Slim Shady

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Xandar Markov

Location: In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador

Xandar heard footsteps in the distance, and it didn’t take him very long to sense that it was Fatima and the others who had arrived back. A sigh left his lips, and his steaming body settled down a bit, the heat cooling off as a bit of his stress and concerned was relieved. It seemed like all of them returned, and relatively in one piece. As much as he would have rather been there to protect them, it was part of “fate” or some bullshit that kept him away, but it all ended up working out. At least, for now. ”Yes, as you said so hopefully. Things left to fate aren’t always so kind, Widow.”

The Warlord Prince vanished his ax and vanished the firewood as he overheard the conversations going on, slowly walking back to the group. The mood was tense, and the last time Xandar tried to be a comedic relief he almost got his throat slit for it. So he just listened, hearing what he already had known. They met the black. And although they say that he seems to be a candidate for a powerful ally, Xandar wasn’t too sure. He might be controlled, yes, but a man of that power could just as easily stop them in their tracks. Not even Xandar himself was confident about a fight with Saetan. People like that have a way of twisting words, wants, to lure and seduce to take advantage of them. Sometimes the person is more dangerous than the jewel. While Xandar wasn’t ready to trust him right away, he wasn’t completely against the idea if Saetan did prove himself an ally. Right now, in this war, he would much rather have him a friend than an enemy, or at least out of their way.

But is that the risk they’re willing to take for the safety of their Queen? Well, the decision wasn’t entirely his to make. But whatever decision was made, he would do whatever it took to protect those around him. His purpose, his drive, his new outlook on life. The proud Eyrien had a cause worth fighting for, which is just as dangerous as one with nothing to lose.

Xandar summoned some firewood into his hands and tended to the fire, feeding it more fuel and stacking it neatly to keep it contained. He had spent many a night making outdoor fireplaces just like this, keeping himself warm while trying to ward off creatures. Still, sometimes fires like this brought more attention than he wanted. He looked over at Fatima who looked solemn, speechless, visibly shaken from her encounter with Saetan. He didn’t want to approach her yet, but, when her eyes caught his, he offered a smile. A soft one, subtle, but enough to ensure he was there for her and everything was okay now.

”I might not have been there to greet the Black, but I would be careful about being quick to trust him. If he wants something from us, he’ll come to us and make that abundantly clear. But for now it’d be best to not give him a reason to change his mind. Leaving is fine with me, it’d be best if we continued before the locals get suspicious.”

Xandar shared his two cents, speaking in a low but firm tone as he fixed up the fire. Once he was done with that he stretched a bit, yawning, feeling the sweat glistening off his body evaporating from the heat in front of him. He sat down on a larger log around the campfire, content on sitting quietly by the fire. However, he was curious was Bellinar and Denvar were up to, noticing the absence of the one. But, you never knew what the brothers were ever up to, especially Gennar, who seemed a bit pissed off at the Widow. Maybe Xandar wouldn’t be so mean to her tonight, she looks like she’s had enough. As for the others, he was a bit impartial, simply glad they were safe and well.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Xandar Markov

Location: In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador

It'd been hours waiting for the rest of the party to return, and night fell on the empty town. The Ebon-Grey Warlord Prince grew ever restless, not so patiently waiting and growing ever more disturbed that the Black was running around HIS Queen like that and he was forced to wait with his thumb up his ass. He knew the Black had contacted her, as Faeril showed when she looked like she got the wind knocked out of her and he had to catch her. He carried her back to the caravan and dumped her off in Gen and the lot of them, not saying much as he left her in their care. He knew if he opened his mouth it wasn't going to be anything kind, he was too frustrated, so he left himself to his own devices as the rest of them inevitably argued about the situation.

Xandar left himself to chop some firewood nearby, summoning an axe to his hand and stripping off his shirt as he hacked away on the poor trees that crossed his path. The man seemed like he was literally blowing off steam as his blood boiled, heat erupting from him in the cold air as smoke rolled off his body. The swing of the ax grew swifter, more forceful, becoming less precise as he was more or less just beating the shit out of the trees in pure frustration now. "I can't wait around like this. This is bullshit. Fuck fate and destiny, I control my fate in my own hands!" The Eyrien yelled in frustration, swinging his axe and cleaving a tree clean in half, felling it as he sighed heavily, his chest heaving as he breathed in and out.

"If they're aren't back by the time the sun comes up, I'm dragging them back myself... That god damn Widow better be right about all this."

