish yourself my son. Only the Master of Masters is perfect. The rest of us can only hope to strive towards enlightenment and to help each other along the path of wisdom.”
He continued, “I have had a vision from Irori that dark times are upon us. Your friend is right. His duty now lies elsewhere. Your duty is to continue the fight against this darkness with your other companions.”
“This will aid you in your fight,” the master removed the amulet from around his neck and pressed it into Adso’s huge palm. “It will imbue your fists and your body with Irori’s holy power so that you may vanquish His enemies.”
“Thank you, Master,” said the monk, bowing his head to the floor. “I will wear it with reverence.”
The master rose and escorted Adso to the door of the building. The monk bowed low to the him, and they embraced again. “Go with Irori’s blessing, my son,” said the master.
The young student opened the door, and bowed to Adso. The monk returned the bow and with one last grateful look at the master, took his leave.
The door closed behind him, and Adso looked down at the amulet still in his hand. He reverently slipped the silver chain around his neck, feeling the cool weight of the amulet on his chest. Adso began walking back to find his friends. With a new sense of power, and a renewed sense of purpose, the monk knew that he was again on the right path.
Adso watched the Shadow Clock fall from a shadowy storefront a block away. He had seen Wesh’s fireball and the druid’s lightning strikes, and he had witnessed the incredible escape of Skud and Dexter from the main door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the monster fly off into the night, and he hung his head with shame.
He had been true to his charge of protecting Luther. The situation at the top of the tower was hopeless, and his magical ability to fly was their only way of escape. Had he not fled, they both would surely be dead. Still, Adso felt shame in abandoning his new friends. Was he letting new allegiances cloud his judgment? Why did he feel so conflicted?
Later that night, the Sandpoint…now Six, gathered back at Foxglove’s townhouse to lick their wounds. The exhausted companions said little, and retired to their rooms, too tired even to consider setting a watch.
Adso lay on the floor of Luther’s darkened room. Some of the others called him Luther’s Hound, but he didn’t care. His monastic training under Master Xaolin was hard and harsh. Adso had never slept on a soft bed. The floor was all he had ever known.
He could sense Luther’s fear, and the priest’s breathing – usually so calm and measured, was ragged and unsteady. “Peace, my brother,” whispered Adso. “We live to fight on. We live to fight on so that others may have peace.”
“I’m just not much of a fighter, I guess,” the young priest replied, his voice quavering with despair.
Adso leaned up, and said more strongly, “You have faced down terrible evils. You have stood your ground against your own companions. No one questions your bravery or your compassion. You are a fighter, Luther.”
Silence met Adso’s words. He knew that Luther was not asleep, but the priest did not respond. After a time, even the stubborn monk succumbed to sleep.
He awoke to Luther packing bags. Adso arched a scarred eyebrow at his friend.
“I’m leaving,” said Luther. “I completed my mission in Sandpoint, and I aim to return there to begin work on a real hospital.”
“So we are leaving today,” asked Adso?
“I am leaving today. You are staying here with the others.” Adso leapt to his feet in objection but Luther cut him off, “They need you. Our work is not done. This is no longer a local problem in a tiny town. Someone is after the power of the Runelords. A great and ancient evil is at work, and it is your job to fight it.”
“My job is to protect you,” protested the monk.
“And you have. We would all have died last night if you hadn’t saved me. But you have completed your duty to me and to Windsong Abbey”, said Luther.
The priest continued, “Last night I prayed for direction – for you.” He paused, looked Adso in the eyes, and said, “You are to seek out Irori. Go his temple for guidance and for a boon from the Master of Masters.”
Adso returned his friend’s heartfelt look, and bowed low to the young priest. “Thank you.” But the monk’s heart was still conflicted, and his thoughts and emotions were in turmoil as he bade his friend farewell.
******************
The next day, after the meeting with Lord-Mayor Grobaras, Adso began walking the streets of Magnimar. He barely knew anything about the great city, but he trusted his faith, and eventually found what he sought. Before him stood a low brick building with no windows and a simple but sturdy wooden door. Upon the door was a faded blue handprint – the symbol of Irori. He knocked at the door, using a special sequence known only to initiates of his order. Almost instantly, the door swung inward, and a young student in white training robes bowed before the monk. “Welcome brother. Please come inside.”
After a brief introduction, and only a barely noticeable glance at the half-orc’s distinctive racial features, the student escorted Adso down a short hallway. In rooms to either side, the monk noticed the usual trappings of Irori’s faith. One room was obviously a small library and classroom. Another contained padded leather mats on the floor and exercise equipment. At the end of the hall, a simple white curtain bearing the blue handprint of Irori blocked an archway. The student pulled the curtain aside and motioned for Adso to enter.
The monk found himself in a small circular shrine. The smoke of spicy incense hung in the air, and candles glowed faintly in the haze. As was the custom of Irori’s faithful, the shrine was sparsely furnished and there were no representations of the Master of Masters. A single blue handprint over a low stone altar gave the only indication that this was indeed a temple of Irori.
A man knelt at the altar, a long gray braid down his back, which was turned to the monk. After a moment, he rose and turned to Adso. He was of medium height for a human, and he wore a simple blue robe with an amulet of a blue fist on a chain around his neck. The man’s face was weathered, but strong. His dark eyes were impossible to fathom, but a small smile showed white teeth against his swarthy skin.
“Master,” said the young student, “this is Brother Adso from Windsong Abbey.”
The master reached out and embraced the half-orc in ritual greeting. Adso returned the greeting, and then both men sat down facing each other on the floor before the altar. The student bowed again to both and retreated behind the white curtain.
Adso began, “Master, I have traveled a long path and faced many dangerous foes without fear or hesitation. Yet now I find myself both fearful and unsure of my next step.” He briefly related his original charge to protect the young priest, and told of his further adventures with the Sandpoint Seven.
The older man listened intently to the monk’s tale. Finally, Adso related his last conversation with Luther, and the master’s expression turned serious. “Brother Adso, I trust that you are aware that the Master of Masters claims the domain of Runes as his own, yes?”
Adso frowned and thought for a moment. He was not very studious - it was just one of his many imperfections and failings as a servant of Irori. Of course he knew that! Suddenly many things became clear to the monk. How stupid of him not to think that Irori would be keenly interested in the Runelords and those who sought to emulate them. “I have been a blind, stupid fool,” sighed the half-orc.
The master smiled gently at the monk’s sudden comprehension. “Do not punish yourself my son. Only the Master of Masters is perfect. The rest of us can only hope to strive towards enlightenment and to help each other along the path of wisdom.”
He continued, “I have had a vision from Irori that dark times are upon us. Your friend is right. His duty now lies elsewhere. Your duty is to continue the fight against this darkness with your other companions.”
“This will aid you in your fight,” the master removed the amulet from around his neck and pressed it into Adso’s huge palm. “It will imbue your fists and your body with Irori’s holy power so that you may vanquish His enemies.”
“Thank you, Master,” said the monk, bowing his head to the floor. “I will wear it with reverence.”
The master rose and escorted Adso to the door of the building. The monk bowed low to the him, and they embraced again. “Go with Irori’s blessing, my son,” said the master.
The young student opened the door, and bowed to Adso. The monk returned the bow and with one last grateful look at the master, took his leave.
The door closed behind him, and Adso looked down at the amulet still in his hand. He reverently slipped the silver chain around his neck, feeling the cool weight of the amulet on his chest. Adso began walking back to find his friends. With a new sense of power, and a renewed sense of purpose, the monk knew that he was again on the right path.
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
