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Xandar Markov


Ashkevron residence in Aren, Askavi. Front Parlor.


What in the bloody hell was going on? It seemed that with Dareen person was some sort of mercenary, maybe hunting down Black Widows? Honestly he was half paying attention to the conversation and dosing off, but he could tell that the room was pretty tense and that Faeril seemed quite pissed off. Poor woman, she seemed pretty tired to be running some kind of interrogation. Although Dareen was crying, thinking she was dying, blubbering on and apologizing. She had no honor, no pride, just a bumbling fool who was clinging to life one minute and tossing it out the window the next. She was scared and confused and no idea what she was doing. Was this some elaborate ruse to hunt down Xandar or Faeril? Quite unlikely, given her power level. A spy? Doubtful. Was she just really trying to find answers, here of all places, about the Queens?

Well, best case scenario, she would see the world as Xandar saw it. The Queens, twisted and corrupted, taking what they wanted, when they wanted, and not a second sooner. They didn't care whom they hurt or what they had to do to get it. Even if that meant they wanted people, like himself. Many had died, even his own brothers in arms, trying to capture Xandar. Defending himself from capture and trying to make assaults on the Queens, he has taken countless lives. These deaths have spread rumor to his name, not pointing him out as a victim, a hero, a person to stand by, but a name to be feared as a rogue menace. The bounty on his head was high, and people clung to the Queen for "protection" against people like him, but only the opposite could be true. Xandar was just fighting for his home land, his people, and nothing was going to stop him from his goal.

Besides, well, maybe a nap. After a few short minutes Xandar fell asleep sprawled out on his seat, clearly exhausted from the long day while also being bored out of his mind despite the tense situation. It didn't effect him any whether she lived or died, so he had nothing to offer, and his mind drifted off to dreams of better times.
Xandar Markov


Ashkevron residence in Aren, Askavi. Front Parlor.


Xandar sighed and stretched a bit as he saw Faeril exit the room, seemingly going to attend to the chatter down the hall. His mind still raced as the thoughts and feelings of the last few minutes swirled in his head. The talks of a storm coming to the blood and whether he would be accepted confused him a bit, but he shook his head He knew that Widows had visions sometimes, but worrying about them now wouldn't change much. For right now, he just needed some rest and get rid of this headache.He would be staying there for at least a few days it seemed.

He made sure his tunic covered his bandaging well, making it hardly noticeable as he wandered down the hall and into the front parlor. It seemed there was quite the commotion, and from what he could tell Dareen was the center of it. He heard something along the lines of dying blah blah blah, being guilty, this and that. He could only assume Faeril was going to check over her mind like she did his to figure out her true intentions. Honestly he could care less about the woman, and if she died? Maybe it would be easier. There would sure be a hell of a lot less sarcasm and complaining coming out of her disrespectful opening she called a mouth. If Faeril didn't kill her, he was certainly tempted. It would make things a lot easier for all parties involved, he didn't even know why these people would bother with a yellow jeweled witch like this. He wasn't even going to begin to speculate on the other Eyriens or Mikhail, gods only knew what their major malfunctions were, although he had a few guesses. It seemed even Mikhail was interjecting and defending the woman, which was odd, as far as he was concerned the two hadn't ever met each other. It wasn't as much supportive as saying "You'll be fine", but the fact he was even talking to the Witch was something in of itself. Still, he wasn't overly concerned with Mikhail either, and the brooding man could bicker all he wanted among the other two Eyriens about this and that. The assassin worried more than a mother letting her child play with a sword.

Xandar decided to sit down on one of the chairs, casually, quietly, and yawn as he layed back and closed his eyes, putting his hands behind his head. Xandar even chuckled a bit before yawning, getting himself comfortable. He seemed as if he didn't have a care in the world, and he felt it was beneath him to speak to Dareen about the matter. He was going to say something witty but he hadn't the energy, he would simply let things play out and not give any party the satisfaction. The whole ordeal was trivial, even quite comical, a simple procedure blown way out of proportion and emotions being riled up when nodding your head and listening to your superior would be simple and easy. This didn't require an entire group discussion. Xandar certainly didn't need to speak either. He got what he needed, and now he would respect Faeril and lay low for a bit until needed until he was in better shape to go off and attend to his own agenda.
As you can see from the title, I have been in the mood to do a Dragon Ball roleplay for quite some time, and have been a fan of the show for many years. I have spent some time brainstorming ideas for a potential plot and how to structure this roleplay, and I have several example plots for roleplay on my computer. I will be posting one of these examples below, but I want to specify something ahead of time. Since this is a fandom, obviously a lot of material as far as the world building is already done, but it is my priority to create a story that both of us can enjoy. Some people may have preferences as far as where in the timeline we start, if there will be OC or canon characters, power scaling, etc. I will have my preferences and will clearly describe them, but I am open for debate and I just want to make the best possible experience for the both of us.

