The Usher leans in close and whispers: Do not be alarmed... this character is more than a mere plot device, he is the one prophesied to bring balance to the Forc.. erm... no, that's someone else, nevermind. I'm not exactly sure how this character fits in, we'll have to watch this one together...

Everything was in its place, tidied and ready for the next occupant to move into the small cubicle that had been his own. The towering monk ducked his head as he exited and adjusted the worn-out pack upon his broad and powerful shoulders. He closed the heavy wooden door on its well-oiled hinges with barely a sound. Then, turning down the long stone corridor of the small monastery, he quickly left the life of a solitary monk behind. His God had given him a new direction, with which came new expectations and new promised blessings. As he walked through the dense grove that skirted the austere, hill-top building, he turned to look one last time. There, peeking from around the corner was Daws, tardy from the noontime meal waving at him.

At the bottom of the hill, the grove extended for a half-day's walk in almost every direction, the exception being where the river came through. That is where the monk headed, hoping to catch a ride with one of the rafts that lazily floated through this gentle portion of waterway on its way toward the sea. As he approached he blessed his fortune at seeing a raft within shouting distance. The raft appeared to be putting to shore! What luck! The monk approached the raft and it's sole occupant, a grizzled river-man who had probably spent more time in the last seven or eight decades on the water than on dry land.

"Eh!? A bandit? Look, I ain't got nothin' you'd want nohow!" the oldster said to the monk, pointing his pushstick at him like a knight's lance. "Jest move along will ya? I don't want to hurt anybody today, but I will! I ain't been on the river all these years defense-less! Go on! Git on yer way!"

In reply to The Usher (msg # 1):

"Sir, I assure you I am no bandit.  What's more, grant me the boon of a ride on your raft and I will stand between you and any who would look to do you unfairly.  I am nothing more and nothing less than a humble monk.  Please do not judge me by my appearance.  Much like yourself, time and experiences out of my direct control have shaped me into what you see but I reserve that which you cannot see but only know as the me I have chosen and formed.  Speak to me for a while and you will find this to be true."

Zeeny could feel Zoran somewhere in the back of his mind driving his actions in a way not unlike how he himself drove Deedle.  Zeeny knew he would have little chance of the ride on the raft and more, the discussion Zoran wished him to have with the raft-man if he shared the entire truth and so, he closed Deedle's eyes laying his staff on the ground in front of him gently and showing his empty hands face-up to the boatman with bowed head though he did listen carefully as his training had carefully imprinted on him.

The oldster stared at Zeeny-Deedle with a funny look on his face. He'd gotten a little lost with the stranger's funny speaking. He caught something about a monk and a reserve and talking about truth. He shook his head. His hearing wasn't what it once was, that's for sure and he didn't know if he was being preached at or reprimanded, but it didn't matter. The oldster was familiar with the monastery not far away. He thought them an odd lot, always doing things the hard way if there ever was one. This monk, or so he claimed to be, seemed a bit different. He was huge for starters, but there was something more...

"Erm... well give me'a hand here a bit. I gotta shift me cargo some or we ain't never gonna make it through them rapids whats downriver. Durn channels keep a'changin', 'specially this time o'year!"  The old man tossed Zeeny-Deedle a line. "Mind yerself, I ain't defenseless just in case you ain't what you said you was..." He considered the monk once more with a cocked eye which seemed to scrutinize every detail.

Once the load was shifted and re-secured, the oldster pushed off with his long stick and got back out into the channel.  There was a crude rudder on the back that he manned expertly. The water was lazy and gentle. There were all sorts of river birds and other critters to be seen and Zeeny-Deedle found himself fascinated by it all.

As the day wore on, noontime passed and the sunset blazed across the top of the forest, the oldster seemed to perk up a little. He began to look about him as if trying to spot something that was staying just out sight. Finally, he leaned forward to the sitting monk and muttered lowly, "Don't give us away young'un, but we's bein' watched... There's a narrow bend in the channel up ahead and the current speeds up. That'd make a fine choke point, er'ambush spot. Be ready, if we stop, or if'n they be stoppin' us, we're gonners. We gotta keep'er headed downriver and not get boarded or pulled ta'shore!" The oldster then pretended to have sunken back into his lazy way at the rudder as the bend in the river came slowly closer.

OOC: You may make a Wisdom check, (1d20 - roll under Wis to succeed).
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:21, Mon 23 Dec 2013.