Miles listened to the Jotun complain about him referring to that famed wyrm as 'the world eater'. So as he was guiding the group, he decided to answer.

"What should I call him? The mighty hero of glory and honor. No one is a hero. That's why I didn't give a rat's ass about the gods, where were they for me, and my people, and the people I lost along the way. Dead. That's where. The decided to drop their balls and have a hissy fight over only they know what. I didn't care for the gods, so don't say I ever have. I don't worship anything but a good weapon, delicious food and a life of suffering that won't ever end." Miles replied to the Jotun.

What did he care if the big brute took offense, not like anyone cared when his only friends died in a fire, or when the trainer at the fighter school did unmentionable things to his 'practice dummy'. Its just one burnt, collapsed bridge where compassion once crossed over the sea of despair.

He looked away from the Jotun, and instead pointed forward towards a split in the tunnels.

"Left." Declared Miles. "Only a short distance till we see the light, or darkness, and who knows what time of day it is..." Added Miles.

Maybe he was a bit aggressive to the Jotun, especially since he will probably battle side by side along this quest. Miles felt bad, at least a little. But maybe this was just a rush of emotions being thawed from the metaphorical block of ice that can be called his heart. And this was an odd outburst, he never talked in this manner. He just sulked behind, pouting about what shit went down in his life. Maybe a new group means a new personality.

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