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Xandar Markov

Location: In the ruined town of Sharon, Shalador

Xandar stiffened up at the touch, but exhaled slowly. He knew the Landens were a gigantic pain in the ass, and their rebellion would only cause more of a headache than they were worth. Still, just disposing of this small lot wouldn't hurt, nobody would miss them or even know they were dead. He was just used to his days of being a rogue, hiding in abandoned buildings like this. He got real tired of trying to talk, persuade, and convince others. It was much easier to either stay hidden or kill anybody who could pass on word of his presence. If it was women and children he would think twice about such violence, but these seemed like a bunch of blundering idiots. Or, even worse, they could be spies for that Queen.

It was out of his hands though, as he nodded and let the witch slip past him, as the Warlord Prince simply stood in the doorway and listened in on the conversation. They were a bunch of poor and ragged men who were blabbering on about rebellion, and when they spotted the Widow, they didn't seem too pleased. It didn't take too long for them to think about selling her out, even at the risk of their own lives. If there was even a hint of some reward that they could get, they would pounce on it, anything to give them a glimmer of hope out of their mediocre lives. It seemed like it was a stalemate, and he wasn't going to let them simply wander off know that they knew one of them was here.

The Reaper walked into the open, firmly closing the door behind him and leaning against it. The group of five men went wide eyed, watching at the Warlord Prince played with his ring that held the Sapphire Jewel. He looked very disinterested in the conversation, but there was just a... terrifying aura about him. It was clear that he was with Faeril, and that he could easily make their lives a living hell in an instant. The moment he looked over at the group they shuttered, the cracked out individual covering his head and diving to the floor. Just a look, a glance, it seemed like those bright gold eyes were staring into their souls.

He didn't say a word though, as he looked back down at his ring again and mused over it, rubbing his thumb along the fine edges of it. It was only for a moment, but that glance tensed up the group, and the bearded one took a few seconds to compose himself before finally mustering up the courage to speak. "W-well, um. W-we d... don't have to tell the queen about nothin'! Nope, like we never even seen ya. J-just be on our way."

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Xandar Markov

Location: Smuggler's den in town

Xandar nodded, listening to the man as he spoke. He thought maybe asking him about what he had seen would be useful to the warlord prince, but it seemed he was nothing but a dead man trying to cling on to life. A sad existence really. He was going to be of no use to him, and while he had sympathy for those under an unjust Queen, it only got him so far. Besides, he wasn’t about to give the man any ideas.

”Well, I hope that the afterlife treats you better than here. You can die happy knowing that Lady Marthea is going to repent soon enough.”

As soon as those words left his lips, his hand shot out in front of him and his sapphire jewel glowed in the dim light. A psychic blast shot from his hand, landing in the heart of the undead man and practically vaporizing him. It was also a direct hit on the jewel, the most important part, as the thing shattered and bits scattered to the ground. Xandar sighed softly, turning to Faeril.

”Well that was a waste of time. All that for a sob story. Come on, don’t rip your dress this time. Unless you wish to be carried. Or thrown.”

”Carry or throw me and it’s the last thing you will do.” The Black Widow snapped at the man her temper frayed by the realization that one of the Blood’s mysteries was true. The demon-dead had been rumored amongst the Hourglass Coven before but now… Shaking her head the Eyrien woman snipped in annoyance. ”And I would hardly call his story such a thing. It’s a common one or are you so blind to what goes on?”

”Oh so angry all the time are we? It was a fair question. If you plan on climbing up yourself then get a move on, will you? It doesn’t smell great down here.” Xandar chuckled as he ushered her to the ladder, groaning as he heard her complain more to him. Why did the woman have to be this way?
It would be much easier if she coddled him and sucked his dick like the majority of women he met, ”Yes, the oh so common story of eating poor innocent people to save his poor miserable life. Charming. Maybe I should have let him eat you too, I don’t get a thanks for keeping you alive anyways. It’s just expected of me now.”

Faeril’s wings rustled as she glared dangerously at Xandar. Why in the name of Mother Dark did she have to be around this irritable male?! Her lads were well mannered if a bit overbearing and Jandar proved to be a likeable enough fellow. ”I am hardly angry all the time. I’m merely surrounded by muscle bound fools, most of it!” A underhanded compliment that Faeril would deny giving. ”The face remains he was the first demon dead that I’ve seen! There were things that I could have learned from him about that-” She grasped for the word finding the phrase ‘phase of the Blood’ unnerving as their own death was carefully courting them. A wrong move could bring their little resistance to the end and broken on the orders of the Queens desperate to keep their power.

