Thinking about Paladins...
Thinking about Oath of Devotion Paladins, and how over time they seem less and less like flesh and more and more like stone, as solid as their oaths. How more and more it seems like a light shines from their eyes. How their movement slows as they get older, becoming more and more a thing of stone and light. How they become less a person and more an idea, a promise made flesh. When they die, they become a statue with burning light where their eyes once were. Many take their final rest upon seaside cliffs, acting as an eternal beacon to those in need.
Thinking about Oath of the Ancients Paladins, and how the grass they tread upon might grow a bit greener than it did before. How fruit tastes sweeter when they pluck it. How vegetables and grain grow from the blood and bodies of their slain foes. Life springing from bringers of death. How when they bleed, seeds and pollen might release from their wounds along with the blood. How their skin feels more like bark as they grow older. How their presence feels like peace, like rest. How when they die, the Oak Father takes this warrior into his embrace, and a fruit tree grow over their grave, so they might give once more in death as they did in life.
Thinking about Oath of Vengeance Paladins, and how their mere presence might inspire fear and truth. They barely need to ask questions, one look at those eyes, filled with wrathful calm in equal measure is enough to break almost any who look upon them. How their blood might literally boil when it is spilled, so true is their commitment. How they might weep when they are given the chance to at last be kind. How when they die there is nothing to bury, the fire in their souls fueled by their oath consumes their flesh at last, and then they are nothing but ash.
Thinking about Oathbreakers. How the sun is too bright, and it hurts their eyes. How the night is too dark, and always their vision is off. How their hands always find thorns or sharp edges. How every step they take might be an agony, a reminder of how they committed the truest and most fundamental treason of all. How the very air they breath seems to cut at their lungs as the world itself whispers "wrong thing. wrong thing. traitor" in their ears. Their blood never seeps into the ground, only evaporates. Their body does not even rot. The world itself rejects them.
Thinking about Paladins...