Alright, now that the disclaimer is out of the way, here are my preferences for this roleplay:

- High Casual roleplay up to Low Advanced
I have been roleplaying for several years and I have plenty of experience, and I'm comfortable with a high casual to low advanced writing style. I will accommodate, and overall the length of replies will depend on the context, but I generally can write at least 2-3 paragraphs at minimum. I also require proper grammar and spelling to go along with this format. I'm not super anal about things, but I at least want to understand what you're writing most of the time.

- Semi-frequent posting
I know people get busy and so do I, and I can be flexible with different schedules. However, a general rule I try to keep is posting once a week. This is just a guideline, and if we are both free, it could be several posts in a week or multiple in a day. However, once a week is a minimum. If you would need an extension I am happy to comply, just let me know ahead of time. I will also be following to these rules.

- Original characters (OC)
I really enjoy being creative and making my own characters, so I would prefer that we use OCs, at least for our own characters. Personally it's hard to truly bring justice to a character that is not my own creation, and I like the idea of seeing my own character in a world I love. There can be canon characters in the roleplay, but it is my preference that we incorporate OCs in the roleplay. If you're interested, we can discuss this further.

- Original plot idea
Now it is very hard to be "truly" original, and I'm not expecting a masterpiece, but I want to have some creativity for the events that are going to happen in the roleplay. If I wanted to see the same plot events happen again I would just re-watch the series. This isn't to say that we can't use events that happen canonically for our roleplay, but I want most of what happens to be created by the two of us. Whether this means we change the existing events and alter them, or we make entirely new plot points, or even make our own timeline set in the same universe, I enjoy writing a story.

- 18+
I am 20 myself and I prefer my roleplaying partner to be 18 or older themselves. I do enjoy adult themed content as it is more realistic (and I think an 18+ Dragon Ball series would be badass) and it gives us less restrictions writing. This does not mean we have to get into things like smut or something equally or more hardcore, although I'm open to discussion for it or anything else you bring to the table.

- War and Love
I want to talk about what kind of roleplaying I like to do. Obviously with the nature of Dragon Ball there is lots of fighting and is the the backbone of the franchise, with flashy named moves and special effects. I am not requiring that 100 percent of the roleplay be fighting, but it would be an important element in the roleplay. I also do like developing character, so I am a fan of romance in roleplays, as well as having good character building and world building. I am open to discussion on what themes you would like, but fighting and romance are two very hot topics that adds that spice that we love in pop culture.

- You
Yes this is my interest check, but I want to be partners in this and split things half way. I want to know your input and work with you to find the best possible choice for the both of us. The fun of roleplaying is writing with somebody else, and if I'm doing most of the writing myself, I'd rather just try to write a book and make some money off of this hobby. The same goes for you, as I will try to provide new and interesting content that we can both enjoy.

That sums up most of what I'm looking for in general for this roleplay, and really any roleplay I do. Now here's what you came here for, the actual Dragon Ball content. Here is an example plot that I have typed up, and I will write a brief summary here. Keep in mind, this is NOT what we have to do, it is just an idea I have made as a starting point. If you have your own idea, you don't like it, or you would like to make a plot together, let me know. I really just wrote this up because nobody would show interest if I had no ideas.

Setting is one of the universes not in the tournament of power. A new race had been developed called the Empyrian race, a genetically superior race that was born with the ability to use God Ki. Very powerful, had inner planetary war and had two sub groups, the Sun Empyrians and the Shadow Empyrians. Sun had fair skin blue eyes and black hair with white wings, Shadow had dark red skin, black hair, black eyes, and black wings. Their hair and pretty much everything else was the same besides these factors, and that's because the Sun Empyrians chose the overworld while the Shadow Empyrians chose to live on the dark side of the planet. The way the planet was tilted half of the world was completely dark and the other had sun indefinitely, and their bodies adapted to this.

However these Empyrians were dangerous and getting out of hand, and looked to conquer other planets as they ran out of space on their own. With their immense control over godly ki it was feared that this race could take over the universe and others, as no other universe had developed this race. However there was inner turmoil among these two faction, the Suns and the Shadows, and they went to war. This lead to the destruction of their planet, and nearly all of their people had gone extinct.

Fast forward thousands of years later and there was a terribly evil being sought on conquering the universe, slowly going planet by planet with a power that was unheard of. It was a Shadow Empyrian, a member of the forgotten and extinct race set on destroying the universe and all the gods that destroyed his people. The world has been peaceful for quite some time and with all the other chaos going on the gods could not be directly involved in this matter, and little did they care as long as their own thrones were not being challenged, and so far it wasn't. The Empyrian had assembled an army bent on taking over the universe, and there were little warriors in this time of peace.

This is where the story begins, and warriors from all over the universe had been gathered to train and fight against this army, and this army went by the name of The New Order. Our story will begin on Earth.


