Akamu stood out from most of the people in Vilar, having adorned himself with a tattered cloak and an intricately woven scarf. The scarf he wrapped around his forehead and neck and let the excess hang loose upon his back. A sleeveless black tunic and a matching pair of pants was all he wore apart from the fingerless gloves and sash around his waist. Judging from his appearance one might assume he was more of a drifter or a common thief than a monk, and neither of these presumptions could be deemed untrue.<br/><br/>Long ago, before he was a monk, Akamu had been a thief.<br/><br/>He was once a member of a criminal syndicate, and found out the hard way that there is no honor among thieves. He was set-up to take the fall for the group’s criminal activity, and then abandoned by his peers.  While serving a ten-year sentence, he met a priest who ministered to the inmates of the prison.  His words spoke to Akamu and eventually he became a true believer, renouncing his past life and vowing to uphold the Great Spirit.  Since his release after serving his time, he traveled far over earth and ocean, and now he found himself in the small city of Vilar.....<br/><br/>At last he reached Starbucks. Pondering which beverage he would start with, Akamu reached for the door and jerked it open. A chorus of voices immediately engulfed him in a cacophony, drawing his senses into the boistrous atmosphere beyond the door's threshold. Sighing heavily, he entered, the muscles in his face relaxing. He surveyed the room and noticed a half-orc and a young tiefling, both of whom struck him as odd, but he quickly dismissed the thought--thinking it rather rude to judge someone without knowing them first.