Daedric, The Dire | The 4th Horseman

You might blink when you hear that the 4th Horseman was a Firbolg. You might think it impossible a member of that strange, exotic race bent the world to their making. And if you thought that, you might find most are with you in agreement … but you’d also find yourself dead wrong.


Destroyer of the Tower-bear

The Boaz Birther Ascended to Unlife

Felled at the Battle of the Citadel


Formation of the Dire Guard

Drawn from the deep woods to Allabright in search of his kin, Daedric found himself in a world alien. And alien did the world find him. Eyes stared wide as the giant plodded through the Capital’s streets. Children gasped and Dwarves grumbled. But like water off a duck’s back, it didn’t faze Daedric in the slightest. Nay, it contributed to the experience, contributed to the thrill of probing this forest of clay and stone, of sleeping in beds soft as clouds and slurping eye-rolling liquor.

The most untraditional of The Horsemen, Daedric was a strange ally. The giant cared for his brothers and sisters, healing broken bones and rekindling broken spirits. What’s this? You did not notice the author describe him a gentle-giant? As well you should! For behind those large, deep eyes lay a fury so feral, so dire, it made centaurs seem civilized. The cleric charged into battle, channeling his sorcery into deadly bolts of carnage; and when that sorcery was depleted, would turn into something even more primal, and break their backs over bent knee. His magic was a grim magic, and as he gave life, so did he take it away.

Daedric was a Forest-Man of the cloth, but at times … it seemed his god had truly abandoned him. The poor Firbolg was tested to his spirits length, saw sights to test his very sanity, and finally, and most cruelly, he was tested to make the right choice, again and again and again. His was a life of piety and integrity … And with that, a life … of sacrifice. And it was there, in the Citadel, fighting amongst his new found brothers, he made the final sacrifice … And was no more. Or is that so? For words whisper of a roaming specter … a demonic visage of a Firbolg, horned and pale, ever willing to give a something and take … ever willing to set the books straight. And so, it seems, Daedric, The Dire’s story is not yet done …

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