[i] 	No one knows exactly what happened, or where he came from. All any of us can remember is praying in the courtyard as per usual when the sun was at it’s height, and as we prayed to the Whispering One the last words of our mantra, there was a great flash. As our eyes readjusted after being blinded we saw him, standing twice our size in height and width in the middle of the great courtyard. He stood with a great axe aflame in his hand, two horns erect out of his massive skull, and a massive tome strapped securely to his back in a vestment covered in magical wards and fit to protect a knights own heart. 

He spoke an unknown language in an alien accent, but despite the thunderous tongue, his words were calming and shone with enlightenment. As brother Wilxham tried to speak back to the great figure, his language changed to that of our own. Soon all the monks and I sat down with the beastly bull man, and we had a long conversation. He spoke of chaos and destruction, but also of our prayers being answered. We could not find out where he hailed from, but he assured us it was a glorious place, where even our ideals were known; Such honeyed words proved true as he managed to recite to us the most complicated and esoteric scripts and mantras of the Whispering God of Monodominum as well as those of other religions even we have never heard of. He even granted me to take a look at his mighty tome, of which he called ‘The Codex’. 

After a quick flip through part of his strange book of knowledge, I grew enlightened, and I knew why he was here. Praise be the Whispered God. Praise be his silent answers. Praise be, for Freg has come. [/i]

[center] [i] - Diary of the Abbot of the Monastery of Roland, and of the true Monodominics. [/i] [/center]

[center] [b] The Mountains of Roland [/b] [/center]

The slightly chilly mountain air of the ancient cliffs, peaks and valleys that made up the mystic mountains of Roland smelt sweet with violets and pine, as opposed to the usual deciduous oak and maple that dominated the Charlin landscape. The peaks towered far above the usual flat lands of Charlin to the point that the tallest spire even seemed to mingle with low clouds. 

The serene landscape was populated by fauna such as deer, rabbits, and songbirds, at such a thickness it was impossible to go through them without seeing hundreds of rabbits and deer while being tantalized by the melodious harmonies of the avian hosts. Through such songs one might be able to make out the soft whisper of the breeze channeling through various cracks and crevices in the rocky sides of the cliffs and rock walls that populate the landscape as much as the rabbits. 

Though the hidden monastery of Roland served well as the house of prayers for the true Monodominic monks, the surrounded scenes of the mountains proved to be just as well. One such Monodominic monk found this to be quite accurate as he sat on his knees in prayer under a tree of pine. The man’s traditional knee long black robes clung tightly to his body and were tied at his waist with a bright red sash. A thick dark hood covered his head, black pants covered the rest of his legs where his robes did not and his feet were bare and calloused; this was the image of the monks of old, the followers of Monodominum and the ancient order of the monastery of Roland.  

The man prayed softly and only wisps of his whispered words could be heard against the songs of the birds. The sun warmed his body was soft beams of light that broke through scattered clouds and the boughs of the tree he knelt at. Where the sun did not kiss, a slight chill dominated, causing a wave of chill after a wave of warmth as the clouds slowly floated in the sky. The delicate scene was complete as the soft grass would glow in the sun, then dim when the cloud stopped the beams with it’s thick body, allowing the mountain below to undulate between bright and dim.

Behind the monk, and through the trees appeared a group of six that looked completely out of place in this serene atmosphere. They wore the heavy clanking armor of knights, they carried long swords at their hips, and waving capes of war on their backs, centered with the sun of the Paladins of Krax. Four of the knights matched completely, being the usual noble Paladins of the order, while the other two were dressed different. One dressed slightly less impressively than the others, as he was not from Charlin, but a recruit from the Paladins of Krax’s Foreign Legion. The other dressed even more remarkably than the others, with a brighter cape, and Karkarthian blade, because he was not a mere knight, but a Master of the Paladins, he was Sir Edvin. 

“Monk!” The young master called out to the peaceful Monodominic, shattering the scene’s quiet visage. 

The  lone monk lifted his head from his thoughts and stood up, his knees popping from his long and stiff meditation he was immersed in. As the monk turned to face his guests Sir Edvin put his hand around the grip of his blade, to make sure they both were on the same foot.

“Bring me to the monastery,” The Paladin asked plainly.

“No,” was all he received in a soft tone, one octave louder than a whisper.

“You will bring me at once.”

“I would sooner allow my head to part from my shoulders before I dishonor my pledge of secrecy to the Abbot and monastery.”

The monk knelt as if he was to continue his prayers, but instead he faced the group, as if challenging the Paladin to do so.
“Very well,” Sir Edvin spat as he tightened his grip on his sword. 

In the distance a thunderous crashing pounded the ground in a rhythm of footsteps, sending vibrations up the knights feet and into their bodies.

‘What in the hell is that?” The Foreigner cursed.

“Freg,” The monk whispered.

The Paladins looked confused as the sound grew louder.

“Freg?” 

With a sudden blast of wind the trees shook as a mighty figure leaped out from the forest, snapping bough and all that was in the way of the powerful thrust. The beastly half bull man landed between the groups with a ground shaking crash, nearly toppling the standing. 