Please note this is just a rough summary of an idea I have created, it is not final, nor is it required. I would much prefer if we both made a plot together that we both enjoyed, but this is to just get an idea out there.

Alright, that's it for the interest check. Feel free to PM me or leave a comment down below and tell me if you're interested. I'll be happy to answer any questions, comments, concerns, delusions, or dilemmas. Also if you have any other RP ideas not DBZ or want to start a group DBZ roleplay, also let me know. Thanks for reading.
Xandar Markov
&
Faeril Ashkevron


Location - Faeril's Workroom, Ashkevron residence in Aren, Askavi


Over and over again, this black widow insisted on calling him a fool. Did she have some kind of complex? Many of these kinds of people did, and at the very least she was at least in the position to talk in such a way to him. It seemed like she was one of those backhanded healers, always for a price. Not out of the kindness of her heart, but to gain something. Maybe that's why she had that fellow with her that seemed to stalk her around the house. The one that stared at everybody coldly and didn't say much. He was a prick, but it seemed he too was in debt to this Faeril.

"Yes, I'm well aware people who practice your craft are outlawed, but so am I, so what good does it for me to have any negativity towards that fact? I much more care about your sour tone with me than whatever you do in your spare time" Xandar groaned, letting out a slow breath as he felt the wound close. "Look, I don't need you to be sweet and pamper me, but good lord I at least wish to be civil through this business transaction. You heal me, I repay your services, and I'm on my way. You'll never have to see me again. If that requires some pain and suffering on my part so be it, but I have much more important matters than causing trouble at your estate."

"Civil." Faeril scoffed with rustle from her wings. "I am quite civil considering you may be drawing the hunters to my doorstep, but that is neither here nor there. I am more than capable with handling upstarts." Though her tone was sharp per the usual, her hands were study and didn't offer more pain than they needed to in order to get the job done properly. Though she was thoroughly fed up with the comments from the gallery, Faeril's voice pitched a few notes higher as her cold blue eyes widened with false innocence and adoration. "But if you are so desperate for a sweet tempered healer... Do tell me how you got all these hideous battle scars for being such a utter fool."

Dropping the mocking voice the Healer sniffed in indignation. "I am not going to hold your hand and flatter you. That does not mean I am less than civil. My business is to heal you. Which means your business is to rest when I am done and not pull your stitches. Mother Night! " Faeril groaned aloud with irritation. "The number of Eyrien males I have trooping through this place because of pulled stitches-!"

[color=crimson]"Now why the hell would I pull stitches that I sat through agonizing pain to get. I appreciate your healing and I'm not that [i]foolish[/] as to try and muff up your work."[/color] Xandar sighed, sitting up and sighing as he looked at his wound on his side. It was done well, this healer knew exactly what she was doing and did it well. The pain was one of the worst he had felt in a while, but as long as he would be at full health eventually, he wouldn't mind.

"I doubt any hunters followed me up here. I was careful to destroy whomever hunted me the first time and any evidence of what happened. I haven't been on the run for this long and got all these nicknames because I can be easily tracked. I present myself when I choose, or when some bloody idiot turns me in and is wishing for their own death. I have these battle scars because I fought to protect my people and what I believe in, I will have several more on my body by the time I'm done." Xandar looked down at his body, tracing his finger over a particular scar across his chest. The one his father gave him, one that would remind him of his past. Each scar had a meaning, and a memory to go with it, painful or otherwise.

"I will rest and stay low, I'll behave. But the question is now, what do you want in return? You made it quite obvious you don't do these things out of the kindness of your heart, and having an Ebon-Grey in your debt is an opportunity few come across." Xandar would most likely regret the answer to the question, but he didn't imagine her request was something he couldn't handle.

"Stay. Rest." Faeril sighed as she set the needle and thread aside. Before pushing hard back against Xandar's chest to make the man lay back down. "And we will talk of what is owed when you are healed." And see if she could use him at all for the web she had woven those long months ago. Standing she picked up the loom and snapped it in two, walking over the small fireplace sat in one wall and tossing the tools within. She would not be able to use them again and while it was a waste to burn them. It was the safest way to dispose them. Poking the coals over the frame to make sure it burned with a fire poker, the Black Widow sighed.

Were this centuries before she would have taken this Ebon-Grey Warlord Prince to task. But now there were other things that required her skill. It was not that she was callous or cruel, rather she was shrewd. Unwilling to get too close to anyone and risk the heart breaking loss or betrayal that would come. This man was handsome enough and sharp in his own way, But he was reasonable and claimed she was not. "Then we have a similar goals. Though I will require you to open your mind to me if you wish to know more. A precaution." And a rather large risk to her.

Xandar felt her hand on his chest as he let himself fall back to her force, laying down on his back and letting his muscles relax. It seemed she would keep him in the dark about what she wanted, and it seemed he would be here longer than he had originally hoped for. He assumed it was more because he needed him at full strength than worrying about his condition. He hadn't being in debt, and the more he owed this woman, the more it would bother him. But she was right, he had to relax and worry about getting better right now. He closed his eyes as he heard the fight crackle as the pieces of the loom got set on fire and crumbled in a heap.

