Black Paladin

Chapter 1: Life before

This is the story of Obsidian Sinclair; the man, the monster, the legend. This is the story of unimaginable heights, and blistering falls. This is a story of pain, and bloody evolution. This is my story.

I lived in a small town is the northern coasts of Vale called Spartum. We have some...

strange traditions.

After the demand for a short demonstration, we heard Mr. Steel shout, "You have all met the age where you will be attending camp. Prep weapons, and be here tomorrow at 6 AM sharp!"

As trained we saluted, called, "Sir!"

I looked up at the other trainees. Seven, every one of them. Basic training started under Mrs. Steel at the age of 5. However, due to several unfortunate events, I never went through that.

At age 7 everyone was required to attend a 3 year boot camp. At 10, finished with camp, you served 8 years in defense of the town, then you could leave. If you died, or left, the extra fell to relatives soon to enter camp.

My mother, Vivian Sinclair, found me about to be killed by Beowolves 5 years ago. However she died serving her second term shortly after my fifth birthday, and due to town rules, I needed to be under the care of a working adult, or be in training. Since I didn't have any relatives in this town, and I was hungry, I decided to go to the practice hall, hoping I wouldn't fall too far behind.

"Welcome to boot camp. Also known as hell. You will all be spending the next 3 years under my care. Here we have some rules. If you use aura outside of the times I specifically tell you that you may, you will repeat the exercise, and then get 10 lashes. If you look to your left, Shiva will be administering these punishments." We looked to see Shiva, a bear fanus, whose signature weapon is a whip. Some of us have seen that thing rip Ursa in half, not something I want snapping at me. "If you are the last done you will get 10 lashes. If you get more than 500 lashes during the year, you will be here an extra year. Am I CLEAR?"

"Sir!" We called. And again I look to the other trainees, noting with fear the camaraderie they share, and knowing I was going to need to be the best if I hoped to survive.

At the end of the first month, I was beaten black and blue, having almost 6 inches on me made the others faster, and being 2 years older than me made them stronger, and worse, having 2 years more training made them better than me. My only salvation was a caveat that they put into place toward the beginning.

"Today we begin combat practices. We will be having these every day after morning meal. The first person defeated, will get 10 lashes. These however don't count toward your repetitions."

Sparring went about as well as can be expected. I only hit about 150 lashes before I could take one of the older boys down with me.

"Today marks the end of the first 6 months of your 36 month training. Today we have something special planned. Get your gear, and reconvene here in 10."

So we did.

"We will be dropping you off randomly in the woods to the south of the town. You will get 3 days of rations, and you will bring us back a Grimm's head, if you studied, you will remember they can be preserved immediately after death through application of aura to the desired parts. You will bring back a part, or you will not come back."

We were dropped. I almost immediately wished I had a weapon more suited to kill Grimm, not outlast human opponents. Mesmer is a thin sword, not quite a rapier, but forged especially for immense durability and speed. I had perfected what my mother before me had called 'Death by 1000 Cuts' as her dagger style doesn't work when you can't be in a dozen places at once, like she could. The downside, is that when killing armored Grimm you need force, massive overwhelming force. Blunt force (Maces, punching, bullets) or large cutting edges (scythes, swords, think bladed things) to get through the armored shells most possessed.

My new sword, Mesmer, a thin cubic blade, had 4 120° cutting edges making a warped square, and ending at a rounded edge. Maximum antipersonnel abilities, with parring, and quick slashes, that bleed away aura, but against armor? It couldn't be less effective, and most Grimm have natural armor, stronger than anything man can make for the almost non existent weight.

I had fantasized about a weapon made of the stuff, as when forged, and specifically overlaid, like Mesmer's steel, would have a high physical density to go with its natural durability, making it all but indestructible, but as Grimm fade to nothing when they are killed, it wouldn't work.

I heard a scream through the brush, and I readied my sword. I dashed through it, and got a eye full of my first Grimm. Unfortunately for me, and the bloody stain on it's claws, it was an ancient Deathstalker. A Grimm covered in a thick armor on about 99% of it's body. The eyes were already half gone, and one of them had a sword sticking out of it, and I think it's Jason's. That doesn't help me any, he is already at the bottom of the class. The Deathstalker turned toward me, and looked pissed.

