<div class="floatleft">(http://i38.tinypic.com/2iw7itg.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Joran<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Sandpoint Cathedral Square<br/><strong>With:</strong>Anyone who's there.<br/><br/>Joran was in fine spirits that morning. After all, it wasn't every day you attended the re-dedication or sanctification or what have you of a cathedral. His night at the White Deer had been pleasant enough, nothing so boisterous as to keep him from his rest. His bow rested taut against his back, a cleric of Erastil could hardly make a public appearance at a cathedral without a bow, that much was sacrosanct. He marveled at the crowd that had assembled, pondering their various histories, stories, and situations. It mattered little to him, but he was sure they would be interesting to one more prone to listening than speaking. Himself, he liked making up stories. Perhaps those two were on a tryst, stolen away from her husband. Joran often read such tales in the books he found. It seemed to him that the other clerics had a great deal of interest in the goings-on of farmers' wives.<br/><br/>Perhaps it was the habit of elderly humans to recount the days of their youth. Though who could picture them as brigands, pirates, or wandering minstrels... and ever the fascination with the goings-on of the wives of farmers. As he stood there however, he thought that perhaps he'd like to have one of those books with him at the moment. The cathedral was lovely, but it was not as exciting as he'd hoped it would be. He thought there would be lively discussion and debate, but so far he just found... people.