"Similar goals?" Xandar inquired, opening an eye as he looked up at the Black Widow. How similar could their goals possibly be? Truth be told, he didn't really have any idea what her goals were. One thing was for sure, she wasn't trying to live a simple life. "Well I don't have much choice do I? I'll keep an open mind, considering you have helped me out. I don't have much to lose as it stands, but if I'm going to help you reach these goals, some more information would be lovely. You have a pretty face and more skill than you let on, so I'm not expecting simple." Xandar thought about it for a moment, biting his lip. "Opening my mind to a Widow does seem dangerous. But I have no reason not to trust you considering you healed me before and could have killed me when you had the chance."

"I could do far worse inside your mind than I could do to your body." Faeril studied the flames as they ate away at her work. The loom slowly turning to embers. The shield about Faeril was as much to protect herself from the Ebon-Grey as it was to protect him from her. Perhaps a bit sanctimonious, but she felt better with it. Living in danger for the past few centuries could make someone rather paranoid. "Then again, within your mind, you could do quite the damage to me." She noted with a almost regretful tone of voice.

The woman paused, her eyes narrowing. 'A pretty face'. Oh, plenty of people had told her that. Then cursed her cold and sharp temperament. How odd he was doing the opposite. Complimenting her in spite of it. Not that the compliments would have any effect. Faeril took pride in her cold armor, and with good reason. Loss was a crippling thing and she had felt it too keenly in the past. "My 'pretty face' has little to do with anything." She snipped as she turned back and sat back on the stool next to the bed. "Now, lower your shields and let me in. Then I may tell you my plan and how exactly you could repay me."

[color=crimosn]"Then it's a fair trade off, for we are both equally as dangerous to each other. Although you ask me to let you in and trust you, trust is a thing that goes both ways. I don't have much trust in anybody these days, but if I do trust you, I expect the same kind of respect. It's only fair."[/color] Xandar said, still laying down but propping himself up a bit to look at the Red Jeweled Healer. He could tell that she seemed as paranoid as he was on the run, the fact that anybody you run into could be after you. Xandar had felt that way for quite a while, and him being betrayed didn't help that cause. However, he was in a low point with an injury and had no choice but to put his fate in the hands of another.

"You're quite poor at taking compliments I see. It has much to do with how you hold yourself and how much you care for yourself. Many pretty faces are ruined by their actions and are little more than husks of their former selves. I can tell a lot about you from just looking at you, Faeril. But now you wish to know a lot more about me by going inside my mind. But if that's what it'll take then I suppose I don't have a choice." Xandar sighed, relaxing his body. His shields were down and he was now helpless to whatever the Black Widow had in mind. To be quite honest he didn't understand much about the Black Widows, considering they were hunted, but there was a reason why they were outlawed. However, an enemy of one's enemy is a friend, and he'd rather have his life in the hands of this cold and tempered woman than at the hands of a Queen.

"You assume a lot. So do us both a favor and be silent." The woman didn't waste any time for more words before stepping sideways, figuratively, into the Warlord Prince's mind. It was a skill she was trained in. The skill of the Hourglass were highly useful when you were hunted, if you knew how to best use them. But they were pitting those skills against people trained to hunt them. Carefully she ran the lightest of touches over his mind. Drawing out acts of violence and thought of ire. Faeril couldn't help but wince at a few of the deaths, typical she supposed. She had done as worse at times but she wasn't as Hell about to tell him that! Satisfied she withdrew with a slightly disgusted look on her face. "Warlord Princes..." She muttered in a matching tone. So much needless death.

He raised his hands up defensively, not uttering another word as he relaxed and layed there. It was a strange feeling, knowing that somebody was going through your mind, looking at what you've done and seen with your own eyes. Some would even wish to relive those experiences again. As she was done with going through his mind, at least for now, he opened his eyes again and raised an eyebrow. "Yes? What did you expect? I am a warrior first and I fight for pride and honor. Death is unavoidable." Xandar sighed as he sat up now, feeling a bit better but also feeling a little invaded and uncomfortable, knowing that his inner thoughts were being scanned at like a book. "So is that all you need or do you plan on going through my mind more? You have the information you need, so I'm hoping I could get some information myself. I can't go through your mind, but I hope that you would be honest with me and trust me as I have trusted you."

The Healer paused as she gave Xandar an annoyed look. "You pass. Not being controlled by a Queen is the only reason you remain in my care. As for my plan... You will stay here at my eyrie for a time. There is a storm coming." Lowering her shield the woman stood and moved over to a cabinet. Pulling out a bottle and pouring a red wine into a goblet she had also withdrawn from the interior.

