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"Oh the ways of a monk can be counted singularly--it's depressing. It's up before dawn, hours of prayer, hours of copying some obscure sacred text by dim candlelight, cold baths, bad food. I looked at my misguided vocation and said to hell with this. So off I went to the nearest big city and threw myself at wine, women and all the debauchery I could find. Unfortunately, people expect you to pay for most of this, especially gambling debts. Which is why I found myself in Phyrra with a sword in my hand and facing some huge beast of a man with an axe. Seems I'm rather good at this dueling business though and maybe someday, if I live long enough, I'll be able to leave this city without fear of being hunted down by an angry father, husband, gambler, inn-keeper, or bounty hunter."