Slim Shady

DEAD ISLAND 💀🌴

Cole Anderson

Cole Anderson

Male

Caucasian

6'3"

Cole Anderson

Personality Description: As the situation stands, he's a bit hesitant when it comes to other people. I mean, he was never trusting of other people in the first place, let alone during living hell. Despite this, he knows deep down that sometimes you have to work together with the living to keep from being the undead. He tries to keep his relationships surface level, need based, and to the point. Obviously there's room for friendship if something would come up, but his first priority is surviving, and that means not getting stabbed in the back. Although truthfully he's a sucker for a pretty face. Besides not being fully welcoming of others, he is a bit sarcastic, blunt, and not afraid to hurt your feelings. None of that drama BS. He's confident in himself, he's proud, and he's not about to take shit from anyone. But deep down he's not a terrible guy only out for himself, he does have morals and knows right from wrong. Moral is one of the only differences between us and them, otherwise what is humanity good for?

Short Biography: To be revealed IC

Voice:

Voice clip

https://youtu.be/Vawp9qs6_80

(0:39 to 0:58, male voice)

Character Profession/Job/Career: Professional boxer and MMA fighter, small celebrity on youtube and in his career

Character Nationality: American

Skills:
Hand to hand combat- Years of experience in boxing, taekwando, jujitsu, and street fighting tactics.
Parkour- Used for strength training and posted youtube videos online of his feats
Athlete- Was a multi sport athlete in highschool and college, WR in Football, Pitcher in Baseball, PG in Basketball

Weaknesses/Detriments:
Moral obligation- Doing the right thing even if it puts himself in harm's way sometimes
Attraction- As mentioned above, sucker for a pretty face
Dark past- Slight PTSD and emotional trauma earlier in life having negative consequences

Likes: To be revealed IC

Dislikes: To be revealed IC

Character Blood Type: O-

“This hell looks a lot like paradise.”

DEAD ISLAND 💀🌴 (Reboot) (4-8 Players)

@Delphio Is it alright if I use the character I made from last time? I really enjoyed him and would hate to waste a good character. If not no big deal.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Xandar Markov

&

Gennar

Location - Front Door, Ashkevron residence in Aren, Askavi

Xandar paused and chuckled a bit, gently setting down the feisty Queen as she joked around. "No my dear, you are much more valuable than a trinket. I'm just used to carrying you around I suppose." He took a long drag of his cigarette and raised an eyebrow, eyeing up his shoulder and knee, the places that had some glancing sword wounds on them. They weren't a huge deal, but annoying none the less. Once his adrenaline and craft stim wore off he'd probably feel them sting a bit more. Before he had time to respond, however, the rest of the members started suddenly barraging him with questions like he was under interrogation. The main concern was of Faeril, which he had left to scale up to the Eyrie with the other two. "Listen, I was under no order to babysit her. I offered, but she seemed perfectly capable walking back up, and two of the Queen's men are with her. You should be glad I took care of those bastards first and didn't lead her into an ambush. You ungrateful pricks. I don't even get a thanks for saving your sorry asses." he sighed, taking a long drag of his cigarette, puffing out a bit of smoke. As he felt himself shoved away from Fatima something pulled in him, and his heartbeat picked up. "Look, if you are so damn worried then why don't you go down there and..." He was cut off as he felt a fist connect with his jaw, a sucker punch, causing his head to turn stiffly. This man had the audacity to push him away from his Queen, blame Xandar for HIS own job, not Xandar's, and then has the audacity to strike him? His blood boiled, and he cracked his neck as he slowly walked forward.

Gennar bristled as his brother left their scavenging to rush back in hopes to head off the oncoming fight. While both Denvar and Bellinar were good friends of Faeril, Gen had always been there with the Black Widow. A constant companion and protector, even a lover for a period in her life though the Warlord had taken no joy from it. "No, you weren't under any damn order." Gennar growled deeply, his wings spreading as he moved to a more solid stance. Snorting in scorn the man sneered. "She should have left you to your wounds. Once a rogue always a rogue. We could have dealt with these fools ourself, but you just had to show off like a peacock for your little-"
"Gennar!" Barked Bellinar gripping one of his brother's arms as he jerked the male to the side, or attempted to. Gen would not be moved as he bristled, ready to go toe to toe with the Ebon-Grey.
"Oh, why don't we go down there? Why don't we fly in circle making a scene! Great idea, we have this mess and a missing Black Widow! Who, by the way, wouldn't admit to a weakness even if she was blindly flying through the Khaldharon Run!" Gen roared, naming the most dangerous section of the Winds that the Eyriens used to test their warriors. It was a incredibly dangerous and not all those who tested it survived.

