"A Deadra hunter?" Reamra asked.
"Aye, we do exist." Kirmir replied amused.
Reamra looked over at Rolof, who stared at the hunter with a disbelieving look.
"I've heard of your order," Rolof voice was a whisper, "Is it true that the best of you actually go to Oblivion?"
Reamra did a double take. This man did not look like he'd seen anything worse than a bear; although his weaponry did speak for itself. Twelve daggers and a long sword: what kind of opponents requires this amount of metal?
"I've been to Oblivion more than I wish to remember." Kirmir shook his as if dispelling a bad memory, "I'm heading to Riverwood to resupply, they have a nice in where you two can rest for a night."
Rolof and Reamra looked at each other for a brief moment before nodding at the red eyed Nord.
Together; the three of them walked down the road. Kirmir even healed Rolof's shoulder as they walked.
"In my profession, you have to know how to take care of yourself." Was all he said when Reamra asked?
As dusk fell, Kirmir began to get fidgety. He began to twirl one of his daggers between his fingers with an ease that could only be acquired through years of practice. Reamra knew something was wrong but didn't know what it was and prayed to the stars that whatever it is it won't be too dangerous.
Kirmir was quickly losing patience with the bandits that had cast an illusion spell over them. The spell, itself was a work of genius. The spell was imbedded in an object that all three of them looked at, but cleverly hidden so they wouldn't see it take effect. The only problem was where in the nine blazes was the bastard. He had been using Demon vision to look at the life-force of those around him. There were four in front and two behind.
/"Well son," Mehrunes' voice sounded in his head, "What will you do?"/
What would he do?
"Father, I hope you have room on that list you started in the Oblivion Crisis." Kirmir responded flicking the knife towards one of the bodies.
Reamra gasped as she was blinded by the setting sun. She heard Rolof curse as he saw they were surrounded. Kirmir had already had his long sword in one hand and apparently used one of his dagger because, Reamra saw the body of a dead mage with a dagger buried in his throat. Sighing she lifted her sword and faced the three bandits behind her.
Blade was absolutely singing as Kirmir leapt forward and engaged the three bandits and dispatched the first two with a single swing. Devouring their souls as he turned to face the third ebony clad figure.
"Dagon spawn!" the Breton snarled.
Kirmir tilted his head in confusion; he knows that armor.
"BOETHIAH!" Kirmir shouted in his mind.
/"You called nephew?"/ Her voice taunted.
"Care to explain why this lowly piece of scum is wearing your armor?"
Boethiah's voice was full of pride as she responded, /"He's proven himself worthy and loyal."/
"He's going to be dead very soon." Kirmir shot back dodging the Bretons mace.
/"then he is unworthy."/
Shaking his head, Kirmir wondered why he hadn't opposed his deadric family sooner, focusing on the enemy before him.
Their blades met; both sang a song of blood and death. Each song held a different story; one, Kirmir love to listen to; to find the weakness in your enemy, you must understand him. The Breton's blade sand of only force, it lacked the elegance and grace imbedded deep into the Ebony Blade history.
With a smile, Kirmir pushed the Breton back and took Ebony in both hands.
"Very well, champion of Boethiah, you've show me your strength. Now I'll show you mine."
Black deadric flames ran up and down Ebony's blade. Thousands of deceived souls devoured in an instant, increasing the blade's power immeasurably.
With a roar and a flash the two men's blades met.
Reamra raised a hand to shield her eyes as she turned to see how Kirmir fared. She could've sworn that Kirmir's face had these red lines emanating from his eyes in a strange pattern, before the flash of light.
When the light dimmed, Kirmir and his opponent stood a few feet apart with their backs to each other. Kirmir's blade was engulfed in a black fire, held in a reverse grip, the blade gracefully, curved ever so slightly until the point was next to his ear. The Bandit was positioned as if he just finished a downward swing. Reamra and Rolof stared at the two in wonder. Suddenly the bandit's bade shattered and his torso slide free of his body with a sick scrapping sound.
Reamra and Rolof stood there in shock, as a faint blue smoke emerged from the fallen corpse and flew into Kirmir's sword. Its fire died as it glowed blue for the fastest of moments. Reamra began to wonder what secret this Nord held
/"this is your true nature, son. Why do you fight it so much?"/ Dagon's voice echoed throughout his thought. Kirmir had wondered that a lot himself. Why had he, Kirmir Dagon, the Heir to Destruction turn from his blood right? What drove him to leave such an intoxicating state behind? Why had he slaughtered his brethren for mortals?
He knew why. Paarthunax and he had defected from Alduin during the Dragon War because they could no longer herald the future that was heading for them. They taught mankind to fight back. To strike and win. They taught mankind to fight back. To strike and win.
/"You don't belong here!"/ Dagon snarled.
"Pity I was beginning to enjoy the atmosphere here." Kirmir responded with serine calm that had begun to seep into his very soul; as black and darkened as it may be.
Kirmir felt his father's presence leave his mind and return to his burning kingdom.
"Don't worry. There's Destruction down my path, father. Yours to be precise."
Hey guys, this chapter was really meant to emphasize Kirmir's personal quest to fight back against his family. The Ebony has two names in this chapter, both Ebony and Blade. Not very creative I know but eh whatcha gonna do. It's a sword. For anyone that caught the Darksiders two quote you're awesome. Please post reviews. Please please please. Bethesda owns everything except Kirmir and Reamra yada yada. Ciao.