Cecil pauses at the mention of the monastery. His eyes glance off to the side, briefly going still as if someone caught him sneaking around.
"You would be the first to think so."
The blue kobold confides. It's...not a subject he likes getting into, but Rakka would understand it better than most. It's what gets Cecil to hop off the sword's hilt and instead take a seat beside the bard, an uncertainty running through him and escaping through a sigh.
"It is true, that we carry Tiamat's blood and spirit. For my clan, perhaps others, she took it a step further. All the hatred, the prejudice kobolds endure, she nurtured it, let it twist them into becoming her soldiers. In exchange, we were taught to harness that anger through a martial arts fashioned after the elements she controls: the Five Forms of Destruction. It's a clever plan, I will admit, but one with a paradoxical caveat: if they are trained to hate and spite those who wronged them, what is one to do if they were wronged by their clan? Their goddess, even? The hypocrisy of kobolds hating and judging the smallest among them perpetuates lady Tiamat's teachings, but goes against them all the same."
He lays back a little, taking off his top hat and monocle. "In truth, I do not miss my clan. Though much of what I've endured lingers, if only through constant self-reflection, I am glad to be rid of them. Perhaps they think of me as a traitor or a heretic, but if I may confide in you further, Rakka? I welcome the day I don't describe myself with their words. I suppose part of that fuels my interest in dragoons; through them, perhaps I could be proud of my draconic heritage."
no subject
"You would be the first to think so."
The blue kobold confides. It's...not a subject he likes getting into, but Rakka would understand it better than most. It's what gets Cecil to hop off the sword's hilt and instead take a seat beside the bard, an uncertainty running through him and escaping through a sigh.
"It is true, that we carry Tiamat's blood and spirit. For my clan, perhaps others, she took it a step further. All the hatred, the prejudice kobolds endure, she nurtured it, let it twist them into becoming her soldiers. In exchange, we were taught to harness that anger through a martial arts fashioned after the elements she controls: the Five Forms of Destruction. It's a clever plan, I will admit, but one with a paradoxical caveat: if they are trained to hate and spite those who wronged them, what is one to do if they were wronged by their clan? Their goddess, even? The hypocrisy of kobolds hating and judging the smallest among them perpetuates lady Tiamat's teachings, but goes against them all the same."
He lays back a little, taking off his top hat and monocle. "In truth, I do not miss my clan. Though much of what I've endured lingers, if only through constant self-reflection, I am glad to be rid of them. Perhaps they think of me as a traitor or a heretic, but if I may confide in you further, Rakka? I welcome the day I don't describe myself with their words. I suppose part of that fuels my interest in dragoons; through them, perhaps I could be proud of my draconic heritage."