Xandar stood mere inches away from Gennar, looking down at him as his muscles rippled, anger swelling up as he clenched his fists. He was seconds from blowing this man off the face of the Earth if it wasn't for Fatima standing right behind him. He looked the man dead in the eye, the anger very apparent in his scowl as his face and jaw looked stiff. "So you, her protector, are going to blame ME for her being on her own? Isn't it YOUR job to guard her? And those other two? Maybe if you got off your asses and went with her this would have been okay. Instead you had your thumb in your ass here. Half those soldiers were a darker jewel than you anyhow, casualties would have been sustained if I didn't come here. Oh wait, that's right.... Even Faeril is stronger than you. What good would a pathetic, weak, insignificant man like yourself do in the face of danger? I'm sure SHE would be the one protecting YOU. Blame me all you want for letting the woman be, I'm not her babysitter. I've saved her life once already today. " Xandar grabbed the front of Gennar's shirt, pulling him closer so they were eye level as Ebon-Grey starting forming around The Reaper's body. "Now I won't tell you again. Get out of my way before you start something you can't finish."

Denvar hissed and spread his wings, "Look before you speak. Gennar wears the Green. Higher than the bastards out there!" Insulted the male considered the Ebon Grey Warlord Prince with a nastly look in his gold eyes.
"Denvar!" Bellinar hissed to his brother, still attempting to keep some peace.
To no avail however, Gen snarled deeply tearing back from Xandar's grip. His shirt tearing off a lean and well trained body. "Saving her life once? From what." The man demanded shortly, looking doubtful.

"Check the bodies and I'm sure you'll find plenty of Green out there" Xandar snapped, before turning back to Gen. "There was an altercation at the bar, a misunderstanding. A knife inches from her neck, if not for my shield would have pierced her throat. But you wouldn't know that. Her so called protectors were up here eating breakfast and jacking off, but have the audacity to blame me for their shortcomings. Pathetic. I would be doing her a favor ending your life now. Xandar felt his adrenaline surge as he closed his right hand in a fist, his free hand, and sent it towards the man's jaw. "I said MOVE."

Gen's head snapped to the side as he rolled his neck to take the blow. It wouldn't break his jaw but there would a bruise that went to the bone. Bellinar grabbing his older's brother's one arm while Denvar seized the other. "Gen, dammit! Focus! Ashke needs your head on straight." The Tiger-eyed Warlord Prince hissed.
"So you just jack to the Queen's pleasure?" Gen was about to say something worse when a all too familiar voice bounced off the mountains in a shriek of agony and terror. It froze the brothers into place for a minute, their faces pale. Gen was the first to act as he shook and tried to fight his way free of his brother's hold before his leathery wings lifted him into the sky to find his missing friend. Faeril never screamed. If she did....
"If anything happens to her, it's your jewels." Hissed Bellinar, despite trying to keep the peace that horrid scream was too much for the wanderer.

As he heard the scream, he whipped his head around to locate the source of the sound. It sounded like a couple hundred feet down to where the stairs were... That was undoubtly Faeril. Could the woman really not take care of herself? For god's sake how was she still alive with these idiots trying to protect her. As the brothers scrambled to untangle themselves and go to save Faeril, Xandar put a Ebon-Grey shield over Fatima's body, cloaking her in the dark craft. "Do I have to do everything myself? Useless... Queen, please stay put and hide this time. I don't need anybody else in danger while I'm not around. I won't be long." And with that he took off, taking a running start and leaping off the cliff in a single motion, turning himself mid-air. It would take too long simply flying, so he summoned the supplies he was given by Randalvar on top of his body, holding them as he felt his weight increase dramatically. "I'll handle it. None of you are good for anything anyhow." And with that he dropped very quickly, scaling down the cliff at such an angle that he'd reach the side of the staircase in a few seconds. Damn it all. He couldn't leave the Widow alone for five seconds without something bad happening. If he didn't need her he probably wouldn't care, and beat the living hell out of Gennar. But, something seemed sweeter about doing their job better than they could. Physical pain was temporary after all.

