You may be asking yourself, “what is a cleric of Athar doing in this outcast village of the damned?” Well it is a fairly brief story and concerns our destination of Black Oak, so I’d best be telling you now. First, I’m not rightly a cleric, not according to the church anyhow. I call myself a Friar, though I’ve never taken vows to any order. I was still an acolyte when the edict came down forbidding magic and exiling any non-humans from the’ dwell.
“It’s not right Father Norvil! As the holy scriptures say,_ “serve an unjust king and you serve injustice.”_ Father Norvil was my spiritual advisor and was doing his best to cool my temper. I had exclaimed, rather loudly, that our good Bishop was a damn fool who knew as much about justice as an ogre’s big toe. Farther Norvil proposed to send me to a rather remote village and serve in the local church. The very village we are now planning to visit. I turned him down and fled the capital with a band of other “undesirables” So I would appreciate it if you don’t mention the words Friar, or Priest, or Cleric while we are in town. They are as dangerous to me as witch or wizard to you fellows.