[center][color=crimson][h2]Xandar Markov[/h2][/color][/center]

[color=crimson][center]Location: Ashkevron residence, front yard[/center][/color]

It seemed everything had calmed down a bit, and though there was much internal conflict within himself, Xandar kept that to himself. He would have to found an outlet for his anger that wasn't the people around him. Normally he would not feel any kind of restraint and happily berate the others around him for his own amusement, but the urge he felt for his Queen held him in check. After all, controlled rage was much more deadly than a wild one. 

After much of the group carried on their conversation, the warlord prince was spacing out a bit, thinking to himself about the future ahead. There was a lot of uncertainty surrounding the group, and Xandar couldn't trust half of them much farther than he could throw them. And he could throw them pretty far if he wanted to. But, he trusted Faeril and Fatima to an extent, and by extension that meant he had to be okay with who they trusted. Although it was almost nice, being a part of something bigger and having a purpose. All these years he fought as a rogue for his cause, for his beliefs, for his people... but in the end it just felt selfish. He had put many lives at stake fighting for a cause that was good but also lost. He might have been able to save their lives, maybe just waited. But he knew that wasn't his style or nature, but now that he had a Queen who stood for the values he stood for, he had confidence that his movement might have some strength to it now. Maybe soon others would think more of him after hearing his name.

He seemed to snap back into attention when Fatima mentioned something about dead bodies, and he looked over his shoulder at the cliff where he had chucked the bodies off of. He gave a low whistle, rubbing his neck. [color=crimson]"Yeah... about that. They're not necessarily [i]gone[/i] just, well, relocated. And don't look quite right anymore if we're being honest here. But if you insist I can bring them back here, along with some firewood for the ceremony. I'd much rather that than go through that house."[/color]

The Ebon-Grey vanished his clothes, wearing nothing more than a loincloth as he summoned a large ax into his right hand, hefting it as he let the wight of it rest on his broad shoulder. The man stifled a yawn, running a hand through his long hair and brushing it out of his face. He had been meaning to cut it shorter, but he hadn't really had the time as of late. It seemed there was a lot of cutting to be done tonight. 

[color=crimson]"I shouldn't be gone long. Unless there is anything else you need of me I'll be making my descent to the forest below."[/color]