DEAD ISLAND 💀🌴 (Reboot) (4-8 Players)

Guess who's back... Back again...

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Xandar Markov

Location: Faeril's Eyrie, front door

The rest of the soldiers were all but in a panic as Xandar laughed softly to himself, a wild look in his eyes as he stared at them like a wolf hunting prey. He let the tip of his blade trail along the ground as he took his slow and methodical approach, cornering the last four soldiers. The bravest of them all spoke up, brandishing his sword in an attempt to rally his comrades. "We have him outnumbered four to one! We can surround him so we can have the advantage, he's trapped in here with us! If we all attack at once we..."

The Reaper's laughter grew louder, like somebody had told him the funniest joke in the world, which only made the soldiers more frightened at his unusual demeanor. "Oh it's quite the contrary..." Xandar said, gesturing to the large dome that encased all of them. As his hand gestured he was suddenly in front of the man who spoke up, clutching his neck in his hand as he lofted him clear off the ground, his other hand holding his rather large sword with ease. The Warlord Prince looked the Eyrien dead in the eye, Xandar's face now a deadly serious one as the man's face froze in horror, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"None of you seem to understand. I'm not locked up in here with you. You're locked in here with me."

A sickening crunch echoed as the life faded from the man's eyes, his windpipe and spinal cord shattering in his neck as his lifeless corpse dropped to the ground with a thud, his body discarded like trash. It seemed that the fear keeping the other soldiers frozen subsided, seeing their companion died as the rest charged at him with utter rage. It seemed like they knew that surrendering would do them no good anymore, and that he would kill them anyhow. Whether they really thought they had a chance or were just fighting for honor was a mystery, but it was quite clear they were no match at all for a monster like him. A Queen Killer, filled with pure unadulterated rage which would only be quenched by death and violence.

Even three to one the speed and power of the Ebon-Grey combined with master swordsmanship kept all three swords at bay with his own, parrying and blocking each shot like a whirlwind. Sparks flew as metal hit metal, the three remaining Eyriens trying to circle around him to gain some kind of advantage, but expert footwork kept Xandar one step ahead. It was like a hunter playing with his food, showing off his skills and showing how useless their attempt was to fight back. Except his confidence overlooked a small detail, his prior injury on his left side, and it seemed his defenses were weaker on that side.

As all three attacked at once, Xandar turned his blade to block two of the Eyrien's swords at a time, but one of the three took a lower route and sliced into his left knee. How could this be? Was he losing his touch? As the fight slowly progressed on it seemed his stamina was waning, and it took more effort to just keep the three at bay. Some times Xandar forgot just how mortal he was, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to keep this up forever. He had to end it soon if he didn't want this to bite him in the ass.

All it took was one misstep to turn the tide of a sword fight, and Xandar decided to help his opponents with that , using his craft to slide one of the soldier's foot a few feet off track as he went to re-position himself. The man's legs went opposite ways, and the Eyrien was in a beautifully painful split, and screams of pain were shortly heard afterwards. In that moment of confusion Xandar went to work, taking a few swings and pouncing on a Green-Jeweled soldier, overwhelming him with power and quick sword swings. His shield wouldn't last, as his body was cut to ribbons in seconds, clean slices through his torso as blood covered his blade. A quick slice through the skull finished him off, cutting deep into his body.

However, his blade seemed to be stuck for a moment, and in that time the last remaining soldier hacked at The Reaper with his sword, crashing against his shield. The shield around his left shoulder cracked, leaving a glancing blow on his skin as the sword started to pierce his defenses. As the Purple-Dusk soldier went to crash his sword down upon Xandar's head, he felt his sword stop short as Xandar's hand reached out, stopping it with his craft. He ripped the sword from the soldier, leaving his own sword in the corpse as he settled this with his bare hands. He was just as skilled hand to hand, as he very quickly delivered a punch that damn near broke the jaw of the Eyrien soldier, sending him stumbling back. The soldier tried to answer back as Xandar easily dodge the punch, before delivering to quick jabs that cracked lots of ribs. Before he could react, he felt his head get tugged forward by Xandar's craft as he got pulled face first into an elbow, teeth shattering and nose breaking as he fell backwards into the dirt.

