The Paladin
The pitter-patter of the cold water hitting the stone under his feet set the rhythm for his footsteps.
Plip-plop, plip-plop, plip-plop
Again and again, this was the only thing in his mind while he practiced his sword motions against an instructor.
Plip-plop, plip-plop
He always strived to do above and beyond his best. Striving to surpass himself and others, never stopping.
Plip-plop
This was the only thing left for him. An acolyte in a militant order, with no loved ones, trained to love combat. Raised from a young age to be a warrior, a sword, a Paladin.
"Good job Lancel!" boomed the instructor, picking himself up off the ground "Looks like I'm no use to ya anymore!"
"You are far more experienced than me sir, plus, you were holding back." Said Lancel quietly
"Noticed that, didn't cha? Well, no matter, let's go get some lunch. Ya must be tired after all that sparring."
"Yes sir."
As they headed off towards the feast hall, the instructor tried to rearrange his thoughts 'That boy's gonna be a real powerhouse in a few years. Hell, I was using half my power and he STILL managed to knock me off my ass.'
As Lancel and the instructor arrived at the feast hall, Lancel headed off towards a particular table in the throng of lunchtime where your group of acolytes were eating.
"Oy, freak, off crying 'bout your dead folks?"
As one particular acolyte with a mean streak said that, most of the children at the table laughed, except for a small percentage who remained stoic. These were the children that had the highest chances of becoming actual paladins.
"What, got nothing to say? Did that hair dye of your's make you deaf AND dumb?"
He was obviously referring to your purple hair, which, I'll have you know, is completely natural.
As you sat down and ignored him, the acolyte was working himself into a rage, until finally, he stomped over to you side of the table and grabbed your right hand, which currently held a fork that was making it's way to your mouth.
"HEY! Did ya hear me? Or do I need to beatcha senseless until you get the point?"
Quicker than his eyes could track, you held a sharpened dinner knife to his throat.
"I would advise you not to do that" you said, in a quiet, but powerful voice.
The acolytes at the table stopped their whispering, all falling to a hush, their eyes on you.
The bully stared, eyes wide, but not at your face.
No, he stared at the knife you held to his throat, red lines slowly spreading through it, turning the material itself black.
At the sound of your voice, he gazed back at you, only for his eyes to (somehow) become even wider.
A black (nearly imperceptible) mist was starting to waft off your body. More, though, your eyes held a slight red gleam in their purple depths.
As soon as you noticed these changes, you quickly retreated the knife back to your plate, trying to calm yourself down.
'That was close' you think 'I need to keep The Curse under control.'
"What's going on here?" you distantly hear a Paladin, attracted by the hush of your table saying.
"N-nothing sir" stuttered the bully fearfully.
"Settle down then." stated the Paladin, leaving the table.
At once, the acolytes continued their murmurings, many talking about what just happened, and other not.
You happened to overhear one such conversation.
"No! I'm telling you, it's true! One of those Baragars around our age managed to kill a dragon! And a Greater one at that!" said a skinny acolyte.
"That can't be true! No way anybody, even a Baragar, managed to kill a Greater Dragon at our age." said a much rounder acolyte.
"It's true! My dad says she's even using the skull for a tree house." said the first acolyte.
After this, you tuned them out, and started thinking.
'Baragar… Could you be the one to finally give me the fight I've always yearned for? Could you be the one to finally give me… a purpose?'
END
Sorry if it's not that good. It's my first time writing anything for entertainment, so don't be afraid to give me criticism. Thoughts?