"Well not being controlled by a Queen was my goal, and why I'm in all this mess in the first place. I'm not too fond of how they've been running things for, oh, hundreds of years. Lately I've been nothing but a thorn in their side." Xandar sighed, stretching his muscles and loosening himself up. He looked over as Faeril lowered her shield, pouring herself a glass of red wine. It seemed as though she wouldn't invade his brain anymore for the time being. "A storm? If something going to make things worse than it already is than that'll be one bloody hell of a time. I'm going to have to be on edge the whole time I'm here." Xandar laughed, summoning his tunic as he slipped it back onto his body. "It wasn't quite my plan to stay here very long, but I don't have anywhere I urgently need to be. I doubt you would keep me here if you merely wanted company. You always give me a look like you'd rather me dead on the spot."

"A storm will come though if it leave the Blood for better or worse I do not know. It will depend on who dwells within the eye of that storm." Studying the Warlord Prince with an appraising look, she frowned while sipping at the wine. "Yes, you will make up a point of it if you are accepted." The witch noted softly, lost in her thoughts.
Xandar Markov


Ashkevron residence in Aren, Askavi. Patient's Room.


Xandar felt a thump on his head from the Faeril as he looked over confused, now she was telling him to shut up. What kind of healer was this? All he did was lay down, take off his bandages, and tell her what happened. which, you know, was pretty standard. It seemed she had a more aggressive type of healing, as he watched her pool some kind of loom out and summoned what looked like silk into the room. The woman was muttering herself and gave an awfully displeased look at the man, like he had done and stabbed himself. Well he wasn't going to try and antagonize the woman, surely not in his condition and under her healing. He simply stayed still and watched as the healer went to work. As long as his injuries got better than he wasn't so concerned with her attitude or how she did things, he'd had been to numerous amounts of Eyrien healers. However, he had a strange feeling this one was different than the rest.

As she told him what had afflicted him he raised a curious eyebrow, and mulled the idea around his head. You know, that didn't seem all too far off. However, he didn't really interact with many black widows. No wonder an injury like this was taking days to heal. As she asked him about his jewel he sighed. "The same reason I don't have it on me now. That things a magnet for finding the wrong people. I only wear it when I have to, considering there's a bounty on my head, and there are very few people wielding the Ebon-Grey. In the presence of what I thought was a friend, a sapphire normally does the job. I was caught off guard to say the least." he explained, watching as the woman messed with her ring, a snake tooth being revealed. No wonder she knew what it was without a second thought, she herself was a black widow. He didn't know how he felt about it yet, although it made sense now. Suddenly he felt the snake tooth stabbed right into his open wound, and Xandar cried out in pain suddenly before closing his mouth, gritting his teeth.

Dear god he was liking this woman less and less, his blood boiled and pain shot through his nerves as this new poison coursed through his veins. If he was any less powerful than he was he would have damn near died, or at least fainted. But Xandar layed there in agonizing pain as the poisons fought each other off inside of his body like an all out brawl. Xandar made sure to stay perfectly still however, the Ebon-Grey Warlord prince merely gritting his teeth and squeezing his hand. He was no stranger to pain, but this blood boiling sensation was one of the worst he had felt for sure. The woman slid a shield over herself, and she still had that same damn annoyed look on her face. "You look pissed off at me like you were the one who just got stabbed."

Xandar felt the blood trickle out of his wound, filling up the vial the Red-Jeweled Widow had put out oh so nicely for him. He watched her weave her craft, fighting off the other poison in his body, and the pain didn't seem like it was going away any time soon. However, it seemed he was due for some questioning, as the Healer figured Xandar was definitely in a proper state to thing calmly and clearly. If he had not been getting treated right now he would have some choice words, but he held his tongue. "You and me both. I've had almost all of them breathing down my neck for years. The longer I'm alive and the more I do, the bigger my bounty gets and the more people notice. Most of my men have been either captured or slaughtered for my cause, or simply quit. After they stabbed me killed everybody in the house and set the thing ablaze. I didn't really have time to ask any questions." Xandar nodded, keeping perfectly still. "I'm not moving a muscle. Although now that you remind me I've been needing to shave. I don't know why you're so cautious of me that you had to slip a shield on yourself. I don't thing I'm in any position nor do I have a reason to fight back. To be fair, your words hurt more than the poison. My body may heal but my heart might not be able to repair from such harsh words."

Xandar Markov


Ashkevron residence in Aren, Askavi. Patient's Room.