It's tail went back, and I threw my arms up. I knew I was going to die, and I think I understand what they mean when they say when your life flashes before your eyes. Then a pain like nothing else in the world, unlike anything I have ever felt ripped through my arms. I felt an impact, and got thrown through the brush behind me, and the tree behind that, then opened my eyes. I saw white armored plates, Grimm plates, my mind numble supplied, growing out of my arms to form a shield. The numbness faded to terror, I had Grimm Armor growing from my arms! Then a much more pressing matter slashed down the rest of the trees between us, and this time the Deathstalker stopped. We stared at each other, and in the back of my mind, a random thought occurred, 'Can I grow a Deathstalkers stinger?' and as I thought this I brought my arms into a fighting stance, a shield on my left, and I tried to flex my right, but they felt stuck. Concerned my arm was broken, I looked. There growing from my shoulder, and easily longer than I was tall, a thin Deathstalker stinger, and all I could think of was, seemingly on loop in my new state, 'shouldn't that grow from the base of my spine?'

Then a soft impact on the back of my head.

I turn, and there is a Deathstalker tail. A second one. Thicker than the first, and longer, and the head was thinner. I made it sway, it was faster than the one on my arm. The Deathstalker was just sitting there. I looked at it, and I felt something. A tingling as I looked into it's eyes. I felt, a connection. I felt a pushing, and I pushed back, and the Grimm seemed to open. I felt it thinking, the instincts, the memories.

I looked up. The sky burned orange. I looked around, at the dozens of others to crawl out of the pit. I felt a burning red, accompanying a voice, I couldn't make out the words, but I could feel obedience burn in my soul. I crawled out of the pit slowly, and for years, decades, I crawled, from the desert, with crystals, then beach, then trees. I slept, I grew. Dozens, hundreds of years. Memories of fighting. Grimm: Beowulf, Ursa, King Taijitu, Beringel, Boarbatusk, Geist. People, thousands of them. Armed with Dust, swords, guns, weapons I had never dreamed of. All of them slaughtered. More people than live in Spartum have died on that tail. Up until a young scraggly boy stood there, and grew my parts.

I fell backward, onto my new tail. The Deathstalker reared his tail, and I just wanted it to stop. It did. It paused in place. I tilted my head, curious. It remained paused. I wondered what else I could do. I wanted it to curl in it's tail. It did. I wanted it to cower behind it's claws. It did. I said, "Jump.", but nothing happened. I thought jump. It did. I thought, go. It turned what I believed was south, and left. I looked down on my new limbs. I focused on my normal limbs. I felt the chitin that made up the tails fade into me, and thought, 'Can I do other Grimm parts too?'

I pictured the Beowulfs legs, and I focused, but my arm wouldn't change. Aggravated, I turn, and kick the tree, and gets stuck. I look down and my legs are Beowulf legs. Ok, so legs equal legs, and so how did the tail, do they focus on existing limbs? That makes sense. How would wings…I felt a pain in my back, and looked at my wings impacting the tree behind me. Well, that answers that.

I looked at my scroll, and saw it had been 6 hours since we got dropped off. I had 3 days of isolation to figure out this new ability. I began my experimentation.

I found a pond. Relieved, they gave us 5 days of water, and mine was about empty. I leaned over, and screamed. Staring back at me was a hideous figure. Black eyes that felt endless, replacing my teal. White hair, replacing my black, and red tendrils extending from the, my, eyes, up through my hair, and down below my collar. A small white tendril complemented the core of each of the red tendril, creating a terrifying visage. I stepped back. Not knowing what to do, I took steps back and fell against the trees behind me. I was a monster. How could I look so..evil. I looked back at my reflection in the water, and I tried to force a change.

A silent scream of pain ripped through me, and I fell kneeling to the lip of the pond. My face blurry below my vision. The world swam in colors, and I felt terrible. After my vision normalised, I looked down, and the tendrils were almost gone, but my hair and eyes were the same, and groaned. That much pain for so little change. I gripped the dirt and began again, and for a moment, the pain was all consuming, but I pushed, readyer knowing what was coming. I looked down as the pain faded. My hair was a stone grey, making me look like I had gained 100 years in a second. My eyes were a dark forest green, and looked like death sat very still behind them. I still wasn't calm, as my hair was not acceptable to come back with, and the eyes while easier to explain, were still going to be difficult.

