Active Xander Raekin Irils | The Human Embodiment of a Q-tip

[A tin can]

[Reuploaded cuz' thread was being glitchy ;-;]

| Name |
Xander R'aekin Irils
| Full Titles |
Nope.
| Nickname/Alias |
Xan​

| Key Facts |​

Age: 22
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Social Status: Meh.
Sexuality: Hetero-row-row your boat!
Height: 6'0
Weight: 195 lbs
Date of Birth: Unknown.
Date of Death: Not yet.
Homeland: Xander is known to mention a place named 'Le'ari'
Current Home: Riseport / Havonen

| Physiology |​

Build: Xander is of average build, his body decently well-toned through years of manual labor and dueling.

Hair: Dark brown, thick, and growing long.

Eyes: Green. One lighter than other. An extremely unknown fact, he is color-blind in one eye. Small specks of yellowish-brown litter his iris.

Identifying Marks: A lighter left eye. A large, branch-like scar covers his his right arm while three formal straight cuts cover his left shoulders. More intricate tribal-like tattoos mark his chest, usually hidden. Along with such, his back is lined with many traces of scars. Near his lower abdomen rests a jagged wound, a slash mark. Upon his left arm lies a scar, which appears similar to a crack or a web. It reaches from his shoulder down to wrist, quite intricately carved into his skin. Near the scar lies a dark tattoo, an insignia inked into his skin. Upon his right arm's shoulder lies three diagonal scars, more formal cuts. Quite farther down, in his palm, is a delicately made tattoo that labels him a heretic. This tattoo is nearly always hidden under his dueling glove.

Skin: Lightly tanned, surprisingly soft, save for his callused knuckles.

Appearance: Xander holds the posture of a gentleman, usually kept straight and smooth. His chin and jaw are quite sharp and chiseled, softer features near his cheeks. His arms are quite vein-y, noticeable when his hands are lowered. His face is also prized with a short stubble, usually freshly shaven- part of his daily routine. His eyes seem to be slightly tired, every now and then resting for several minutes. This is due to his long-lasting paranoia, not getting too much sleep during the night.

Clothing: Xander wears a grey and beige combat robe, allowing him easy access to movement as well as slight protection in areas against far-ranged and weak arrows. He wears boots plated with silver, and a red cloth around his chest, which sheathes most of his blades. Two leather guards protect his forearms, thick enough to save from a decently strong opponent. Strapped along with his belt is a sword belt with near six simple sheathes, two stacked atop each other on both sides of his hips and two to the back. A single black glove usually covers his right hand, the fingertips abrasive while the rest of the glove is smooth leather. This glove is quite important to him, covering dark secrets from most underneath it. Steel bars line on four sides, from wrist to forearm, meant to protect the hand from amputation in battle. He tends to hide most of his weaponry and armor- usually leather, under the dark grey robe, in public.

Working as a guard in Riseport as of late, Xander will usually wear his guard uniform. Being somewhat similar to the usual clothing, it has several key difference. To start, his left armored sleeve has been stripped of its gauntlet, allowing his hand to work freely without restriction. His right has been somewhat inverted compared to the former, sleeve ripped away to allow free movement of the elbow as well as a gauntlet strapped tight to his hand. Simple brown trousers match with a somewhat thick shirt, usual white undershirt underneath. To complete the attire, a cloak hangs from his shoulders- end of the material ripped away for various other uses.

Weaponry: At any time, Xander will be carrying a small arsenal of which he has practiced vigorously with.
While these may vary at times, his usual loadout consists of four blades.

| Prox | A sabre quite near and dear to Xander's heart, it was the first weapon he'd been able to correctly smith, with help of his mentors, and is kept to the left of his sheathe belt at all times.
| Ji | Quite a simple hand-axe, its blade weighted to be thrown if needed. A name is carved into the handle of the weapon, one that if which spoken will freeze Xander in his tracks.
| Skree | A curved kukri, around a foot and a half in length.
| Bella | A seax. A seax? A seax. More of a tool than a weapon, he'll usually use it to prepare food, chop higher grass, this and that.

Prized Possessions: The people that put up with his crap, his talents and skills.

Hygiene: Average. Smells faintly of the sea, relying on the saltwater to clean him most of the time. His breath will smell of cinnamon and mint, being the two materials he'd use to keep his pearly whites clean. Around halfway through the day, his breath will begin to smell more grain-y, a shot of whiskey to keep him stable.

