Cael Ironbrow Backstory

Waiting for you at the table is a human male.  He's a bit short at 5'4", and his lean build doesn't do him any favors at appearing intimidating.  However, his large grin and cheerful slate blue eyes suggest that he's more interested in making friends than enemies.  He pushes his chin-length hair back with his hands as you sit down, revealing a couple shocks of silver hair that run through it in spite of his young age.
"Hello there! I heard you wanted to hear about me.  Well, my name is Cael Ironbrow.  Past that though, wouldn't you like to hear about something more interesting than me? Maybe the Ballad of the Border King? The Demon Dwarf's Dreadmarch? What about Larry the Ly-Can't-Thrope?"
As you sit there silently waiting, his smile slowly fades into a deep sigh. "Alright.  Well, I can't say I wasn't expecting your reaction, so I'll do my best.  I can't promise you'll find it entertaining though."
"As an infant, I was left on the steps of the Church of <Deity> in my home city of Everglen.  Father Ironbrow is the one who found me and took me in.  He's a good man, and once you get past his normal dwarven gruff you realize that he's just a big softy.  He insisted on keeping me at the church instead of finding me another home, and raised me as his own.  He did tell me that he wasn't my biological father as soon as I was old enough to understand though, but that's neither here nor there."
"While growing up, I did my absolute best to make myself useful around the church in order to show the other priests that I was happy to be staying there with them and my father.  I cleaned, played with children when their parents needed to speak to clergymen, as well as dozens of other little jobs.  My constant interaction with the other people as they came and went helped, and as such I'm really good when it comes to talking to and understanding most folk.  I mean, I did get bullied when I was little, but the kids that picked on me had harder lives than I did, so it was understandable that they needed an outlet..."
"Over time, the people around the church basically adopted me as well.  I was taught how to read and write by Miss Thomas while she was teaching Jakob, Mister Cobblefoot taught me about money and business, and Lady Irien taught me how to sing without being off key.  When I was ten, Lady Irien even brought me an old lute that we then fixed up together and she taught me how to play it!  After that, I was responsible for any music that the church required for religious services or funerals.  All in all, my childhood was really nice... a lot nicer than others I have seen or heard about."
"About three years ago, a man in a dark cloak came into the church late at night.  I was fixing up my lute while talking to my father, so we welcomed him and checked on his wounds.  When my dad found out that the man was a thief and had been injured while fleeing the soldiers, he calmly informed the man that he would have to turn him in after healing him... that's when the man drew a knife and stabbed him."
Cael's expression hardens a bit as he continues. "My dad screamed, and I saw the blood coming from his chest as he fell down unconscious from the pain...  That's... that's where my memory blacks out.  I only know what happened next because of what another priest saw as he came into the room after hearing the scream.  Apparently I dropped my lute and blasted the man with holy fire before... before..."
He takes a few deep breaths, trying to compose himself.  When he speaks again, his voice is softer as he wrings his hands guiltily. "Before I grabbed him by the throat and drained the very life out of his body.  Parts of his face, throat and chest literally wasted away as I apparently stared at him while watching him die."
"My own memory starts back again with me cradling my father's head as he was bleeding on the floor.  There wasn't time to get the head priest in there to heal him before he would die, so I started to softly sing a lullaby that he would always use to calm me.  I... I didn't want to lose him, and I was praying with every word that he'd somehow recover.  About halfway through, something about the song... changed.  The words were the same as always, the notes were the same... but there was this... power behind them.  I can't describe it, but I know that it's not from <deity> or anything... the power doesn't feel the same as praying.  But when I finished the song, the power left me and flowed into him.  I almost couldn't believe my eyes as the skin of his chest closed and his breathing became slow and easy... I had healed him with the song, though I had no clue how..."
"I spent the next few months piecing together how to use my newfound power.  Calling that fire was easy, though I have never, EVER tried to... well, you know.  But I found that a lot of the songs I learned while growing up suddenly had different power behind them, as did insults if I felt strongly enough.  And once I was able to call the power a few times, I was able to attach it to quick performances instead of whole songs, typically just a few notes on my lute would do the trick.  I then requested for and was granted the authority to tend to any children that needed the services of the church when they came in injured, as they were far more comfortable with a happy, singing boy than a stuffy old priest..."
"Life went on like that for about a year, until my father told me that he had received a personal vision from <Deity>.  I was supposed to go on a journey of self-discovery, though he did not know why or for how long.  He gave me papers marking me as a member of the clergy, as well as supplies to help me on the road ahead.  Ever since, I've been going from town to town, helping those that are sick or hurt before moving on.  Sometimes I'll stay and provide funeral rights and comfort for families that lost members while I was there, though I can proudly say that all of the copper I have made from that has always 'mysteriously' found its way into the hands of hungry families or children instead of my own coin purse."
"That pretty much brings my story to today, at this table where we now sit.  It's been a good life, all things considered, though sometimes at night I have a hard time sleeping as I worry about what I did to that man.  On those nights, I swear that I can hear something laughing in the back of my head just before I fall asleep.  I don't know what's wrong with me, or even if anything is wrong with me... but I doubt that whatever is laughing is something good or wholesome..."