”Yes, and if it wasn’t for this muscle bound fool you’d be dead or worse. Or, at the very least, without wings or fingers.” He muttered, his blood steadily boiling as he rustled his own wings, spreading them out long and wide and flexing them out. It was a natural habit and a show of dominance when in a squabble, showing just how large the Eyrien really was. There were few people who could simply get on his nerves that he couldn’t easily intimidated or beaten to submission. She was a rare case. Beautiful, smart, and important to stay alive. And also a bitch. ”Well if you so whole-heartedly wanted to learn, maybe I should have let you get eaten and you could have asked him yourself while he feasted on your corpse. Maybe you could have found out first hand, huh? Speaking of death, I’m much more concerned by the death trap you sent our friends in than some science experiment, frankly.”

”It’s not a trap.” Though Faeril didn’t seem quite certain of her own words. ”It was something that the Queen must do. If we cannot convince him, then all is already lost. Besides, I can handle a rotting corpse well enough- I deal with you do I not?” She brushed away her own discomfort with a snipped insult towards Xandar.

”Oh bullshit, that it isn’t… His words stopped dead before he heard the words… convince him? He got seriously angry, practically wrapping his wings around the both of them as he stood up close to Faeril, looking down upon her. ”You mean to tell me you sent them out their to negotiate with HIM? Of ALL people? That isn’t a death trap, that’s a death sentence. He works for the worst Queen of them all, they’ll be killed in seconds, or worse. And you want him on our side? I half half a mind to fly there right now and level that whole city just to get them out…” Xandar grumbled, turning away from Faeril and grabbing a large wooden beam that was broken off. He split it with his bare hands, ripping it in half and launching the pieces into the opposite wall. Burn marks charred the broken pieces, and it was clear the Warlord Prince was getting a bit heated.

Faeril glowered and drew her wings in tight as Xandar went on his tirade. As much as she wanted to argue, she couldn’t exactly say he was wrong. But there were things at work that she couldn’t admit. After all, the oversized brute learning he had been wrapped into a spell to gather a Court about Fatima. ”It is necessary. I told you it is not our place to intervene in that meeting. The web drew her forth, and Fatima must make the choice. I know my Craft.” Growled the Black Widow defensively, feeling the undercurrent of anger off Xandar. An angry Warlord Prince wasn’t to be trifled with lightly. Her wings flaring wide as he turned about to take his frustration out on a rotting beam. ”The pieces are moving.”

The angry warlord prince took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down a bit and not let his anger out. After all, they were in hiding. If he did anything too rash he would surely attract some unwanted attention. But still, this was an impossible situation and there was nothing he could do but sit around and watch it all unfold. He wanted to be the one making changes, doing the work that needed to be done. He felt… powerless. ”This… this better work out, for your sake and for mine. If I sense so much as a bit of trouble I’m burning that village to the ground and nothing is going to stop me. As much as I hate and don’t trust the majority of them around my Queen, I’ll need to trust them, I suppose.”

Xandar brushed past Faeril as he took a standing leap all the way up the ladder, landing inside the house as he took a few steps out into the open. He saw a wandering viper rat and walked up to it, punting it several hundred feet into the distance and out of sight, surely rupturing all of its internal organs. ”I fucking hate rats.”

The softer beat of Faeril as she slipped from the open trapdoor and landed before the hearth of the house where the demon-dead had sought shelter. A bit of spellwork would go unnoticed, she figured. Hearing the death cry of a rat, she huffed an annoyed breath. The irritating, puffed up… Turning she gave Xandar a chiding look. ”The mighty Reaper hates rats… Lovely to know. And yes, you’ll need to trust us. We all have the same goal in the end. Save for your obsession for courting death.” What else would he call cuddling her in that damn bed? Or the constant battles he got into? So typical of a Eyrien Warlord Prince! His mother probably wanted to rip his wings off when he was a youth!

”Yes, the Reaper hates many things and wishes to slaughter even more. But one of the things the Reaper hates more than anything is stuck up, know-it-all, quick-witted women like you who walk around and just bitch up a storm. Bitch at me, bitch about this and that, bitch about the world. I fucking get it, and it’s old. I’ve lived a long life, and I obsess over death because it’s all I know. It’s been killed or be killed. Strength or weakness. You killed to live, you killed for what you believed in, all problems ended in violence. I don’t care how smart or wise someone is, if that man wants them did he’ll make it happen. True strength is what runs this world…” Xandar said very angrily before his tone softened, and he turned away towards the horizon. He bit his lips, thoughts and memories flooding his head before closing his eyes.

