Wisteria decided to accompany Eamon and Sir Thibault to the Priory, to learn more of the ways of monks.  On the surface, they seemed very similar to the priest-hood and yet, there were some things she just couldn't fathom.  Why, for example, did Eamon let those red-clothed monks talk to him in such a fashion, and when they were clearly doing something he disapproved of, and seemed to have no respect for his whatsoever?  In Myrkul's eyes, you must of course reduce all of your enemies to dust, for their own good as much as anything.  It was actually a kindness: they got to sit in Myrkul's lofty halls and chat about the errors of their ways. Wisteria was personally quite keen to see if the colour of those monks' blood matched their clothing, but she understood that it might have to wait until another time. Arriving at Moravin Priory, Wisteria was surprised and delighted to see Prior Mordrin, the very monk who had saved her life but two years back!  He was as kindly and hospitable as ever, with excellent wine, that looked pleasingly like blood, and led Wisteria to thinking about those pesky red-cloaks again, tapping her armour-claw ringed finger on the side of the glass in anticipation.  Mordrin had no kind words to say about them in any case, and was suspicious that they might be after some artifact or other from the Nar temple.  Even worse sacrilege!  And apparently they worshipped some sort of depraved sex goddess and an old, diseased, hag.  What a bunch of deluded clowns, Wisteria thought. Now Mordrin was talking about a white dragon that had been seen hunting along the mining trail close to D'Ashe Manor. One of a number of dragons apparantly, here in Damara to take revenge for the slaughter of their goddess, Tiamat.  Not much of a goddess if she could get killed so easily, Wisteria thought; but then, as the Lord of Death, Myrkul is truly the most powerful.  And at least that over-grown bulls-head Orcus had been dispatched in the process.  Not a bad situation on the face of it, but then, dragons on the rampage would soon upset the Balance. Wisteria sighed. Just before the dinner bell, Mordrin promised Eamon an Aid spell and some healing potions to help against those crimson idiots.  Dinner was surprisingly delicious, pheasant and mashed potato!  And Wisteria had honestly thought monks lived on prayers, stale bread and water!  She was learning more and more; and decided to talk to a friendly looking monk, Friar Tooley, about the differences in burial rites between their orders.  He seeemed a little nervous at first, and Wisteria made a mental note to tone down the 'death-grin' that had been taught as a matter of politeness at the Temple.  Things were different outside, however, she had to keep reminding herself that. As it was getting late, Mordrin extended his hospitality even further by letting them stay the night.  The monks' cells were, again, surprisingly comfortable, and Wisteria drifted off into a mercifully dreamless sleep...........