The room was not luxurious by any amount of imagination but it was dry and warm which was all that Brother Garf really required. Unable to sleep he lay on the simple bed the monastery provided. That and a small wooden chair and desk were all the furniture that were allowed in his cell. The book of Kord lay resting on the desk where he had left it earlier in the evening but even that could not distract him from his current train of thought. He had spent the last 2 days purely on bread and water. Not by his own choice of course, brother Garf had few vices but the simple life of a monk was not an easy one and the fact that he was allowed to eat and drink good food were the only conciliation for the other luxuries he was denied by the rules of his order. The injustice of it still bothered Garf, after all he had been correct. His tutor at the monastery Brother Octavius was an old cleric, fat in the belly and the intellect he had been blessed with earlier in life had been stolen from him by the onset of his twilight years. The small class of trainee Clerics had been discussing a matter of a passage in the book of Kord. Brother Octavius had been explaining to the group his interpretation of the passage but had clearly become confused. Garf had corrected him as gently as possible but the old monk had taken it as a personal insult and sent Garf to reflect on his thoughts in his cell for two days. As he lay on his bed his stomach ached and the thought of another day without a good meal lingered in the front of his mind stopping him from sleeping. His thoughts soon turned to the food that he could be eating now. The monastery, although only possessing simple cooking equipment, had the most wonderful selection of food and wine readily available to him under normal circumstances. It was then that the plan hatched in his mind, if he could sneak his way to the Kitchen then only Kord would ever know he had disobeyed brother Octavious's order and he was a warrior God who would smile upon anyone brave enough to mount such a daring raid.
Before he knew it he was on his feet making his way to the door. As he slowly opened the door the iron hinges gently creaked but in the silence of the night the noise was almost deafening to Garf. He moved out of his door and down the corridor, the snores of his fellow Clerics resonating down the narrow stone hallway. As he reached the end of the corridor he gently opened the wooden door that led to the cloister. He lingered in the doorway allowing his vision to adjust to the darkness until he was certain it was deserted. Then, as silently as he could, he made his way across the courtyard to the kitchens. As he walked through the archway into the kitchen the smell of rich food and wine bombarded his senses and he jumped as he noticed Brother Octavius sat at a table in the middle of the room. As his mind raced for a plausible excuse he noticed the monk had not reacted to his presence and as he gently moved closer he saw the old man had fallen asleep halfway through a meal he had clearly helped himself to earlier in the evening. A bottle of wine also rested on the table and Garf quickly realised this was the perfect opportunity. There was no way that the old monk would remember how much he had eaten or drank before he had fallen asleep so Garf helped himself to the remainder of the meal in full knowledge the food would never be missed.
Once his belly was full Garf started back toward his cell with the confidence that Kord was clearly on his side tonight. As he strode confidently into the cloister he froze in his tracks. Six silhouettes moved through the darkness at the other end of the courtyard and through a small wooden door. Garf knew this door well it was the subject of a great deal of rumour. The stories of what laid beyond the door were wild and varied but what was for sure was that Bishop Kempo had ruled the area strictly out of bounds. It was unusual for such an area to be declared within a monastery but as it was Bishop Kempo, the hero of the siege of Waterdeep, who had made the ruling it was beyond question. All that anyone knew was that the work being conducted beyond those doors was being kept secret and was vital to protection of the city. Garf thanked Kord he had not been caught and made his way back toward his cell but as he reached the wooden door he noticed a thin shaft of light emanating from the door across the courtyard. He stood uncertain of what to make of it until his curiosity finally got the better of him and he sneaked across to the partially open door. As he looked into the crack he could see a staircase leading downward lit by torchlight. He sat there a moment his mind racing at what could be at the end of the staircase when suddenly he heard a strange noise. As he strained to listen he could just make out the sound of chanting. Why not, he thought, he could just take a quick peek after all fortune was smiling on him tonight. Cautiously he opened the door and made his way down the staircase.