Xandar was amused by the careful looks he got from everyone, that it seemed all eyes were on him and this conversation. It was funny how even other Eyriens feared a man such as himself, but could he blame them? Xandar grew up his entire life never fearing a single man, besides his father, and he had killed his father with his own two hands. Nobody had stood in his way since, and it was only the power of an entire kingdom that made the Warlord Prince think twice about what he did. The Ebon-Grey could only take him so far, there were few who rivaled him, and even less who possessed the Black Jewel. Maybe it was better that Xandar didn't have the Black Jewel, but some days he wished he had. But still, he could be worse off. There were very light jewels in his presence, all of their lives snuffed with a snap of his fingers. At least, the ones he had met so far. The strange man who liked having staring contests with him didn't seem to be from around here and a bit more competent than some he had met, but nothing he couldn't handle. He hoped that he wouldn't be a thorn in his side, he seemed very suspicious of him, an the last thing he wanted was dramatics. However, this healer... she wore the pants here so it seemed. It was truly as if the two adults were talking, and this mother was trying to deal with her children in the mean time.

Once the Red-Jeweled woman took his glance, eyeing him up before speaking to him, it took a few short moments before she finally agreed to speak in private. This discussion of his injuries were not one he'd like to have with anyone besides the one who was going to treat him, and he would also like to hide the severity in case anybody had any ideas. There was still a large bounty on his head after all, and he didn't want anybody getting a cool idea to try and capture him when he wasn't at full strength. But, even in this current state he was a force to be reckoned with, and he would act proud and powerful for as long as he could. As he got up from his chair to follow her the little minions seemed to spring up as if on cue. Oh it was adorable, the little children afraid for her mother. She was the only one who could even stand up to him, and these people wanted to stay for security? They would honestly only get in her way if anything happened.

After a bit of bickering and pointless arguments the lady of the house shut them up with a single hand raise, switching to her Eyrien tongue as she addressed them. Wow, a sensible woman who knew what she was talking about and had some balls to say it. A+. She finally shut up the children and told them to leave the adults to their business. Xandar walked slowly to the door, sighing as he stretched his large wings out, extending them far before folding them back in again. She was starting to like this woman, which was probably more concerning than anything. The kind of people he liked were like him, and he knew it wouldn't be an easy task repaying this woman. She'd milk him for all he was worth at this rate. But what choice did he really have?

"All these rumors, calling me by my alias. Yes, there are many rumors about me I'm sure. The only thing exaggerated about them are why I did things, not what I did or how I did them. If I was here for your souls I would have announced it when I walked in the door gentleman, but I'm not here to kill anyone, especially not your precious healer. Everyone else in the room? I could care less. But, I suppose if I made trouble I would not get the service I want. My business is with the woman, and not with any of you. I came here for what I want, and when I get it I'll be on my way." Xandar said, walking over to the door as he put his hand on the door frame.

"Now if you'd excuse us, the adults are talking." Xandar said smugly before disappearing into the hall behind Faeril.

Once they had gotten into the patient's room, Xandar sat down on the examining table or whatever she called it and stretched a bit, yawning. He slipped off his tunic, vanishing it as he was now shirtless and his whole upper body was on full display to the woman.He wasn't shy in the least, he had nothing to be ashamed of, and she wouldn't be the first or last woman he'd take his clothes off around. However, there was one spot on his torso that was fairly unusual. There was some bandages wrapped around his torso, some pads pushed against the side of his ribs. He vanished those as well, and a nasty looking wound was shown as he lay on his side. It was wide and deep, and it seemed like it was taking a lot just to not have the wound gushing blood everywhere. There was only so much healing he could do on his own, but this wound only got worse by the day.

"If I could do this myself I wouldn't have come, but this is a bit serious. This wouldn't be the first time I've had a life threatening injury, however, this one I can't just tough out. A week ago I was ambushed by some of the Queen's men, I was turned in by one of the people I thought I trusted for my bounty. Fucker caught me off guard before I could get my Ebon-Grey, hit me hard. If I hadn't flinched when I did I would have been captured for sure and this injury would have crippled me. I burned the whole place and the bodies to the ground and left. It's been getting worse and I've felt weaker every day. I have a bad feeling this isn't normal."

Xandar sighed, staring at the wall as he said this. He hated this moment of weakness, of need, having to get help from somebody he barely knew. His pride would have to wait for now, as he wasn't stupid enough to have himself die or get captured this easily. If he had to play nice for a bit and bite the bullet he would. He just had a bad feeling about this woman, not the fact that she wouldn't heal him. The barkeep wouldn't send him to some place he didn't trust, but those words still rung in his head. She'd put him right, one way or another, although he might not like how she did it. It couldn't be that bad.
Xandar Markov


Ashkevron residence in Aren, Askavi


Xandar waited for the other two to arrive and crossed his arms, standing behind them as Denvar knocked on the heavy wooden door. After a few clicks and a swift swing of the door, a woman appeared with bright blue eyes and dark hair. An Eyrien woman, who was much smaller than him but he could tell that she was very capable despite her small stature. This was definitely the woman, and she took no time to push past Denvar and call him out. By his title no less, 'The Reaper' was a name that almost everybody knew him by now, most of his other names lost to this one. Death, destruction, murder, war, the name was carried with a certain despair and weight to it. Rumor carried by the winds speak of slaughters and massacres of hundreds of men, even his own father put to death by his own hand, Xandar Markov was the last of his lineage. Years of living rogue and on his own, fighting against the queens and being hunted have shaped these rumors so harshly. A man that once fought for a cause, for rebellion, and for honor talked about like a walking serial killer. A reaper only came for those who deserved death, and their death came swift, but a reaper was not above killing those who got in his way. Fear would be a rational reaction to the sight of Xandar, a man of great strength and size, but this woman walked right up to him, knew exactly who he was, and was fine with it. It might have not been the most respectful greeting, but he needed her help so he wasn't going to go about and start any fights. He would have to be on his best behavior, and try to figure out who these people really were, and what they were about.

