The Crusader: Xerhemies

crusader-borderXerhemies, the bane of Demons. Xerhemies the Destroyer. Xerhemies the hate of Light, Xerhemies the Fist of the Dark Gods.

Xerhemies the Crusader. How many more names will you rip from the annals of history before your time is done? The wailing of widows are a song to your ears, Xerhemies. You look upon the fires and you smile. War is in your blood; it is in your history, the zeitgeist of your people was decided beneath the burning corpses of their enemies. Your clan wiped itself from existence on the battlefield.

And yet you fight on. You fuel your existence with the engines of war. The pillars of smoke that arise from the bonfires of your enemies – that is what moves you, Xerhemies. Before the Archmage made his mark, your Gods called to you. You remember that night so well, Xerhemies. The houses ablaze, the screams, the hollers. The crackle of the fire that burnt your once great rival. It was from that fire that the voices emerged from.  They whispered your name a hundred times. Xerhemies, Xerhermies, Xerhemies, Xerhemies. They whispered your name, even as you clamped your ears shut, even as your ears bled. They whispered until you answered. And what did they want, Xerhemies? What was their one, ultimate command?

Murder. In our name. Murder.

Not once did you deter from that path, Xerhemies. You march on the demons, you march on the slaves of Lihilm, and you claim her bastions as your own. The drums of war beat to your name. Beat-beat-beat-beat-beat. They thunder and they echo across the world. And are you ever done, Xerhemies? Are you ever done?

No. You are never done. Your name will be written with hatred, Xerhemies. They will write your name with such fury and hate, Xerhemies. All of creation will despise you. Your name will be a curse of hatred. “Xerhemies take you!” they will say. Does that not deter you, Xerhemies? For a moment? Not even for the tiniest moment? Does that even touch your humanity, Xerhemies? Is there nothing left in that hollowed shell of a man? Do you have even a slither of humanity, Xerhemies? How about love? Or grace, or compassion or kindness or sympathy or anything but the fires of malice?

No. No. Of course not. They took all that away. Like words to the wind now.

 

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