a selected monk

Far, far away is an ancient priory, where a select few monks, chosen by their god, practice a sacred art. In the basement is a suit of armor, perhaps older than even the priory itself, said to hold a holy spirit. When evil threatens the land, offer your prayers to the holy spirit, and it shall awaken to do battle. Do not attempt to see beneath the helmet, or you shall be cursed. Those that do are no longer able to speak, and though they may be able to return to their daily lives, they sometimes fall into a daze. Indeed, the visage beneath the helm is beautiful, radiant, even angelic, as it was and as it always has been. And even now, it still dreams.

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Currently, we are working on beating down a large ogre. Because our Monk refuses to get close to the ogre, I’ve [the cleric] come up to flank the creature to help the Paladin and the gnome Fighter, since the ogre is focusing on the Paladin. However, it’s slow going and I’m running out of channels for the day [thank goodness for selective channeling].

Monk: I’m going to throw my pickaxe at the ogre.

Fighter: What? No! Do not throw that!

Me: Just get up close! You have a stick that lets you stay ten feet away, you don’t have to hit it with your fists!

Monk: No, I’m going to throw the pickaxe, I’m not getting close to that thing! 

Me: No, you’re not going to throw that pickaxe at the ogre. If you miss, you’re going to hit either me, or the other two fighters. 

Monk: Fine…Are there any rocks?

DM: Yes?

Monk: I pick up a small one and throw it at the ogre.