"If you know who I am then you should well know my loyalties, which are quite exclusive to myself. I don't think I need to explain much more than that." Xandar commented, smirking as he gave her a knowing look. He was well aware that she must know the bounty on his head and how he got it. He wasn't concerned in fighting anybody but the Queens and their people who were spreading evil and tyranny about his people. He refused to bow to those he did not agree with. As he stepped through the door he flipped back his hood, casting a heating spell on himself. He instantly dried off as he stepped through the door, completely dry as a bit of steam came off of him. He vanished his cloak, becoming a bit too warm from the heating spell. His jet black hair was cut about medium length, wavy and thick as he ran his hand through his locks. His bright gold eyes reflected the light brightly as he took a look around, taking in the view. The front room was of a wealth he was more familiar too, plush but heavy furniture, a fire place, and it seemed a bit cozy. His eyes also glanced over to the kitchen, where he noticed another set of eyes staring back at him.

A tall, slim man with white hair and blue eyes watched his move ever so carefully. His body was relaxed but he could feel the cold stare piercing through him was those ice blue eyes. It seemed that the Xandar had attracted more attention than he was hoping for just by walking into the room. This was usually the case, if the man didn't catch anything from his nickname Xandar's sheer size and presence alone was enough to make people worry. This is why for the most part he kept his Ebon-grey vanished. The sight of that jewel alone had people for the door. This glare however did not intimidate him in the least bit, and he locked eyes with the man for a brief moment. His warm, glowing gold eyes looked back at his blue ones, ever so calm and confident, as if saying 'Watch me all you want'. This moment ended with a slight smirk before he turned and walked deeper into the front room. He unclasped his leather armor, sending that into the void as well as all his weapons. He was left with a black sleeveless tunic which opened in a v neck on the front. It was rather tight, the strings on the v neck puled tightly as the cloth clung to his frame. The back was torn open near the shoulder blades to make room for his wings, which now rested neatly on his back. He sat down on one of the chairs, this legs spread a bit and he leaned on the one arm rest, holding up his head with his hand. With the other hand he absentmindedly played with his ring, the Sapphire.

"Now to answer your question of why I'm here, I was in need of a healer of your talents. I came by Boar, as I used to know the son of the man who owned it, and asked if he could help me out. He pointed me in your direction, and I trust him, so here I am to ask of your services. As for this one on the couch, I have no idea who she is or why she's here, I was simply told to bring her along and that you'd want to see her. Before today I hadn't met the witch in my life. Truth be told with her attitude it'd be best I hadn't, but alas." He chuckled, not even glancing at Dareen as his eyes were fixed on the fire. He knew she wasn't very fond of him, and in his mind he was just waiting for her to dare to something so he could put her in her place. But he had to behave, and so he wouldn't try to start violence. But, taunting and belittling her wasn't out of the question.

"My business here is solely with you and your services. I can discuss it more in detail with a bit more... privacy. But in short all I ask is for you to do what you do, I provide compensation, and I'm on my merry way to go about business as usual. I'm not here to try and stir things up in this lovely town of yours. Starting needless trouble when I have better things to do is the least of my concern." he noted, looking right at Faeril as he said this. He wanted this event to be as quick and painless as possible, and hopefully this would go over smoothly. However, he had a bad feeling that this little detour would take longer than expected.
Xandar Markov


Outside of Winged Boar in Aren, Askavi


Xandar joined the two of them outside as and sighed a shallow breath. It seemed like Denvar was at least going to take care of their little witchling, and she seemed at least somewhat cooperative now that he put her in her place. Still, if he didn't have to deal with her, he wouldn't. Besides, what kind of witch carries around weapons and armor like that if they weren't expecting a fight? As suspicious as it was, he had no desire to concern himself. It would be better to let the tiger-eye jeweled prince handle the woman. The rain fell down heavy as he stepped from the cover of the building, letting the rain fall over him and cool him off. He stretched his shoulders, large bat-like wings spreading out far on either side of him. "And the woman still thinks her opinion matters? Charming. While you handle that Denvar I'll meet you up there. I'm not going to wait any longer than I have to." Xandar proclaimed, immediately jumping up in the air and with a flap of his wings he shot off into the sky towards the particular Eyries on the mountainside closest to Aren. He had grown rather impatient, flying fast and weaving through the rain as he set off for his destination. It wouldn't take him very long before landing and retracting his wings to his back. He'd be met by a lovely garden, although he assumed it would look much more lovely in nicer weather. Well, it wouldn't hurt to knock, although he debated on waiting for the other two before moving on ahead. Not for very long, but he thought about it. After all, it was Denvar who knew these people, not him.
Xandar Markov