It took a few moments before the Eyrien slowly got up, barely having the strength to do so. The soldier spit out blood, doubling over before feeling himself get grabbed and lifted up in the air. To week to fight back, he looked up at the sky in horror as he silently accepted his death. His body dropped like a rock, The Reaper's knee slamming into his back as his lifeless body slumped in a heap, twisted at an odd angle now. Xandar's face was stone cold, turning around to slowly slide his blade out of the fallen corpse, fresh blood coating the blade.

This left one last soldier, but the man already had put his sword down, kneeling with his hands clasped as he looked down at the ground. He didn't move, and it was clear that there was no use fighting. The man accepted his death. Xandar slowly walked up to the man, not uttering a word as he stood in front of him, looking down. He slowly raised his sword, high above his head as the Eyrien pleaded and cried, but realized his effort was useless. The man took a deep breath, looking forward as he talked in a shaky breath. "I understand it's no use after what we've done. I accept my fate. All I ask is a swift death and a proper burial. As an Eyrien it is an honor dying on the battlefield to a worthy opponent. I welcome death."

The sword came down hard, but there wasn't a slicing sound, and blood didn't spray everywhere. Instead there was a loud thud, as the hilt of the blade made contact with the man's skull, and he slumped unconscious into the ground. The dome slowly faded, as The Reaper sheathed his sword and looked down at the man.

"This is true, but you will not die today. I've lost too many of my brethren to a world gone mad. I fight for my people, not against them."

Xandar took out a cigarette, casually lighting it as he walked up to the group huddled near the entrance to the Eyrie. Covered in blood and wearing full armor and brandishing a sword, he took a long drag of his cigarette, letting a slow puff out as he eyed up the group. He walked firmly up to Gen as he grabbed the woman he was holding, seizing her from his grasp.

"Well, I took care of your guests. This one's mine though, and I'll be taking her back thank you."

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Xandar Markov

Location: Outside of Winged Boar in Aven, Askavi

It seemed as though the fate of the man would be postponed until they came back to Faeril's residence. Seeing as though he was not trying to murder anybody at the moment, he could at least be less on edge that something bad was going to happen. Even so, there was only so much he could tolerate before he'd get angry, drunk, or both in a lot of cases. If such an event would happen again, he wouldn't think twice about lobbing a head or two off. He felt an urge to protect those around him, which was odd, considering he's been very apathetic to most these last few hundred years, let alone to strangers.

An audible groan escaped his lips when he heard the word walk, considering it would take a considerably longer amount of time and much more effort to reach the house on foot. Why would she offer if she herself could fly? Although, it seemed not everybody with them could fly, and she would have to surely show them the way. As much as he would love a walk, Xandar decided Faeril didn't need an escort back up to her home, and that he would fly himself there. Surely Jandar was with her at the very least, and the rest seemed competent more or less. Even the Queen would be with her, or so he thought, as he heard footsteps behind him as he was about to take off.

"As fun as that sounds, I'll be flying up there. I'm sure you lot can take care of yoursel-"

The Reaper raised an eyebrow at Fatima, seeing as it was quite bizarre for a Queen to ask him to fly her there without the company of her court. Well, she did believe he was going to be on her court. While the idea did seem like a good one, and he felt a strong urge to serve, his heart had been played with too many times to be swayed so easy. But still, a ride there wasn't a burden at all to him, as long as she wasn't one to get air sick. He's sure he'd get an earful from somebody about all this, but who could say no to the Queen?

"I suppose I could. Just make sure you hold on tightly, and don't get sick on me."

And with that he quickly scooped Fatima up in his arms bridal style, Making sure she had time to wrap her arms around his neck in the very least before immediately jumping and taking off with his wings. If he took too long he was afraid Faeril or Jassen would have choice words, but it was much easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. The weather was quite nicer than the last time he flew up the mountain, so it was smooth sailing and a nice view as they quickly ascended the cliff side.