The minotaur faced the Paladins with a flaming axe in hand.

“Begone,” Freg’s crashing voice rumbled.

The Foreigner yelped in surprise as he turned from Freg and began to run away in a hasty retreat.

“Damn honorless foreigners,” One of the shocked Paladins managed to grumble before Freg spoke again.

“Leave.”

“Bring us to the monastery,” Sir Edvin reiterated as he asserted himself with an upright pose and brave steps towards the mighty Minotaur.

“Only the eyes of a true Monodominic can witness the monastery,” The monk offered.

‘Do you offer insult to my honor?” Edvin hissed between his teeth, “In the name of Justinian, bring me to your heathen den.”

The monk turned to Freg, and the great Minotaur looked at the man with gentle eyes of wisdom.

“We will offer you this, sir Paladin,” Freg started, “The monastery is cloaked in magic and mysticism, one of which only the Monodominics can see through, I will allow you to be an exception however.”

The monk’s face showed keen surprise at Fregs words and he went to rebuttal, but before he could, Freg addressed him, “Run to the monastery, Wilxhem, and tell the Abbot to blow on the Horn of Roland to celebrate the Paladins arrival.”

“At once,” The monk murmured as he rushed off.  

After a long disorganized and disorienting trek through the mountains the Paladins grew completely lost as they followed their mysterious guide through the zig zagging landscape. Eventually the group found themselves looking at a tall row of pine that were grown so close to each other that the Paladins could not see past it. As they approached the wall of branches and needles, Freg motioned for them to walk through, and so they did.

As they pushed through the dark pines and into the bright golden green valley their eyes watered from the light of the clear sky and a tantalizing sound bellowed in the distance, welcoming them in. The monastery stood before them, it’s brilliant marble columns and white buildings shone brightly in the warm sunlights caress. The buildings were expertly designed and cut into a large horseshoe shape that hugged around a glamorous large courtyard filled with brightly colored flowers, marble tile, and a large decorated fountain that gushed sparkling water. Grapevines decorated the surrounding columns with green vines and dark purple grapes as myriads of dark robed monks walked the courts, talked softly to each other, and prayed silently. 

The sound of the monks as well as surrounding farms that supported the glorious settlement of the old Roland Monastery were equally drowned out by the blasting sound of the bellowing horn in the distance. The horn’s sound was comforting, like a mother welcoming a lost son home and as the awestruck paladins walked slowly towards the marvelous courtyard, their armor’s clasps began to loosen and weaken, and as they advanced the suits of plates and chain began to slip off their very bodies, revealing woolen tunics and gambit. The Paladins paid no mind to their lost weapons and armor as their minds were at peace, while the horn blew so greatly. 

Sir Edvin stepped a stones throw distance from the fountain and he fell to his knees as his eyes watered and his ears rejoiced at the sound of the pounding horn. 

“Welcome home, my son,” A gentle fatherly voice warmed the air as the Abbot of the true Monodominics appeared before Edvin.

The Abbot was old and lanky, and his white beard reaching his belly that was dressed in the same robes as the other monks, with the only thing setting him apart being his bright blue sash.

Edvin remained speechless as the horn blast started to fade out, the sight of the magical Monastery overloading his senses still.

The great Freg appeared behind Edvin, along with the other mesmerized Paladins.

“As only true Monodominics may look upon the Monastery of Roland, such you will become.”

The Abbot nodded at Fregs words and called out hoarsely to an idle monk, “Fetch these men new robes.”

The monk rushed over and started to escort the silent Paladins away with hasty but gentle hands.

“More Paladin recruits, not exactly how I wish for them to come, but I thank you anyway, Freg,” The Abbot croaked.

“The horn inspires all with the virtue and valor of the ancients, it is only sensible that the Charlinites hear it’s song once more, but only so much, I would prefer they come out of honor and respect, rather than to be converted after showing us the tip of a blade,” The Abbot continued before drifting off into thought.

“We both know the agenda of the Monodominics or that of the Paladins is not why you are here, so I question why you remain in these mountains?” The Abbot questioned.

“Time will tell, Abbot,” Freg answered, “Collect the armor and swords that they dropped and save them, in time you will know why, but until then, do as you do, and take care of Master Paladin Edvin as your own.” 

“As you wish Freg Gerntef, but in time they will come to their senses, and since he is a Master Paladin I doubt he will stay.”

“He will stay, he is young, and he has more Monodominic blood in him than he knows.”

“As you wish.”

“But with those final words I must leave you Abbot,” Freg boomed, his wizened eyes overlooking the grand Monastery he spent the last few years protecting, “Things are in motion, Abbot, things that require my attention. The monastery will be safe, it’s old magics will keep it hidden from all but the most faithful, and the honor of the Charlinites will keep those who may break through the magic at bay.”

“Where will you go?”

	“Where I am needed, Abbot, Where I am needed.” 


[hider=things to know]

[h1]FREG[/h1]

is on the move!
[/hider]