Winged Boar in Aren, Askavi


Xandar had a deep, boastful laugh to himself, almost as if somebody had said a terribly wonderful joke. Was this witch serious? Quite the balls on this one, he'd give her that. Either that or she had a death wish. He could tell from he that his craft proved far more powerful than hers. His initial offer was nice in comparison, most times he would be a lot more... violent about these things, he could have simply knocker her out and dragged her body out of the bar. He had no attachment to this woman and cared little for her well being. The only reason he was asking was because Randalvar asked to bring her along with. To be quite fair, he had no idea who this woman was or what she would want with Dareen. That was none of his business, it was simply his job to get the witch over to the healer. After his laugh his look got a bit more serious.

The hand with his ring cast out, the sapphire glinting slightly as a strong force was exerted. A strong grip could be felt out Dareen's neck, cutting off the oxygen as she was lifted a couple feet in the air, almost hitting the ceiling He brought her over to him, lowering her so that the two were eye level. His eyes were dead serious, and it was clear he was getting a bit of a temper. His patience had run out. "I do not care who or what you are, and you should be kissing my boot and thanking me that I haven't killed you already. You should well know your place, I owe you nothing. All you need to know is you're coming with me to see her, and after that I couldn't give a fuck. Your life matters little to me, it's laughable to think I care about your feelings or need for knowledge. I will grant you this, for having even the nerve to talk to me. My name is Xandar Markov, and I am like no man you have ever met before. Remember and fear that name, witch."

After that he loosened his grip on her neck, turning around before tossing her head first out of the entrance to the Winged Boar. Xandar sighed, cracking his neck as he slowly started to walk out of there himself. Maybe in different circumstances he would be more reasonable, but he's been on the run, injured, and very impatient lately, and it needn't make much for him to lash out. However, he would try to avoid needless bloodshed for now.

"Denvar. Would you mind leading the way for me? If it's no trouble to you, I'd like to make this trip as swift and painless as possible." he muttered, walking past him as he stopped near doorway. "Oh, and Randalvar. Thank you again. I'm sure I'll see you again soon enough, maybe have a drink and have some talk. I appreciate your hospitality. Oh, and I'll toss that out for you." The warlord prince noted, picking up the belongings of the yellow jeweled witch with his telekinesis and hurling it out of the Winged Boar in her general direction.
Xandar Markov


Winged Boar in Aren, Askavi


Xandar nodded at the older man, finishing off his mug and sliding it gently away from him. It seemed the lord was not terribly angry at him over the death of his son, although it seemed it did take him a moment to get his bearings. But like many of their race, death and war was part of their heritage, and people dying in battle was non an unusual occurrence. The Eyrien race was almost desensitized to death itself, becoming part of their culture, the dream was to die a glorious death fighting for what you believed in. Although frankly Xandar was not ready to die just yet.

The warlord prince stretched and nodded as Randalvar gestured to Denvar. It seemed that the brooding man in the corner who was questionably sober would guide him to what he was looking for. Or at least, what he had hoped for. A rogue warlord prince with lots of capture bounties on his head could never be too cautious of people. He hadn't made it this far believing everything that strangers told him. However, he was slowly running out of options and these were the friendliest faces he had seen in months, which was almost hard to believe. As he was lost in thought he turned to see the woman next to him spill the contents of her drink all over the floor in what appeared to be a clumsy accident. Dear lord, this was the person he was supposed to take with him to see the local healer? Hopefully she was specialized in brain cells, because it looked like this one might be lacking. A sigh blew out his lips before nodding to the bartender, standing up from his stool and looking over toward the other warlord prince. "Well, as long as right is better than my current state, I have no room to complain." Xandar said in his Eyrien tongue, taking a step or two towards Denvar. "Xandar Markov. It's a pleasure." the man said, giving a bit of a nod towards him in respect. Normally he was never this nice to anybody, but in this instance it would be unwise to be rude to the people helping you.

"Well there's no rush, but I'm ready to now if you like." Xandar mentioned, before turning around to face the woman in the room. His tongue switched to common, and his voice was commanding more than questioning. "Woman. If you know what's good for you, I'd suggest you come with us. There's somebody who wants to see you, and they're not taking no for an answer. Keep your mouth shut, nod your head, and you'll be fine." Xandar said to Dareen, his bright eyes looking straight into her as his words echoed in the room. His expression turned ever so softer as he gave a nod towards Randalvar and spoke in Eyrien once more. "I appreciate your kindness. If there's anything you would need from me feel free to ask."
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