Kirk Tabris

Hey guys, thanks for continuing to read and the comments you leave me. Don't worry this is just the first of four new parts I've written, the other three still need to be edited but should be uploaded/published fairly soon. Special thanks to Jef379, you've really inspired the flow of this four part installment.

 

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He led Alistair, Zevran and Wynne down the corridors of the estate leaving the trio; his most trusted allies in and out of combat, wondering how on earth an elf from the slums of Denerim knew the estate of the Arl of Denerim so well. Kirk reached for an arrow, slid it into place and drew the bowstring back into place as he heard a voice further up the corridor; a guard stepped out from the doorway of an adjoining room spotting the intruders and drawing his sword as his throat was pierced by the arrow. More shouts came from the room and Kirk slew each guard that emerged with a well-placed arrow, none of his companions having to move a muscle as the men dropped into a slowly forming pile of corpses.

It all left Kirk wondering if this was going to be a regular event in his life; sneaking into the grand estate of the Arl of Denerim to rescue a woman, massacring guards and murdering nobles along the way.

He had returned to Denerim several times since the Battle of Ostagar; found Alistair’s sister, hunted down Marjolaine, sought out Brother Genitivi and even ended the schemes of some Blood mages hiding out in a building on the very border of the Alienage. That had been as close as he could get to the Alienage and his family therein; the slums having been closed off after many riots. He had not seen anyone, not even a glimpse of Soris or Shianni, or even his father or the elder; the people he was fighting the darkspawn for; the people he always fought for. It surprised him how much he had come to miss that simple life while spending so much time on the road. There was so much fighting, fighting against forces that seemed to only swell in numbers the more he cut down.

And despite all that he had witnessed in his journey he had never thought he would return to this place; this estate. Standing in these halls that he had once painted with blood and death he could feel that familiar and near overwhelming desire for violence begin to stir deep inside him once more. His gut twisting as he fought it back, starving it of attention all the while feeding its lust as more guards fell by his hands.