Voice: Erhm... Manly? For specifics, let's see... Xander's voice is a strange mix of a french and british accent, along with quite a bit of pirate slang around those he trusts due to his time spent on the seven seas!~
The best reference I could give would be a mix of Arno Dorian and Captain Jack Sparrow. His tone varies at times from fruity and clear to hoarse and venomous, all depending on whom he's speaking with and just how well his day's been going. While decently articulate, he usually spits his words quite fast as to get everything out of his head as soon as he can.

| Qualities & Flaws |​

Strengths:
| Swordsmanship/blademanship | Spending several years assisting on the vessel of a 'privateer', as well as a fight-club style business, his swordsmanship is decently sharpened.
| Archery | Quite a basic skill, he has learned to use the bow and arrow quite efficiently.
| CQC | Being a fighter, he had to learn soon enough how to handle himself without a length of metal to aid him.
| Blacksmithing | What's there to say? While not at all a legendary smith, or even an average one, he's capable of pulling out a good dagger now and then.
| Sturdy/Agile | While not at all a master with his footwork, he's decently quick on a heel.
| Simple medicine | Not much to say, really. He's basic knowledge in treating stab and cut wounds, as well as logical medicinal ideas he'd gathered through previous history.
| Also proficient in... |
~ Climbing
~ Sailing

Fears:
| Amnesia | The thought of losing all he's learned and seen from something as simple as head trauma, it gives him a good shudder.
| Immobility | Xander tries to rely on no one but himself, and a large fear of his is being unable to move. Be it a tight space or a crippling blow, he'll be reluctant to lose part of him.
| Corruption/corrupted | Something he's seen occur every now and then, power getting to a person's head. Xander fears that those he does attempt to help and befriend will one day take a turn for the worse.
| Fiery death | Having your skin and muscles burnt and feeling every last moment until eventually your nerves burn out? Nope.
| Watery grave | While he'd take this over burning to death, Xander fears any large bodies of water. It's not that he cannot swim, but his time spent on the seas has imprinted a strange mix of hatred and fear of not being able to see the horizon.

Weaknesses:
| Merciful | When having to choose between offense and defense, Xander will nearly always protect himself instead of attempting to strike a killing blow. Unless he's struck with bloodlust, usually due to seeing and/or hearing of someone close to him passing, he will attempt to incapacitate his opponent at the most.
| Easily manipulated| Xander's soft spot is people. As he wishes to protect the friends around him, he is easily used and manipulated by them. This could easily lead to his demise, unable to bare seeing those around him disappointed.
| Cocky | Amidst anything that involves showing off his skillset, he will prod and humor himself and any crowds with small insults and cocky movements. Depending on whom he's with, this can easily lead to his demise.
| Long Weaponry | Meh, too hard to maneuver. With Xander's fighting style, he cannot fight efficiently with any weaponry longer than 45 inches.
| Heavy Weaponry | Along with the longer weaponry, his fighting style with heavier blades can be quite rough, varying depending on exactly how much the weapon weighs.
| Emotion-first | While some head into a scenario with a logical mind, Xander follows his heart- or, well, scientifically, brain, in most situations. This can easily lead to him doing something that could be deemed wrong or unethical.
| Stubborn | When Xander's mind settles on something, it's likely to stay.
| Blunt weaponry | While he's unsure himself, Xander blames his inability to properly handle blunt weaponry on his fighting style, as it is composed of shallow cuts and stabs.

Hobbies: While not exactly strengths- nor weaknesses, Xander has a knack for several more commonplace things. Always good to have a skilled hobby!

| Music | Being a bit rusty, Xander had taken up a few instruments to fill his time as a child- and through worse situations. These include the harpsichord, the wheel fiddle, and some quite horrible sounding viol.
| Exercise | Being a slight man's man, Xander will attempt to keep himself as toned as he can be, mostly for appearance, whenever he has the time.
| Sparring | Well, he's a duelist. Makes sense, no?
| Cooking | Not exactly a Gordon Ramsey when it comes to cooking, Xander still enjoys making whatever food he can, experimenting with spices, this and that.~

Intelligence: In the words of a disappointed parent... 'He has potential. Just doesn't push himself.' Several years of home school have taught him specific categories of knowledge including advanced reading and writing, basic medicine, and a small amount of knowledge on anatomy.

Language: Common!

Profession: A jack of all trades!

| Ethics & Motivations |​

Personality: The years have affected Xander's personally plenty, but he has always maintained a kindheartedness towards the innocent. When facing someone, his first worry is of their health. While he's selfless in such ways, he will also approach each individual with a steady hand on the handle of his blade. A paranoia developed through several years of loss, he will act quite wary to many he does not know but nevertheless treat with kindness. Due to the loss he has experienced, his worry of losing more loved ones plagues him with fear of them leaving him.

