The Pious followers of Dauros, God of Law, Monks are not tempted by the allure of Elven vices. They dedicate themselves to refining body and soul. They are widely acknowledged as some of Ardania's fiercest fighters, but they accomplish this by using only their bare hands and lightning-fast reflexes. Magic is also part of the Monk's arsenal. Their vow of silence lends them an unassuming image in Ardania's society.

The Temples to Dauros are elaborate sanctuaries where the Monks can dedicate themselves to their inwardly focused pursuits. Each temple can support up to four Monks and its presence makes any marketplace more profitable. The Temple to Dauros can also be used to cast several spells, mostly defensive in nature.

The Monks lead fairly secretive lives, but stories such as this one reveal the nature of this dedicated sect.

 

The Monk's Tale

The two Rogues, Byrus and Randyr, halted their trek to the frontier ruins for a brief rest in a shaded glen. Randyr, the oldest of the pair, asked, "Is he still back there?"

Byrus looked back over his shoulder, towards the path that had brought them here. At the limit of his visibility, a robed figure dropped into a relaxed sitting position. "Yup. He's still there. Close enough to be annoying and too far away to effectively chase off. Are you sure he's a Monk?"

"I'll put ten gold on it. I recognize the robes," replied Randyr without obvious concern. He rarely seemed to get excited about anything. Some attributed this to being uncommonly cool-headed. Others just thought he was numb to the core.

"I've seen groups of them together in town, coming from the Temple of Dauros," continued Randyr. "They travel in a tight little group, going about their business without seeming to notice much of what's going on around them."

Byrus plopped himself down on a mossy rock to relax. He looked back at the seated Monk, who now seemed to be snacking on some small tidbit he'd removed from his pouch. "So why doesn't he just come up and say "hi"? Why follow us around? What's he up to?"

"They never say anything to anyone, as far as I can tell. It's some kind of weird pact with their god, or something. But I don't know why he doesn't…"

"Hey. He left," interrupted Byrus, glancing back towards the Monk's previous position. "He was just there a second ago."

"Hmm. Maybe he got tired of watching you stop, every fifteen minutes, to smear that bunion with sheep fat?" replied Randyr, in his typical deadpan.

Byrus' eyes narrowed. "Sure, and let this get infected? You wouldn't like me much if it got infected."

"I don't like you much now…" quipped Randyr. "Go grab your pack. We need to get going if we're going to make the ruins by sunset."

Byrus gathered up his gear and got back to his feet. Then he froze. "Hey! What was that?"

"Probably that freaky Monk, just responding to nature's call."

"No…it was more like…"

Suddenly a scream erupted from a stand of shrubs by the glen's edge. Like a furred projectile, a werewolf shot into the clearing. It paused to take in the two shocked Rogues. The creature waited only long enough to decide which of the startled adventurers would be its first target. As its eyes locked with Byrus', it sprang at the fear-frozen Rogue, covering the distance between them in a single leap.

Byrus saw the huge jaws, mere inches from his face. Then he heard the sound of cracking bone. "Wow – I never thought the end would be so painless," he thought.

Painless for Byrus…not the werewolf.

Just as the creature leaped for Byrus, the Monk exploded from hiding. As if performing a levitating ballet, the Monk flew threw the air, foot-first. His heel slammed into the werewolf's jaw, breaking it and knocking the monstrosity off its Rogue-bound path. The Monk cleanly landed on two feet, ready to strike his next blow. Before the werewolf could get back on its feet, the Monk pelted him with a blizzard of precise, swinging fists and feet.

In seconds it was over. The werewolf lay in a bloodied heap before the mysterious Monk.

Byrus slowly found his voice. "You,….um. Ah…… Well, thanks?"

The Monk bowed deeply, then did a twelve foot high back flip, disappearing in the bush. Two minutes later, he appeared back in his old spot – close enough to be comforting, but not too far that he couldn't chase any danger away. He removed the morsel he'd been eating from his back, and continued to nibble away at it.

The two Rogues stood quietly for a few moments. Then Randyr, still staring straight ahead with a goggle-eyed expression, broke the silence. "You're gonna need to tell me again how much treasure is in these ruins. And it better be a bigger number than last time you told me…"