The staircase wound its way downwards, the noise of chanting growing with every step. The corridor finally opened up into a large cavern. Garf found himself looking down into the room. It was clear that if he continued on the path he would clearly be seen by the occupants of the room below. He couldn't quite see what was happening due to a large pillar that was one of a number supporting the substantial ceiling of the cavern. Garf pulled himself to the other side of the column onto a narrow decorative ledge that gave him clear view of the room below. Five monks stood equally spaced around the outside of the room with the final person stood in the middle. The outside of the room was decorated in symbols that he did not recognise but he knew that they were clearly not symbols of Kord. The person in the middle of the room was preparing something and seemed to be leading the proceedings. He was stood in front of a large circular symbol and as he spoke a thick black smoke began to emanate from it. It was as dark as night and moved in an unnatural way, unlike smoke it moved more like a creature writhing back and forth moving upwards. It was far from clear what was going on here but Garf was sure the Bishop should know of it. Garf was about to move back out to the staircase when he saw a shape starting to form in the smoke and he strained to make it out. Without thinking he edged forward knocking a small stone gargoyle from the ledge he was standing on. The figure fell through the air and crashed onto the floor 20 feet below. The monks spun around and with the break in their concentration the black smoke violently retreated back into the symbol on the floor. It was then that Garf saw something that shocked him to the core, the face of the central figure was Bishop Kempo and his cold eyes stared directly up to where he was hiding. Garf bolted instinctively running back up the stairwell, across the courtyard and back into his cell. He lay in bed his eyes closed hoping anyone who came searching would believe he was asleep. He was unsure how good a look Bishop Kempo had got at him and he prayed to Kord that it wasn't enough to recognise him.
Garf did not sleep that night. He waited until all of his fellow clerics were awake and then tried to move with the crowd toward the great hall for breakfast. The meal was uneventful and Garf started to allow himself to believe he had gotten away with the previous nights events. He started to make his way out of the great hall when a chubby arm blocked his path. "I don't know why" rasped Brother Octavius "but Bishop Kempo has requested you join him in his office this morning". Garf felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, well if I have to face punishment then at least I shall know my fate he thought.
Although he knew the way to Bishop Kempos offices he had never been required to enter them before. He nervously poked his head around the door into the lavishly decorated room. Unlike the other rooms in the monastery this one was clearly more used to entertaining the ruling class of the city than the usual simple living of a man of the church. Bishop Kempo was sat on a Sofa with a pot of Tea in front of him. "Ah brother Garf, please come, sit down, can I offer you some tea?". Garf stood speechless for a few seconds "Ah... yes thankyou" he sat down next to the Bishop. "I wanted to speak to you about the events of last night. I'm sure you know of the rules regarding restricted areas in the monastery". "I do" replied Garf "and I cannot apologise enough for my error of .. " "well never mind that" replied the bishop what is done is done. What is important now is that we keep the details of that evening secret". "I'm sure you understand that as a Bishop of this city it is often my burden to undertake secret work in order to protect it". "There are people who would seek to use your new found knowledge against us". "Well I didn't really...." The bishop raised his hand which Garf clearly took as a signal to stop talking. "Now tell me Garf have you spoke of this to anyone else". "No" Garf replied. The Bishop eased in his seat "then the damage is minimal". The Bishop sat for a while looking at Garf "It occurs to me that I have a job suitable for an adventurous Cleric such as yourself. The church of Weddenvale is in need of some guidance and I think you would be ideally suited. Garf was shocked "Well that would be a great honour for a Cleric as young as myself ..... I would of course accept". "Well that settles it you should make arrangements to leave as soon as possible, my staff will assist you". The bishop lifted his arm toward the door and Garf took the hint and stood up. "Oh Garf..... obviously you must not talk to anyone of our discussion today". Garf nodded and quickly made his way out of the room.
Kempo watched the young Cleric walk out of the door and closed it behind him. As he did the forced smile dropped instantly from his face and was replaced with a cold deliberate look. He made his way to his desk and took out a new piece of parchment and penned a letter
Brother Jintell
Church of St Arthur
Weddenvale
Alesia
Brother,
I am once again in need of your unique skills. A young Cleric at the monastery has become privy to our activities. Under the circumstances sending him to you would seem the safest option.
Brother Garf will arrive within the week. I trust you will provide him with a suitable welcome.
Kempo
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