Prologue

For Brother Garf it had all seemed like a wondrous idea. In charge of his first church! But as the ship came to a standstill at the dockside, and the frigid wind blew through his clerical vestments, his enthusiasm was dampened slightly. The voyage to Alesia had taken several weeks from the warmer climes Garf was used to, and the icy conditions snapped at his extremities as he disembarked with his belongings onto the dockside. Scanning up and down the dock, he noted the two taverns - the larger, salubrious Tam O Shanter, and the less than respectable looking tavern, The Old Sea Dog. Hefting his pack over his shoulder, he trudged across the windswept dock in to the Tam O Shanter, in search of a room and a ride into Weddenvale.

As the moon began to set, and the sun began to rise, Lafayette carefully picked his way between the merchant tent pegs. He had narrowly avoided capture, and despite the loss of his favourite dog, was relatively unscathed after his ordeal. Perhaps killing the halfling had not been the brightest idea, but the idiot had stolen from him. Tripping over another tent peg, he cursed as he stubbed his toe painfully into the ground. Grumbling under his breath he selected a suitable tent and made his way across to it. Lafayette stepped gingerly inside the tent only to trip over its sleeping occupant. Awaking with a start, the man cried sharply for help before Lafayette could clamp a hand down over his mouth.

Rising early the next morning, and suitably rested after a good nights sleep, Garf slung his pack once more over his shoulder and set off towards the merchant tents in search of a ride into town. He had walked for around five minutes when a small contingent of the town guard hurtled past him on their way to the merchant area. Intrigued, Garf followed as quickly as he could without drawing attention to himself, and arriving at the scene saw a tall human engaged in a struggle with three of the guards and a scantily clad, yet rather portly, merchant. Seizing upon the opportunity to serve, Garf muttered a whispered prayer, dropped his belongings on the ground and proceeded towards the fracas with all haste.

Lafayette pulled a dagger from his boot as a town guard lunged at him with his sword. Stepping deftly aside and raising the weapon, he slipped it firmly between the ribs of his attacker, killing him instantly. The other two guards saw their comrade fall and bellowed battle cries as they set about Lafayette, hacking and slicing with their swords. Lafayette stumbled backwards, then widened his eyes as a cleric came wading into the fight with an enthusiastic expression yelling, "Can't we all be friends!". Lafayette had just a few moments to ponder the absurdity of the scene when the cleric muttered a few words, waved a hand or two, and encased the entire area in thick fog.

As the dust settled around the scene, Lafayette found himself in manacles. One of the guards had got in a lucky hit and his head hurt, his vision blurred, and he felt nauseous as he was roughly dragged to his feet. In a haze, he barely noticed the cleric, whose name he had gathered was Garf, was unharmed but also in manacles.