| It had been a rough morning. Setanta had wondered when he met Snirf if it were possible for the Gnome to cause any more trouble than he was already. As it turned out, it was possible, and hung-over, angry Snirf was an even bigger handful than sober, pyromaniac Snirf. After a long morning Setanta had finally convinced Snirf to go sleep it off. If they has a cleric with them a heal spell would probably have been the perfect thing. However, Setanta didn’t know any clerics in Windhaven, and Snirf couldn’t control his powers well enough to heal himself. Setanta had all types of potions that would help, but he wasn’t about to burn an antidote potion to cure a hangover- the gnome would have to fix his own hangover, and only time did that. A fine spot I’m in Setanta thought, more orcs are moving now than any other time in the past century, and I’m here making sure a deep gnome doesn’t accidentally torch a town.
And then there was the question of the monk. He had said his name was Broken Blade. Setanta had shown him the orc gear in the cart, and he had seemed interested. Snirf had broken up that meeting rather abruptly, but Setanta guessed that there was an unspoken agreement between them- Broken Blade, Snirf, Bloodstalker and Setanta were all in the same town somewhat randomly, and Setanta wasn’t exactly sure what to think of it. First Bloodstalker reappears, walking right out of my memories. And now this monk- I don’t like it, all of these things from the past.
Meeting Broken Blade had made Setanta think of the time he had spent living and studying with the monks. There had been a while, a period of time after the fall of Zhentil Keep, that he had thought that the life of a monk was for him. And, for a few years, it had been wonderful. The life was severe for most people, but for a freed slave the thought of having a chest and a bed and clothes of ones own was overwhelming. The physical training wasn’t too hard, and it was different from what he had learned as a fighter. He meditated, learned how to read and to cook a little, and for a while he was very happy.
But it didn’t last. Setanta at first had been overwhelmed by the lifestyle of the monks- he had always been good at fighting, and here these monks could show him a whole different way to fight! Plus they fed him and treated him like a person, instead of a slave of mixed heritage. The lifestyle, however, became routine, and Setanta realized that he didn’t agree with the fundamental teachings of the monks. For them life was ordered and unified, diamond bodies and minds, lawful souls, rationality and control… and Setanta just didn’t agree. Life was a struggle; at least it always had been for him. He was always usually tougher and stronger, but sometimes had been luckier than his opponents, plain and simple. One time Setanta had seen two men in a pit fight, and for one it was his first time. He was not a fighter and was scared. He got in the ring and soiled himself, feces covering the ground. He was humiliated and the crowd laughed at him. But not 15 seconds later, in the fight, his opponent, a skilled veteran, slipped in the muck and fell, and died because of it. Setanta had often thought of this when listening to the monks. How can you say that life is ordered? I am the bastard son of two Zhent slaves, bred in the pits at the behest of my master- where is the order, the divinity in that? Setanta didn’t understand, and left the company of the monks after a short while.
Thinking about all this made Setanta feel suddenly very humble and alone. Looking around, he slipped off of the street and headed to the back of the Inn. Alone for the moment, he reached under his shirt and pulled out a silver pendant with the picture of a beautiful woman with fiery hair. He thought of his mother, an enslaved priestess of Sune, and said a prayer with his mother’s holy symbol in hand. He didn’t usually speak to the gods, but by now speaking to Sune was second nature.
After the quick prayer Setanta roused himself from his reverie. Too much thinking about old ghosts will only get their attention What to do about his hung-over friend, and the new Monk? And what about BS? And the orcs? There were too many questions that needed answering, so Setanta set out to find out exactly what was going on.
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Custodia legis |