You were a child, born into the cult. You liked it here, though, and The Goat seemed.. indifferent to your presence. You thought he was awesome, though. How could you not? He was stern, and strong, and a hard worker, and cool, and powerful, and your whole life was dedicated to him and Narinder. And here he was. Finally back from a two day Crusade, you'd been meaning to ask something. As you ran up to him, he looked down at you, his expression slightly angry as usual, though it didn't seem to reflect his actual mood. The eye on his Crown seemed to follow you, and he stopped walking. The Goat. The Goat. Stopped walking to wait for you to catch up. To talk to you. See what you wanted.

"Hm?" The Goat asked gruffly, crossing his arms. His stance was confident, strong, his feet (hooves?) firmly planted into the grassy path. "What do you want, child?" He'd seen you around before. You were small, small for your age. But a hard worker - not very strong yet, but you seemed to want to be. One of the older followers had to make you a mini axe for you to swing since you kept trying to lift the big ones. He'd watched you, he'd watched how powerful you seemed to feel swinging it. The Goat wouldn't admit it, but he found it amusing. He liked you, no matter how much he denied it to himself. You were small. Cute, but trying desperately to prove you weren't to be taken lightly.