Religion or Cults: Heretic.

Alignment: Usually a mix of chaotic good and a sliiiight hint of lawful evil, sometimes lawful good.

Biggest Secret: "Erhm... Well, I was a fighter, after all. And, as a fighter- and slave, I had been expected to work without any distractions available. Anything that could end up making me think twice, or plan for the future. Things like... children, yeah? It's not that the fighters weren't allowed children, no, not at all. They simply... Attempt to prohibit it. Through heavier means.
It hurt. Extremely. Though, I had to have it. Nearly died from the horribly crude procedure. Thank the Gods we had some medicine t'numb it. Nearly a week after, I was still stuck in that bed. Unable to stand, barely able to speak. They nearly tossed me into a hole because I couldn't fight. Gah, this isn't... how can I say this...

Well, in the simplest terms, I'm infertile. Unable to have a child. Not another Irils to be born. I'm the last one."

Short Term Goals:
| Find a larger house |
| Find a job that allows him to travel |
Long Term Goals:
| Learn more about 'magic' |
| Protection for his beloved |

| Trivia |​

Favourite...
Place: "Oh, the all-famous sparring circle."
Pastime: "Talks by the tavern counters. Only the counters, for some reason."
Food: "If food is prepared for me, I'm not one to bicker."
Drink: "Whiskey. A nice, still glass of whiskey."
Colour: "Something about darker purples are quite easy on the eye."
Animal: "No animal compares to the beauty of the wolf."

Least Favourite...
Place: "The north. Anywhere cold, in fact. Doesn't go well with my skin."
Pastime: "Anything that has to do with nobility. Nothing worse than politics, aye?"
Food: "Nothing with too much salt."
Drink: "Anything with too little alcohol. I'm fine with too much, or none at all, but... nngh."
Color: "Gah.. For reasons I do not know, I cannot stand light yellow."
Animal: "Snakes."

Pet Peeves:
~ Heroes, those who attempt to lead for fame.
~ Unearned nobility
~ Muddy boots
~ Any change of his hairstyle
~ For some reason, any name that's less than four letters.

Thoughts on...
Gods: "I've lived twenty-five years without them, no need for 'em now. They stick to what they do, I stick to what I do."

Other races: "It's great to see all united with one another, no matter the traits. Thank god, it's far different than home."

Nobility: "Psh. I'm fine with the higher-class, so long they're not snobs. Never met a high-class man without that trait. I'd much rather be poor and easy-going than rich as can be and as snobbish as a God.

Marriage: "Am I ready to be married? Seems as if everyone I've known as settled down, but it seems so strange to live like that. What if I chose the wrong person? Or they were hurt and I couldn't stop it? Maybe if I could find someone who'd be up for an adventure alongside me, that'd be wonderful.."

Slaves: "If I ever meet a slave owner, I swear to the Gods that I'll have 'is head on a stick. Nothing worse than a man who forces men."

Nature: "Nothing I've ever seen could be considered more beautiful than Mother Nature. Walking through a forest, if you're quiet enough, you can see- no, feel the presence of life all around. Deer sipping from their lakes, birds chirping to their mates. It's a wonderful feeling."

[Credits to Faelin for the initial character profile format]​

 

[A tin can]

| Relationships |​

Loved (Romantic) --> Loved (Platonic) --> Trusted --> Befriended! --> Liked --> Neutral --> Wary --> Disliked --> Hated --> Missed --> Unnerved

Virtigo : "Erhm... Anything I can do t'help?"
~ Xander has taken a liking to Virtigo that he feels strange explaining. While quite unnerved and slightly denying the full weight of their relationship, he is quite protective of her- as well as extremely envious of any others who end up spending time with her. If given the chance to, he will usually attempt to show off in her presence as well as spend as much time as he can with.


Jakos : "Bah, a good lad! Hope t'sail wit' 'em soon!"
~ Jakos, one of Xander's first 'friends' in Riseport. Being a coworker and sailor, Xander feels quite at ease with him, and will usually allow his thicker sailor's accent to show. He enjoys speaking of one another's life and views while they work, seeing Jakos as being quite similar to him in some ways.

Vaziel : "He seemed a smart man. Smart can be dangerous."
~ While Xander has only spoken with Vaziel once, he feels as if he learned more than enough through his first sparring encounter with him. While he'd seemed a friendly man when not angered, he was shown that not exactly all people like him- giving enough reason to be wary. Nevertheless, he sees Vaziel as a great duelist, and respects him for his skill.

Gabe : "Uhm... C-could I have done anything?