"So, did you want to do this so you could see what it's like to fly, or were you dreading the walk as much as I did?" Xandar chuckled, trying to make some small talk as they would soon reach the top.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Xandar Markov

Location: Winged Boar in Aven, Askavi

It seemed as though things were starting to get a bit more lighthearted, as Xandar took a seat next to the Queen and joined the table with her other two "companions". The one introduced himself in a respectable manner, letting know his intentions in coming here, which was quite respectable. This "Jean" character seemed like one of the Queen's right hand men, and a bit more serious and proper in his approach. Much more mature than Jassen, the drunk sulking in the corner. Xandar nodded at Jandar, about to open his mouth before Faeril came over next to him, Randalvar right behind her. He gave a slight wave of his hand, the supplies vanished as he caught the whiskey all in the same motion, winking at Randalvar. He had a feeling he would need a drink, and possibly even more, to deal with this eventful morning.

He listened as Faeril talked about Jassen and the fact that Jean would join the court while the drunk had the option of dying or having his memory wiped. Quite the harsh sentence, but certainly necessary. Any slower reaction by him or Jean would have meant a near death experience for the local healer, which he still needed as much as she needed him. Hopefully another scuffle wouldn't erupt at the table, although Randalvar cautioned Faeril that she indeed had her Blood Opal and not the Red out. She seemed quite exhausted, and something was telling him she had her reasons for holding back, as did Xandar. For a moment he revealed his Ebon Grey, but now had his Sapphire, as using his Ebon Grey would attract the wrong kind of attention most days. Come to think of it...

Xandar downed the shot of whiskey, the slight burn of his throat comforting as he pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with his thumb and taking a puff of it. "While the fate of this man is surely, important to some degree, I have a bad feeling about our current situation. My name is Xandar Markov, as a formality, but I am more often referred to by an Alias that has shown only the worst of me I'm afraid. That being said, with me being her, the Queen, ambassadors, Faeril, and all the attention and new faces running through here... I can't help but get the feeling that we would have some unexpected company rather soon. I never stayed in the same place long for this reason. It's not a matter of if, but when they come, what shall we do then? Once we figure that out I'm happy to discuss this new world order business."

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Xandar Markov & Fatima Damiana

Location: Winged Boar in Aven, Askavi

Xandar heard a gruff “thank you” from Faeril, or what he assumed was a thank you, as he nearly saved her from a tragic stabbing incident. He guessed it was her way of being nice, which was better than what he had been getting from her yesterday. Quite honestly it gave Xandar an excuse to take out his aggression that was somewhat justified, even if the situation was somewhat under control as it was. There was no moment that he didn’t want to assert his dominance in the room, and he stared Jassen down and gave a small smirk as he bowed and took his place back at his seat. As he was about to continue his conversation, a handle gripped his shoulder for a moment, interrupting him.

”Puppy? I’m sorry Widow, but I’m used to having a conversation to get to know someone, rather than poking around their brain.” The Reaper said with a sigh, before turning himself in his chair and crossing his arms, watching over the two women as they talked and went about their business. They were muttering and arguing up a storm it seemed, and he gathered bits and pieces, but the whole situation was throwing Xandar for a loop. This feeling he had was stopping him from instinctually drawing his sword and cleaving heads off after hearing a queen was within spitting distance of him. But the voice in the back of his mind was telling him no, that this one was different. He didn’t understand why, but he held himself in check. Nothing was happening so far, so he would hold himself for now.

Turning back to the conversation as he was addressed, the curve ball came like a shock to him as he was told that she was free of the corruption and filth of the other Queens, something he took with a grain of salt. She did seem different, but he has had his trust abused before, and it almost cost him his life, and he would have his injury on his side to remember that. But the even wilder bit was the offer to be her Master of the Guard. The one thing he was avoiding, being controlled by a Queen… and this is what they wanted from him? He spent a good portion of his life fighting against this, and they wanted him to go willingly? Yes she may not be corrupt, but he would have to see this for himself. After the events of the past, his trust would not be bought so easily. But… if this is all true, then this would exactly what he wanted. To be a part of true order and leadership, a force to stop the twisted queens and bring peace and prosperity back to his people. At first he had this weight on his shoulders, but would some others now share this load?

He turned his attention to Fatima, his shoulders set back as his face was not so bright and casual as he was a few moments ago. His face was serious, confident, and his bright gold eyes seemed like they were smoldering with intensity. A warm, glowing fire, but also powerful and destructive. Fire was not easy to contain, but when controlled would be a powerful ally.

