The familiar black and red heavy armour of the Dremora warrior, all draped in flame and spitting lightning bolts, these boys have a flare for the over dramatic. They seem to guard every portal to and from Oblivion. Ever duteous to this ignoble charge, it is their pride that makes them such formidable adversaries; but it can also prove to be their most naked frailty.
Whilst every Dremora I have faced has been routinely well versed in combat, physically larger, and naturally gifted in the manipulation of the elements, I have witnessed those same advantages serve only to bind them in chains made of their own arrogance.
For the eventual fate of those who do not respect the blades of their enemies is to breathe their last behind a death mask of bewilderment.