 

[A tin can]

| Backstory |

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He had not wanted to leave, but it had not really been a choice.
The narrow and curving alleyway radiated the sound of his boots as they pounded against, running as far as he could. The puddles splashed, the pebbles fell. It would've seemed quiet to most, but it slammed like drums in his ears.
A recurve bow. A roll of cloth. A hunting knife. Thirty coins. He lived off of it for nearly two months before the event that caused it all. And thank all his Gods that it did.

For every nest, there is a bird. And for every alleyway, there is a thief. A lurker, a predator waiting to strike. It didn't matter the lad's age, he had ended up in this lurker's alley. This bird's nest. And so, like any bird would, it began to feed on its worm.

A very short moment after, the worm was strewn on the cobble. Thick, dark blood pooling from... He couldn't be sure from where. He wasn't sure of everything. Oh, how his head hurt. His vision continuing to fade and drift, it was nothing one could compare to sleep. As if his mind- no, his soul began to drift through space. And with an hour passed, he was... He was gone. Aiden Evellon was gone, banished. No longer to hurt a soul.
And a new, different monster was born in that alley.

A blank slate.

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Xander R'aekin Irils had been known previously by the name Aiden Evellon before several incidents which would soon lead to such a change in name.

Aiden Evellon was born in a small village, a three-room house, crying as his father held him with pride. His screaming would soften into a confused hum and hard breath, the first he'd taken with the new lungs.

The first few years of his life were as decent as most other children, cared for by his mother and toughened up a bit by his father. His schooling began at the age of four, with his mother teaching him common knowledge about writing, reading, and other such.

Three years after, at age seven, his father took him for the first hunt of his life. While he didn't touch the bow, he was fascinated with how his father could so easily sneak up on a deer, and ease it into death just as swift. It amazed him how his father could so easily down the animal. Father told him one day, he might learn as well. Continue the family tradition. And so, he began to read about it, slowly gathering information.

It was near age nine he'd finally used his first bow. A recurve, small and cracked made by his father. He'd show amazing talent with the tool, yet he'd be unable for most powerful shots due to his weak figure.

Age ten, his father came crawling into the house, with assistance of a fellow hunter, weighted down by a broken ankle. He had fallen down a hill during his hunt, and would likely be unable to stand for quite a while do to the horrid break. Aiden's mother estimated it be near a month before he'd be able to even limp. To survive, they would most likely need to delve into what little spare coin they had. Upon hearing this, Aiden snatched his bow and rushed outside. He'd run out the walls, and into the forests. His step slowed, panting. He begins to hunt as he saw his father do so many times, and he only came home the night after. Dragging a bloodied fawn and four hares behind him, his multi-colored eyes appeared bloodshot. From then on, he would hunt. Even after his father's return, he'd continue to hunt. Slowly gathering coin for his family, slowly learning more and more.

Though, it hadn't been enough. While his parents lured him to believe such, they were making quite... horrid deals with the groups of their village and neighboring ones. But so long he didn't know, they had been a happy family. And Aiden was given pride.

Age fifteen. Aiden would come home after a hunt, slipping as he walk into the door frame. He'd take a moment on the floor before standing, palms pushing against the floor. As he stood, he felt his fingers together. Blood. Not that of an animal, it was a lot less... Viscous. Rushing to check for his family, he steps into the kitchen to uncover a horror.

Absolutely nothing. The room was completely quiet, and with due time he would find the others to be as soundless as the one he stood in. So, he sat in wait. A day, two, it had been three days before a note arrived on the doorstep of the home.

While even he barely remembers the words foretold in the letter, he remembers what they stated. Simple, his parents had owed... quite a lot, to say the least. And so, they had to go.
It was a week later that the home's food had been all but finished before Aiden decided.
He had to go, too.

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"Tell me, son. What did you feel?"
Xander sat on the oak floorboards, too tired to shiver. A month had past, and nothing but confusion had come along with it. They had caught him, finally. Hundreds of days running from home, yet he had never expected his own crewmates to take the bounty.
Well, he kind of did.
They were pirates, after all.
His captain, Terel, paced back and forth, boots sloshing in the water which had found its way into the hull. A large smirk covered the man's face, each glance at it sending more pain into the young man's heart. He had trusted Terel, he had been taken under the man's arm as if a son. He was so hurt, in fact, that he didn't want to believe it.

"Tell me it was Xavier."
It took the man a long minute to croak the request, to which the captain continued pacing for several more moments. From the side of Xander's view, he saw what could've been pain in the old man's eyes. Guilt. It immediately disappeared, followed by a hurtful chuckle.
"Nay, lad. