John held the rag to his forearm as Nevin concentrated on his blood. He hoped the man knew what he was doing. When Nevin left go of his wrist, John tied the cloth loosely over the cut with the aid of his teeth. Even if his plain shirt was soot-stained, it was expected of smiths, and bloodstains indicated a lack of proficiency, at least if an observant eye was looking.

“Well, I met fenn in an…” John trailed off, looking at the spectacle of blood. If he’d been unaccustomed to the sight, it would have unnerved him. As it stood, it was a little strange to see it swirl and contort under the ministrations of the blood mage. He continued. “...In an unusual way. He snuck into my house. He still comes by sometimes with that ridiculous dog of his.”

As Nevin began speaking, John concentrated on committing what Nevin was saying to memory. This was the history of his people. Someone should remember, even if the records were lost to time. Giants, eh? That was definitely something interesting. That certainly made sense. According to legend, giants had inhabited the valleys where the Cromwell held authority before his bloodline had settled there. It also explained his prodigious size, as well as the size of notable members of the line Cromwell. Samuel, whose armor John had worn in battle, had held his own single-handedly against two dozen trained soldiers, so it was said. Although, the further back the legends went, the more extravagant they seemed. Bartholomew, oldest of the notable Cromwells, had reportedly won a battle against Hromagh’s champion, securing peace for his kin and anyone in their towns for generations. He smiled a little, sadly. His name would surely be in the histories, but in infamy rather than reverence.

Well, it was something to be lived with, he supposed.

“A foul thing... “

What could be in his blood but…

John turned, dragging a hand down the side of his face and sighing heavily. The armor had always been there with him, and he’d learned to live with them and use the mystical stuff to help him. Through all that, he would still want it off, though not that he could anyways. Well, the time of being content with the benefits of his armor was long passed now. He would need to find out what the armor was doing to him. Best to check anyways, though. He spoke slowly, turning back around to face Nevin.

“Is it metal?”

He knew the answer already.