Frosted Iron

Jigano was interested enough in his tale, and it wasn’t as if Caiside had ever needed much encouragement to talk about himself. There was still a pause though, as he considered his words, where exactly to start. “When I first came of age, I left my step fathers home. I... thought I was clever, I wanted to see the world.” Caiside paused his work to sweep his arm out dramatically, his sickness not stopping his flair for the dramatic. ”I had only been travelling for a few nights when I met a man, camped in the ruins of an elven settlement. We swapped stories, and he invited me to join him on his... quest to find his birthright.” It was strange to be talking about this all so casually, after he had spent so long keeping his past silent. It was safer to be a mystery, and easier too, here in Caido. But it was also freeing, in a strange contradictory way. These were the details no one had ever heard, the mundane before the madness he had had a hand in. Caiside paused to watch the bard copy what he had done, nodding approvingly and moving on. He felt offended rude up in him at Jigano’s noncommittal answer, a dark tidal wave that threatens to open his mouth and bare his teeth, but simmered it before he might do something he would regret. It was getting harder and harder to tamp down the anger though. I suppose it makes a difference when you’re able to set your own standards.” He agreed after a moment. ”Maybe I should have asked what you wanted to start with.” Caiside I have never been allowed to be Holy, I have never been forgiven for Wanting;