”So far you have given me no reason to kill you, but if not for this feeling I have I might have thought about it when I walked in here. While this all sounds good, I am not bought over so easily. The Widow may be able to read your mind, but how I determine a person’s worth is through their heart. I judge their pride, their compassion, their will and their determination. I have spent many years avoiding your kind, afraid of being just another pawn in their game. I am an Eyrien man, the last of my blood line, and I have taken countless lives in the pursuit of freedom and a better life for my people. If you prove to me that deep in your heart that you can and will change this world for the better, then I will commit to you as I have committed to my cause. Show me your heart, Queen. Show me… Hope.”

She was feeling quite confused. The giant of a man was saying quite a lot. She brought her hands together below her breasts again, standing much like an opera singer. Fatima walked toward him, feeling that he would not strike her down just yet, and tilted her face up. “Then, what would you have me do?” Her question was quiet and cool, attempting not to betray the nerves she felt.

The Prince sighed as he looked down at the Queen, a million things running around in his head as he looked at his hand resting on the counter, his sapphire glowing dimly on the ring on his finger. It was a strange thing, the Queen asking what to do rather than others asking her. She did seem new to all this for sure, but, that might be a good thing. This gave her room to grow and learn the proper, kinder, right way to go about things. ”It’s not some action or task you can do simply. Just be… you. And I will judge your character. The same goes for you, if you’ll have me. I trust Faeril and her observations, but I’m hesitant to sign myself to such a role so quickly. I want to be able to trust you.”

She relaxed slightly, her shoulders coming down and her back less stiff. A broad smile appeared on her face. "I couldn't be anyone else if I tried," she laughed and let her hands fall to her side. "And I hope to trust you with all of my heart." Fatima moved and picked up her spilled cup from the floor. She set it upon the bar before hoisting herself up onto it on her stomach. Her feet were well off the floor and waved as she steadied herself on the bar. She reached over and pulled a towel from the other side. Hopping off the counter she set about cleaning up her mess. On her hands and knees she scrubbed at the wine on the floor, hoping it wouldn't stain.

"Well, if we've got everything sorted out well enough," she said from her position on the floor, "then I think it would be best to get to know one another, hmm?" She finished cleaning up and stood, placing a hand on her hip while the other held the dirty rag away from her person and to the side.

It was quite odd seeing the Queen herself pick up a spilled drink, cleaning it off with a rag. Many Queens felt those kind of jobs were beneath them, most basic tasks being accomplished by those under them. Hell, even Xandar was guilty of putting tasks like that onto those beneath him. It was sort of… humbling, watching her clean up the mess and hop on the counter to do so. Even something so simple she seemed to do with a certain Grace, Xandar watching her as she lay on her stomach, her feet well off the ground. On her hands and knees, she seemed generally concerned if it would stain.

”Why wouldn’t you just have one of your servants clean that up? he asked genuinely, before leaning back in his seat and resting his arm on the counter. ”I’d certainly be happy to get to know one another. We can talk here or go somewhere with a bit less… tension. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have much planned the rest of my day. Maybe a conversation over breakfast?”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Servants?" She looked around the little bar which was quite deserted now. There was no one else here. Besides, she had made the mess. She shook her head, dispelling the thoughts. "Great! We have a -hmmph - table just there!" She quickly placed the rag behind the bar (with as much trouble as she had getting it) before she moved over to where her companions waited. "The grumpy one is Jassen and the other grumpy one is… Jean," she said with a giggle. She didn't know how much Jandar would like revealed considering their first meeting and so hoped she gave him the chance to properly sort that out himself. "And I'm Fatima. You were Xandar right? And what is your name Widow?"

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

Winged Boar, Aren, Askavi

There was sudden chaos that enveloped the room as soon as he walked in, and it was a lot more action than he expected this morning. First he heard the conversation between the bartender and the Black Widow, hearing him mumble something about the Queen and the Reaper. He hadn't the slightest idea what he meant until he felt a strong presence right next to him, a dark jeweled Queen sitting right next to him on the bar stool. She looked calm and confident, and there was a swagger about her that oozed power. It was quite odd though, she was a tiny thing, pretty but wearing boyish clothes and a cap as if in disguise. He didn't know many Queens that would willing come out like this, in disguise, with no more that a full squadron to prance around with. Well, that might be because The Reaper preyed upon Queens and most in his area had high security, both most were too pompous to dress in anything less than a fancy dress.

