The sun rose slowly in the sky, its first rays shining upon mokato in his small room that he rented that reminded him of the meditation cells of his home monastary, the light illuminating his features and rousing him from his morning meditation on his faults and ways to better himself. He scratched his beard and began to stretch his limbs, going through his exercise to strengthen his mind and preserve the health of his body. After finishing up with his stretches he scratched the rough beard he had growing and offered his customary prayer to his patron goddess, Dol Arrah and penned a quick letter to his master at the Monastary of Pastoral Solitude in Khorvaire.
Slipping into his robe that looked more like tattered rags he stepped out of his small rented room and decided to head off to the rusty nail to observe some of the citizens of this city. Reaching the nail he sat down at a table and ordered a water, looking around he was content to marvel at the people of the city that came in, so different than those he was used to at his home.