”This… isn’t the life I wanted. Not by a long shot. I just wanted a better world for my people. For all of us. And I had to be strong for them. For me. But now? I’ve been running, hiding, for years from the likes of them. And now I get a bit of hope, and the one man with a darker jewel than me is face to face with her? What am I supposed to feel? Relieved? At this rate it might be easier to live out the end of the world on an island like my comrades. A few moments of peace.”

Faeril studied Xandar and gave a sigh, moving to pat the taller Eyrien on the arm. ”No one wants the life of a rogue, except those deranged or mad or totally uncaring of the Blood’s honor.” The words were practiced and soothing from Faeril’s years of mending hearts and minds, but there was an awkward stilt to her words as the Black Widow continued. ”I bitch because I’ve wrapped myself in my own armor. Our years are harder and longer than the short-lived races and I envy them their lifespans in these troubled times. I watched the Queen’s decimate the Hourglass and my own family. No one wants to see what Dorothea has been doing. And so I dream and call and weave. I doubt that anyone wants to be Hyall’s whore either, to a bitch whose tastes are more than the Queens we have met.” Turning she walked back towards the ruins. ’And you forgot ‘outdated’ in your description of me.”

Xandar stiffened up at the pat but relaxed a bit, the heat released from his body as he listened. He knew she was right, everybody had all their problems with this Queen, all had hardships, and it would take all of them to do it. He couldn’t do everything on his own anymore. Trusting and relying on people is what got him hurt in the first place, but, maybe it’s what would heal him after all. Only time would tell, and he would just have to wait to see how this all panned out. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he walked next to her. ”Perhaps that’s true. But, maybe I’m a bit old fashioned myself.”

”Oh, really. I couldn’t tell.” Drawled Faeril as she paused before the hearth again, pulling a small square of wood and a ball of string from a pouch at her waist. ”Do you require something, or can I do this without interruption? I doubt I need to give you the lecture that I do not require an escort again.”

”Yeah, funny. The last time I believed that, it didn’t end so well.” Xandar dusted off a rogue chair that was somewhat intact and put it against the wall, sitting down with a huff as he pulled up the hood of his cloak. ”Look, I’ll just nap peacefully here while you go about your business. You won’t even know I’m here.” said the warlord Prince, before pulling up a sight shield and effectively disappearing from sight.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Xandar Markov

Location: Smuggler's den in town

Xandar has chased after the shadowy figure to see it had hidden itself away in what looked to be like a smugglers den of sorts. Figures. Shadowy people gravitate towards shadowy places. He had all but shattered the table that was once hiding the entrance, ripping it from where it was and tossing it out of the building with a loud crash. This is probably what led Faeril to follow him, possibly.

”Nosey, are we woman? Why don’t you help Gen or something? I’m busy with our guest.” Xandar grunted, resorting to jumping off the ladder and landing softly, aided by his wings, in fear the whole thing would break under his weight. He looked up and gave a low whistle. ”Great view, but you may want to watch your step. It seems you’ve ripped your dress. Which actually may be a blessing in disguise, you were in need of new ones.”

Xandar turned towards the rest of the room, scanning the various crates and boxes, looking at the fresh dust where the figure stepped. He summoned his sword, clenching it in his right hand. “If you make me search this place, you won’t like the end result when I find you. It’d be best to give yourself up now. Or, better yet, I can burn the whole place to ashes along with you.”

Faeril was less than pleased at the Warlord Prince’s retort. ”Enjoy the view, it’s the only one you’ll get.” Snapped the witch, coloring at her own thoughtlessness. Peering through the darkness, she wondered how on earth he could even see. Her wings folding tightly to her back in the narrow basement, never mind her own workroom beneath her house was not much larger. ”And my clothes are perfectly fine! Perhaps I am not so enthralled by those cumbersome wing slits they cut into fashions now.” She muttered in their shared native language as she wrested with the snared fabric lest the dress tear beyond repair.

There was a slight rasping of a dry throat as a rusty voice echoed through the dark. “Give myself up to what? A Queen’s pleasure? She had her pleasure. I doubt she could take more.” There was a bitterness to the voice. ”Please, just leave me be.”

”Wing slits are very fashionable! And work very effective. Although I usually wear nothing at all.” he murmured back in the same tongue, before looking over towards the voice that called out in the darkness. Xander rest the blade on his shoulder, casting his gaze where the voice came from.

”There is no Queen here, only a Queen Killer. You are within the vicinity of me and my party, therefore I have come to investigate. Nothing else is here besides us and the viper rats, and they don’t make very good company.”

Xandar summoned a bit of fire in his hand, lighting up the area around him as his eyes adjusted to the light, making it easier for both himself and Faeril to see. Mostly her, as his eyes were very keen to the dark, having gone through long nights of pure darkness in combat. ”State your business, and if you have none, I suggest you find yourself somewhere else to hide far away from here.

