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[h1][color=bc8dbf]Lord Cuwarr Naxremis[/color][/h1]

Husband of [color=82ca9d]Sorici[/color] ([@RomanAria]), his white lotus, and [color=f7941d]Kalani[/color] ([@karamonnom]), his auburn rose.

[hider=Summary]

Cuwarr awakens and discovers a murder scene but pays no real attention to it.  He returns to his wives before piecing the information together, fully declaring that he would protect them.[/hider]

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With his wives snuggled beside him, Cuwarr took a moment to relapse.  Just a few hours ago, he was shooting down some rebels-- spilling blood.  But, now, he laid beside two of the most alluring gems he had ever laid his eyes upon.  As he heard their breathing slow down, signalling that they were now asleep, the warlord stole some glances at them.  Beautiful?  Attractive?  No.  Divine.  Before he gave up his consciousness to the much awaited abyss of rest, Cuwarr pulled them flush against him until Kalani's head rested at the soft of his neck and collarbone and Sorici slumbered on his chest.  His arms snaked themselves around their curvaceous waist as he breathed out a sigh of contentment.  If anyone saw the drakken now, they would clearly think him delirious for being too obviously happy at the presence of two insignificant gems cuddling against him.  A goofy smile that stretched across his lips signalled the giddy spirals of emotions churning inside him.  It's been too long, far too long since he had felt the authentic warmth of another beside his.  Specifically, it has been fifty years.  After all, it was his mother who comforted the drakken after his young body was subjected to the wounds of training.  And, even if Cuwarr swore that a part of him was lost to the aether after Stezius desecrated the Naxremis name, perhaps, the parts which he were riven lived inside these two gems near him-- to be with them is to be whole again.  At least, that's what his mother used to say.

Then, reality spun out of focus as his eyes gave in to the fatigue of the day.  His body, wounded and bruised, might have been exhausted but his heart and mind have never been this happy since he lost his mother centuries ago.

---

In the blink of an eye, morning had already came.  Cuwarr had already awakened for the day as he finished bathing himself clean.  The warlord sat on a stool in front of the window as he began to wear the pieces of his armour.  With deft movements, he slipped his hands through the gauntlets and arm guards, securing them to his arms.  His greaves and chainmail as well as plate mails were next as he, once again, tied the piece of cloth around his eyes.  Cuwarr combed his hair with his hands, avoiding his horns as his golden locks were slicked back.  Finally done with his attire, Cuwarr hoisted his longbow from the stand before slinging the quiver over his right shoulder.

Cuwarr strode out of his room, noticing a slight chill in the air and, probably, a sanguine scent.  The stench of blood emanated from a room a few blocks away from his.  Notching an arrow upon his recurve, Cuwarr swept his gaze side to side, wary of any sign of an assailant.  With footsteps as silent as a lion on a prowl, Cuwarr reached the room, kicking it open in one fell swoop before aiming his bow at the area.  There was none... except the crimson trail that led to the shower.  The drakken was not new to the sight of blood, but there was something about the murder that made him conclude that this was not the work of his kin.  The dead bloke was sprawled on the floor, horns and eyes cut from their places.  There was also something graceful about the way the drakken was slain: there was purpose to this murder other than just pure bloodlust.

"Not that I care, but..."  Cuwarr tilted his head in wonder as he grinned.  He had no intention of reporting this event.  If anything, this slain drakken was one of his critiques, and a death such as this was fitting for a swine.  "Who knew that there were other races capable of this artwork."  Gems were the least of his suspicions; they wouldn't even hurt a fly that was stinging them.  If anything, these were the rebels that the drakkens had slain from afar.  Or, the forces that they repelled from Gemminia.  "Rest in pieces, swine."

The warlord closed the door before sauntering off to the dining area.  He noted the different viands and treats before grabbing a few bread rolls and heading back to his room.  He placed the bread rolls on a wide plate, setting it down on a nearby dresser.  As he looked at his wives, he remembered how the slain drakken's wives were nowhere to be found.  So, whoever killed the drakken also took the wife.  If this was a mere squabble between two drakken lords, the murder scene could not have been that messy.  It would have been a quick strike that decapitated.  But, the mere fact that the horns were cut, the eyes were pierced, and overall, the body was ruined...  would mean that the killer hated the drakkens and sought to liberate the wives.  So, were the killers...  gems?

"N-no,"  Cuwarr mumbled.  "Unlikely."  A pattern had to be seen before he could conclude anything.  Even up to now, the gemminites never ceased to pique his interest.

As he swept those problems to the back of his mind, Cuwarr set the plate down as he sat on the bed, smiling at how his wives slept peacefully.  A strange, humming sensation filled him; an odd urge to protect these fragile creatures.  "I pity the poor soul who would dare hurt the two of you."  Cuwarr whispered under his breath before taking a breadroll and softly biting down on it.