Bastien Pinefall I: The Priory

My name is Bastien Pinefall. 
I'm a cleric, or at least I was.

Now? Now I'm not so sure. 

Oh, it's nothing like that. I still have Faith, I haven't strayed from the path. It's just that the path isn't leading in the same direction. Isn't leading where it's supposed to. Isn't leading the way it was until only a week ago. 

So now I search, I pursue, I hunt. 

The Abbott said that writing things down would help, but that was never my strong point. I guess I should start at the beginning.

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The priory was a wonderful place to live - thriving and prosperous - thanks in part to our devotion to the Dweller on the Horizon and location between a number of large towns, both of which served to encourage trade. The fields were abundant with carefully managed flora and fauna and the weekly market ensured a healthy turnover of merchants, their exotic wares, and coin.

Given this fortunate state of affairs we were not without competitors resentful of our success or bandits who thought an ecclesiastical order would be a soft target. This, of course, is were I come in. 

Bored and uninterested by the agricultural and fiscal lessons the senior brothers chose to focus my attentions on a third pillar of instruction, and so I learned how to protect the priory from the envious. Training from an early age enhanced my martial prowess to the point where I was trusted with one of our most prestigious roles: caravan guard to the merchants who traded with us. During this time I honed my skills further, learned how to survive on the road, and maintained the network of roadside shrines dedicated to Fharlanghn - you will see many a sensible traveller offering a small sacrifice to a stone carved with a Sun ascending over the horizon to guarantee a safe journey.

It was whilst resting back at the priory after one particularly long engagement that it happened...