”And where else can the dead go?” Growled the voice, the fire lighting up the room enough that Xandar could see the corpse. A Shalador man it seemed, wearing the Purple-Dusk. One leg was missing at the thigh, his hands were seared as though put through an inferno as well as most of his left side. HIs face, however, was covered in a hood, a blessing perhaps. The voice issued from beneath it and the gaping hole in his chest which the ragged shirt didn’t quite hide.

”What is it? Can you see who it is?” Hissed Faeril from behind Xandar, the bulk of the Eyrien warrior blocking the way as she hovered behind him. Eager to find out who their watcher was and if there was any potential damage meant to their little group. Blissfully unaware of the twisted remains that spoke to them. Xandar might recall the creeping tales of his youth about the demon-dead. Those of the Blood who lived on after death, feeding on the living. Devouring them. Of course, it was an effective tale to spin to a group of children on a late-night to warn them to be good. ”Must I do everything myself?!”

”The dead belong six feet under, but here you are. A dead man walking. Now give me a good reason why I shouldn’t personally escort you to the grave.” Xandar growled back, cautiously watching the purple-dusk demon dead. He was an ugly son of a bitch, and tales of these demon dead did not speak of them kindly. But either way, he wouldn’t wander all the way here for nothing.

He looked back at Faeril, stepping to the side slightly but still well standing between her and the Shalador man slumped on the ground. His sword was still kept firmly in one hand, pointing at the man, the other holding the fire. ”You may look for yourself, if you like, but you’re not going any farther than my sword. What do you make of our guest?”

Faeril glared at Xandar as he stipulated that she wasn't get closer than his sword to the burned demoan-dead. "I make that he was burned and staked through the chest. Really, what am I supposed to tell you with this lighting and at a distance." Despite her sharp words, Faeril made no move to get closer, her eyes slightly wide as she gazed upon the man.

Rasping, the demon spoke once more. But it was forlorn, tired almost. "What grave? This entire town is filled with the dead. No, not like me. They stayed dead. The Queen and her brat broken them down and slaughtered them for fun." Faeril winced, as those thoughts conjured an imagination of what the stone and wood might show her if she drew out their memories.

Xandar pauses for a moment, listening to the words of the man before vanishing his sword. However, his arm was still protectively covering Faeril. He didn’t think the man could do much or get far in his condition, but he wasn’t going to let his guard down completely. He didn’t know much about his kind, and the stuff he did hear about was bad. However, he would give him the benefit of the doubt. Any person who was wronged by an evil queen had at least a little sympathy from the Reaper.

”Fair enough. I’ve seen many places like this, shattered and broken by a Queen. Instead of making the land prosper they now burn it for their amusement. I’ve lived my life to fight against them… So if what you say is true, we have a common enemy it seems.”

The Eyrien Warlord Prince looked back at Faeril, rolling his eyes at her comment before looking back at the dead man. ”The fact still stands that you, despite the others, are among the living and have not stayed dead. This leads me to believe you have a purpose for it then? Maybe a grudge, if you will.”

”Oh, I got a grudge. Not that I can do much about it.” Rasped the demon, sounding forlorn and bitter. Faeril still glowered at the Warlord Prince for the arm in her way, though she was oddly grateful for it. As a Black Widow she was part of the Hourglass Coven, which had essentially gone underground if they wished to remain free of the twisted Queen. Mothers teaching daughters their Craft lest it be forgotten. Yet lines would fail and die out. Coven growing smaller. Their knowledge was vast, but they only had a limited time. Though she remembered a bit more about the blood she might offer, she kept her silence. Unsure if she wanted to offer something that might cause the demon to attack her. ”The dead aren’t staying about for a grudge. I’ve been along for some decade… I can feel my jewel running low, and ‘fore long it’ll run dry. Think that might as well be my Death.” The man mused raising a twisted hand to push back the cowl and reveal a face that had been melted by flames and a missing ear that had been cut off. ”Killed some as didn’t need killing. For the blood. A woman hiding out here. I shouldn’t have, but I was desperate. I didn’t want to go yet and I was foolish enough to think I might do something to stop those bitches.”

Xandar shook his head, realizing at least part of the rumors were true. The dead did feed off of the living to last a bit longer, but it seemed they weren’t as blood crazed as he thought. Even still, he couldn’t fault the man. He had killed dozens, hundreds, for worse reasons. ”Well in your state I don’t think you’ll be getting any revenge, no. But, revenge is more or less my speciality, and killing twisted Queens and their following is my calling in life.” Xandar looked the man in his hollowed face, taking his arm away from Faeril and crossing it over his chest, his fist on his heart. ”If you have anything useful to share, you can rest easy knowing the Queen that wronged you has a swift death coming.”

”We cannot risk discovery!” Hissed the Black Widow, her eyes narrowing in the dark. ”Killing the Queen of this place is not an option!” It would potentially put their own Queen at risk and she couldn’t do that.

”Did I say right now? No. Quit your bickering woman.” Xandar looked back at the Widow, patting her head with his hand. ”But, is it not our long term goal? To make things right? And even so, we could at least get information that might be useful to us if you play along here.” He said that last bit in their shared tongue, before turning back to the very grotesque looking man on the ground.

”Dead men usually tell no tales, but if you do, I’ll be glad to listen.”

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Xandar Markov

Location: Next to Faeril and Fatima, on the outskirts of the buildings

Xandar nodded at Faeril's answer, seeing as though it was meant to be a surprise to those venturing into the town, as Faeril had seen it in her web that they were meant to go there.

While it pained him to let the others walk into... him... it seemed it was out of his control, for interfering with a widow's web was more trouble than he needed in his life. Maybe it just happened to be a coincidence and the black jeweled monster would just pass by. But that was much too hopeful. All he could do was sit around and wait for whatever was going to happen.

That was the part that bothered him the most, knowing that there was nothing he could do, being powerless to the events around him.

His attention peaked when he saw Fatima skip over, talking some kind of nonsense about the ugliest woman in all the land. Xandar chuckled, shaking his head as the two got tense, Faeril now asking aloud what he meant by the intruder. Fatima slowly started backing up into him, also wondering what was going on.

Well, so much for a surprise. That thing definitely knows they spotted it now.

"You know, for the party. We're getting all dressed up now, we should be expecting some company." Xandar said lightly, brushing past Fatima, patting her head.

"Oh don't worry, if you want her to do that for you, all you need to do is wear her clothes. That'll do the trick." He jest, knowing he was likely to get a smack to the back of the head eventually.

He stepped closer towards the shadows, readying a summon for his sword as he quite casually walked towards the shadows where the creature was skulking.

"I'm just going to go for a little walk."

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Xandar Markov

Location: Carriage

Xandar overheard the conversation going on with his Queen and Jandar, and he just let out a sigh as he closed his eyes and gauged the situation. As he had experienced from earlier, when Fatima had something on her mind, there was very little that was going to stop her and get in her way. Even if Jandar or Xandar pleaded with her and tried to force her to stay, what would that accomplish? She was a darker jewel, she could hold her own, and well she wouldn't necessarily be alone. If the Queen was going to rule well she would need to make her own decisions, her own mistakes, and learn from them. There was just some things he couldn't protect her from, as much as he wanted to shelter her. Keeping her from the world would just put her in more danger in the long run.

It seemed the two of them were going to discuss the plan with the rest, and as he saw Mikhail walk over to the two brothers, the Prince walked himself over next to him, not looking on him as his gaze watched Faeril start to walk off. "Look, I know you're back and forth on this one. I think you should go. Your... skills would be best used out on the field, with them. It's much dangerous in town then cooped up here with some rats."

After he had said this, he caught an interesting shadow peeking out from the direction Faeril waswalking too. It was certainly larger than one of those rats, and he had a bad feeling they would have company. He searched a bit to try to get a reading from it, but all he could sense was death, a scent he knew all too well. Whatever it was, it wasn't good. Reaching out a bit more into his search, he almost froze when he sensed a very, very dark force in the direction of the town the other half of the group was heading towards. There was only one man who let off a power that dark.

"I'll make sure Faeril stays safe... you just make sure my Queen comes back in one piece. If you need me, you know where to find me."

Instead of conversing with the rest of the group, he made his way to the Widow, lagging about a few feet behind. He sent a message to her telepathically, not wanting the attention of the rest of the group in their conversation. Things just weren't looking up it seemed.

"Mind if I join you in your stroll? I have something... very urgent that I'd like to discuss with you, concerning a man with a black jewel. I'm sure you can sense him too. Also, on the more immediate matters, I think we might have some company. I'd watch where you're going if I were you.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Xandar Markov

Location: Rat Nest-> Carriage

Satisfied with his work, Xandar turned around to join the rest of the group. He was sure there would be more of those viper rats around, but taking care of that nest was the main problem. Either they would run away with their tail between their legs, or they would group up, making them much easier to wipe out in one shot. At least it would be more exciting than sitting around the carriage all day.