What was this Queen doing here anyhow? In this bar? Instinctively he was going to draw a weapon but he stopped himself, as she seemed... different from all the other Queens he had met. There was a warm smile on her face, and he locked eyes with her and heard her voice as she greeted them. He felt a tug on his heart, like a pulse as he felt a connection draw him to look at her, to speak to her, to be around her. It was like a rope tugging him in as he felt relaxed, even though every time he had been anywhere near a Queen he'd be on edge. For some reason he felt as though she was no harm to him, that she came in peace and that she just wanted to talk with him.

This was interrupted by the sharp tone of the Widow, who threatened him per usual as she explained in Eyrien that she was going to probe her mind like she did his. It was none of his concern what they did, as long as nobody was getting stabbed he wouldn't have to get involved. A drink and a chat seemed nice right about now. As he was about to open his mouth to say something, he sensed the Blood Opal shields pour around the bar, and the probing of the Queen's mind start to begin. No sooner than this a man clearly intoxicated lunged forward at Faeril. Keeping his eyes locked with Fatima, he put up a sapphire shield in front of Faeril as the blade stopped mere inches from it. It seemed Jandar pulled the man back, and was chewing him out for acting so rashly.

Xandar chuckled, keeping his eyes locked on Fatima as she put up her Grey shields to ward off the Blood Opal. He vanished his Ebon Grey, the necklace slipping around his neck as he felt the power course inside of him. He used the power of his Jewel to enhance his strength, before turning to Jassen. He grabbed the front of his shirt, lifting him up into the air and pinning him against the ceiling, and if Jandar would still be holding on he would get dragged as well. His bright gold eyes seemed deadly serious, looking straight into his eyes.

"Yes, that sounds like a great idea. Sit and behave you poor fool. Your friend over here was wise to stop you, or this could have gotten a lot worse. But I'm in a good mood this morning, and I don't want to trash the tavern, so I'll keep your limbs intact. You should listen to your friends, they are much wiser in their approach to not have me involved. But sadly I am now. Next time I will not be as kind." Xandar said, his head turning to Fatima, still keeping Jassen suspended. "Now, if you'll excuse me I'd like to have a chat with your Queen. I'm quite confident she can handle herself. And if either of you interfere again I'll have no seconds thoughts." he said before tossing Jassen into Jandar, letting him deal with the drunk as he sat back down and brushed off his tunic. He looked over at Fatina and smiled gently, vanishing his Ebon Grey.

"So do you dress up like that and bring drunks with you for sport, or do you have a reason for coming here your highness? I'd like to casually chat but I'm sure the Widow behind me is taking a more direct approach to your thoughts it seems. I wouldn't mind just chatting. You seem very different from many others I have met, and you have me curious. But where are my manners? Xandar Markov, and the pleasure is all mine."

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

The trip to the general store was uneventful to say the least, a older woman and a wingless lad sweeping up the place were the only other ones around. The store was layed out simple enough where he could find everything he needed pretty quickly, and the price was actually fairly low, compared to what he was used to. Before he could even ask the older woman responded to the question he was about to ask, and he was wise not to say anything else but a polite thank you as he took his items. Some coffee, cigarettes, a bit of food and odds and ends. He still had a fair bit of coin left on him, but it wouldn't last him forever. He chuckled when the younger boy complained about the Black Widow, to which he replied "She's threatened to cut off lots of my appendages, no worries. She might be tempered, but I believe she has a soft spot deeeeep down there somewhere. You're lucky to have her around. And I'm sure you'll be able to fly in your own way one day."

He gave a wink and a wave before heading across the street, groceries in hand to the tavern. He could sense that there were a lot of people in there, and some were of a higher breed than the others he had encountered in the tavern earlier, or a regular basis for that matter. But Faeril was in there, and so was Randalvar, so at least a few friendly faces were there. Not that he was worried, but if anything happened, he would sure get an earful after. Walking into the tavern with a cool swagger, he watched as several Eyrien men were on the sides of the bar, watching the people in the middle. A Queen and a Dhemian man who reeked of something higher than a Blood Opal, possibly on par with Faeril. It was hard to judge just by entering the room. Faeril looked like she was taking a drink talking to Randalvar, and he decided to ignore everybody else entirely and take a seat at the bar, setting down his groceries and leaning on the counter with a yawn.

"So, I see you're having yourself a busy morning Randalvar."