Kalahalak

Kalahak Inn

Isaac was well aware of the legends and rumors that surrounded the well that Kalahak inn was built around. Many an adventurer has been lost to the horrors within its depths.

Isaac took another swig of his ale and sat pensively. He knew that deep within the cavity of this well lay undiscovered locations, locations the denizens of darkness would call home. Every fiber of his being urged him to cleanse this place…yet something did not seem right.

He remembered his training to become a Paladin, one moment in particular was brought to his attention this evening.

It was a foggy night at the temple when suddenly the bells rang and he rushed into the great hall to find a fellow student lying on the floor, blood spewing out onto the cobblestone surrounded by other cadets and teachers. The youngest where rushed back to their rooms in a panic while the wounded student, now dead, was brought to the infarmary.

Isaac had asked his teacher the next day during the morning meal what had happened to him. His master, reluctant as first, shared the gruesome tale. The Monastery was secluded, practically hidden even, but the location where it was built was home to other neighbors, some of which where troubling. One such group in particular was a savage group of hobgoblins.

Apparently the student, in an effort to elevate his position and prove to his masters that he was ready, had taken up a sword and left the monastery in search of the monsters. Barely making it back alive, the student finally passed on in the dead of night.

Isaac’s teacher then stirred his food, uninterested, and looked towards his pupils around the table.

“Lads, a fire burns within you all, that much is clear, but charging into an enemy without knowledge of what you face is suicide. That is what separates our order from others of our kind. We must never let our passions cloud our judgement.”

His teacher looked at each and every one of them, his gaze lingering on Isaac much longer than the rest.

“You must let your teachings guide you. History is written by the victors, and victors are survivors.”

Isaac stared at his drink. There where still jobs that needed to be completed here in Waterdeep, but he would venture into this unknown, when the time was right.

He reached behind the bar and refilled his mug, his thoughts drifting to these new adventurers that had arrived. They reminded him of his company, before he had taken up the mantle of Paladin.

His thoughts drifted to darker notions now as he recalled what day of the month it was. It was nearly time, his preparations would have to be made shortly.

He finished his drink and left the silver on the counter, making his way to his room.

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