He took a long drag of his cigarette, slowly blowing it out of his nose as he walked back to the group. It seemed the lot of them were having a conversation, it seemed some of them would be going into town to do some investigating, and Xandar knew right away one of those people would not be him. After all, Xandar was not one who could easily hide among a crowd. Besides, that wasn't very much his preferred style anyhow.

Well, that sounds all fine and dandy. I guess I'll just sit around and kick rocks while you guys go on vacation in town. I already burned down a whole nest of those Viper Rats, the little bastards. That could only amuse me for so long though, they die so quickly." Xandar sighed, taking the last drag of his cigarette before burning it into ashes and crushing it, letting the ashes carry themselves in the air. "If things get too dreadfully boring around here I may go on a walk, so if you need anything now speak up."

Xandar yawned and stretched, leaning himself up to the side of the carriage, open and facing the rest of the group as he crossed his arms, looking about at the scenery. He would pay just enough attention to the conversation to get the gist of it, unless specifically addressed, but most of the time he would spent zoned out as his mind wandered to what they could potentially coming up on in the future. Hanging around characters like these, nothing every seemed dull for too long.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Xandar Markov

Location: Carriage-> Main building -> Rat Nest

Xandar had payed little attention to his surroundings while they were traveling, simply keeping to himself or sleeping for most of the ride. Most of the few days between the events that happened and today had been a blur, he helped pack up for the trip, trained, and slept pretty much the entire time. That fight had left him pretty exhausted, considering he was nursing an injury. And while it was getting better, he still didn't feel 100 percent. Still, he was plenty healthy to take on whatever they would stumble by on their journey. Or, at least, he hoped, otherwise this would be much more dire than he thought.

Immediately upon stopping Xandar hopped out and went about to explore the town, not really trying to engage in conversation with the others. It wasn't important to him either way, and right now he needed to stretch his legs and try to find something to do. Keeping an Eyrien cooped up for hours, let alone days, was a tragedy waiting to happen. He was sure his job would just be to protect the others, as it always seemed to be, given his title anyways. Although at the current moment he didn't sense anybody near them, so this play would be relatively safe. However, there seemed to be an infestation of vermin, the poison kind, and this would be a great opportunity to blow off some steam and keep the others safe.

After a bit of wandering around he approached a manor that reeked of death, and he knew immediately that this would be the place. It seemed whatever had happened in this town, this is where all these witches were killed. And those rat bastards most likely were holed up somewhere here, and with a bit of digging around his suspicions were confirmed. Upon reaching the cellar he lit his hand with witchfire, shining a bit of light on the subject to see a mass pile of bones, human or otherwise. Yup, this was most certainly the place. These things were a plague to the land, they helped nobody and spread disease and death wherever they went, feeding off of it. No purpose, except to be a burden. He would feel no remorse burning them all alive.

After sending quite a bit of witchfire directly into the nest, the whole nest lit up like an inferno, bathing the cellar in light as the flames ate away at everything in it's path. Xandar immediately threw up a shield around the nest, controlling the flames, but more importantly, to keep the rats in. He knew shortly they would be trying to escape and see who was burning down their nest, and sure enough, dozens of those things started throwing themselves against his shield. They seemed more determined than he originally thought, and added some more strength to the shield, ensuring it wouldn't break.

He lit a cigarette, taking a long drag of it as he watched the flames run rampant, melting flesh and bone off the creatures in seconds. It was a thrill, watching these things die by his hands, chaotic flames being such a destructive force. It was also beautful in a sense, the way it moved, the heat it gave off, the light it produced. Beautiful and deadly, the way to an Eyrien man's heart it seemed. He figured this would get rid of most of them, although there were probably a few stragglers outside the nest. Hopefully they would run off after seeing what happened to their nest, but if he had to go hunt down a few more it would give him something to do. Hunting animals for sport filled the time, however, nothing was a thrilling as taking a person's life, watching it fade from their eyes. These beasts were meaningless to him, and after watching the flames for a bit he turned around on his way to exit the manor.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Xandar Markov

Location: Nearby woods-> Cliffside -> Front yard

Xandar finished the swing of his Ax as he propped the shaft on his shoulder, turning to face Randalvar. He had almost all the wood chopped already, and he slightly tilted his head at seeing Randalvar all battle ready. ”Well you aren’t wrong, there was indeed a fight, but you are very late to the party. I had all the fun myself it seems, left a whole army dead or demoralized up there.” The warlord prince said this with the utmost casual tone as he starting gathering firewood and vanishing it. ”And before you ask there were no casualties on our part, just some scrapes and bruises. More hurt egos than hurt bodies. But, you might want to know that one of those people in your village was the one who informed the Queen of our whereabouts.”

