"The mark... it is you!"
I rolled my eyes.
"No, it is most certainly not me. I swear, I am not the subject of your ridiculous prophecy. Yes, it slightly resembles a dragon, but maybe it's a lizard! And if you look at it from this angle it resembles a bird! I'm telling you this is a coincidence."
"No. We have waited for this day for generations. You are here to liberate us."
I glared at him, his pointy ears infuriating me. His face was turning red with excitement, or frustration. He searched for the words to convince me.
"The one with the dragonmark and the hair of gold will bring our people riches untold!"
"Well it's actually more of a dirty blonde, but that's beside the point. You and I do not know each other. To be frank, I couldn't care less about your suffering. I'm exhausted of this damn birthmark and the crap it brings me. No. Don't speak to me."
I stormed off, leaving the saddened elf standing wearily behind me. After three days of hard travel, I came to a village inn to rest. I sat down at the bar, and ordered a pint of hard ale. A grizzled old man next to me looked at the visible mark on my hand.
"So you're the one they told of long ago..." he began.
I was out the door before he could even finish." - W.P. Scarborough
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