I thought, and realized I maybe had an out, I focused, and my hair was replaced with Beowulf fur, and was very soft. I had no idea. Next I concentrated on my eyes, making them pale to a dim teal, lighter than before, but not incriminatory so. I smiled at my handy work, and looked down at my scroll. I had a day and a half. I looked around, feeling for the Grimm in the area, and I felt a small group of Beowulfes, and started walking.

I slowly stuck my head over the bush, and released the last vestiges of Grimm aura, and got the attention of the Grimm.

I had discovered that with any Grimm parts active when I got close, the Grimm ignored me. However if I activated them when they were close by, they got pissed.

I saw them turn toward me, and I drew my sword, and the Grimm plate shield. They charged, and I drew them into the thicker woods, where their size, and speed were restricted. As they got close, I turned about a tree, and launched myself at the closer Beowulf. I swung down, amplifying my strength with the condensed muscles of an Ursa, and lobbed it in half easily. The other required more care, I toned down the muscle, and upped my speed, my knees inverting in a toe curling squelch, and I launched myself at the legs. It howled as I cut off it's right foreleg, and I swung downward, again with augmenting my arms, and decapitated it. As I calmed, and reorientated my legs, I grabbed the head, again noticing the fur was amazingly soft, and attempted to infuse my aura with it.

I thought it was working, until the neck started to bulge outward, and in a flash, the body regrew, with a red tint, and more plaiting than I had ever seen on a Beowulf. I took a step back, terrified of what I had done, when it paused, cocking its head at me, almost like the Grimm before, when I walked up with Grimm parts pre-attached, and I thought I could try again, when it sat. Sat, like a trained dog.

For minutes I sat there, beyond confused. It continued to stare at me, and I finally decided to leave. As I turned to walk away, it stood, and I turned ready to fight. As I stopped, it sat again. I was now truly confused. I stopped, and after a moment's consideration, took a small leap back. It took 2 steps, and was the same distance from me it was before I moved. I smirked. 'Well, it has I head.' I thought viciously, before crushing that urge, I couldn't explain a Beowulf taking my commands. I thought maybe a small fox, but…

And the Beowulf began to change, it shifted in a mass of dark writhing mass, and was suddenly the size of a small wuf, or a large fox, with bright red fur, and white patches, not immediately associated with Grimm, and eyes that could almost be considered normal. They had the standard White-Color-Black color scheme, but the colors was Grimm red. I looked, and wondered if it could yip like an actual…

"Yes." It said.

I almost choked, "You can talk?" I sputtered.

"Well only to you, you created me." It said, almost smug.

"I what?" I asked, still discombobulated.

"You killed the Beowulf, and created me out of the...leftovers." It said.

"What does this sound like to others?" I ask, slowly, almost convinced I was going crazy.

"Barking." It says, like I should know, "Obviously."

"Obviously." I mutter, deep in thought.

'Well how can I preserve a Grimm head for my mission?' I asked myself.

"You could create one." The fox-wulf said.

"You can here my thought?!" I demand.

"Yes." It says again, like I should know that.

"Oh." I say.

I focus on a Beowulf hard, and push, and feel a weight on my hands. Boom, Beowulf head. 'Now how did I keep my thoughts from the…' I look at the Beo-fox? Fox-wulf, '...Ummm.'

"Well you can want to." It says, still aggravatingly cocky.

Can I, I think. And hearing no response, I assume I can.

"Well, let's go back to town." I say, waving the… "What should I call you?"

"Well I don't have a name, and Beowulf would be conspicuous." It says.

"Well I name you.." I think, what yo name him… Got it. "Hound."

"No. That is insulting." It says.

"Ok, what do you want to be named then?"

"I would like to be named Canim." Canim says.

"Ok. So Canim, Come!" I say waving toward the direction of town.

And we were off.

AN: My chapters are going to be about 2500 words. I don't have a concrete publishing schedule. If you think you will like it, leave a comment. I intend to follow the storyline through through canon, with minor exception I make. Creative license and all.

V- Signing off.