The grizzled warlord growled deep in his throat as Xandar insulted the village, Aren. "We wouldn't betray the Black Widow, she's done a damn bit for our village." But there was some doubt in Randalvar's golden eyes. It was his worst nightmare that one of the villagers had turned on the Healer who had done so much for them, but it was viable. Times were only getting harder and people were desperate. "I can vouch for every damn person who entered my tavern today. Hell's fire, Mother Night and May the Darkness be merciful. How is Lady Ashkevron?"

Xandar shrugged, swinging his Ax down on some of the remaining chunks of wood that left to be cut. He wiped the sweat off his brow, focusing his attention on the fallen tree. ”As much as you trust you people, I’m no stranger to being stabbed in the back. There was a note on one of those soldiers with the location of the Eyrie and detailing the presence of both The Widow and myself. The only people with that information are the people in the village or up there, unless you suspect one of them to be a traitor.”

Xandar vanished the rest of the wood and the Ax, brushing the saw dust off of his hands as he turned himself towards the older Eyrien. ”Alive, thanks in part to me on two separate occasions. They planned on cutting off her snake tooth finger and her wings before kidnapping her, but I put a stop to all that. She got a few cuts and bruises, drained herself a bit, but she’s resting now. She’ll be back to normal soon.”

There was a gruff chuckle of relief, though it did not reach the old Eyrien's eyes. "That's going to scrape her pride, not to mention her temper. No Ashkevron woman wants to have to rely on a senseless man. Especially when they've done something as stupid and drain themselves worrying over nothing." Vanishing a few of the wedges of firewood himself, the warlord set about helping Xandar. "I don't doubt someone betrayed someone, but- well, shit. Means we have to start looking at our own and that's never a decent thing. I take it, we best expect to do that without the Widow able to check if the party is guilty?"

"It's always a struggle looking within, as it could really cause some tension. We'll need to go about this carefully. There are a few of them interrogating some of the prisoners of war I had acquired. That might lead to some information, but I'm pretty sure the sadistic bastard is just entertaining himself." Xandar cut the remaining pieces of firewood, nodding as Randalvar offered his own help. "Oh the Widow will be fine, I'm sure, she can bitch all she wants. As far as her abilities we'll have to go without them for now, I don't need her draining herself needlessly again. We'll need her strength. We've started making arrangements to leave, though to where I have no idea."

The Eyrien and sighed Vanishing more wood. "Well, good luck with that. Her Aunt and her Mother were both prone to draining more power than was reasonable. To be sure, they were excellent witches! But damn if they didn't drive a man to madness- and not the permanent kind." He grumbled, remembering those times all too well. "Just wear a cod piece, when you tell her that." Advised the old warlord with a maniac grin that screamed 'better you than me'. His face turned serious as the Reaper spoke of leaving and not knowing where to. "Well you can't stay in Askavi, that's for damn certain. Wouldn't go towards Hyall or Dhemlan either. I'd say head west til you got a good idea of what to do."

"This'll have to be cod piece enough, I'm sure she'll leave them alone as she might want to use them herself." The Ebon-Grey teased, stretching his shoulders and giving a large flap with his wings, seeing as all the wood has been vanished and ready to be transported. "Well that's not much different than what I was doing. We can discuss that with the rest if you'd like to come with me. I'm using this firewood to help with a funeral pyre. There actual was one casualty, the one older gentleman with the Queen. I was impartial to his death, as I do not know how it happened, and also he tried to kill Faeril. But Fatima seemed to care for him so the least he deserves is a proper burial."

"Hmph," The Eyrien Warrior grunted, choosing to ignore the jab that Faeril might find the Reaper interesting. "You are serving this Queen now? Didn't think I'd see the day." Joining the Reaper in his ascent up the cliff, Randalvar hesitated for a minute before speaking up in a warning. "Be careful with that offer if you mean to tease the Widow, Prince. This entire Realm has scars."

"Well considering the pull towards her, and the fact that she seemed like the only decent one with good morals I've met in hundreds of years, I'd say so. It's actually nice having a Queen to serve after so long. The rogue life wasn't ideal, and it wasn't preferred, but it's what had to be done. But I really think now we can make a difference." Xandar chuckled at the comment towards him, reaching the top of the Eyrie as he calmly landed. "I'm always careful Randalvar, but I can't say much on that subject. I'm not so sure myself, and she doesn't make it any easier on me.

There was a soft chuckle. "No Ashkevron makes it easy."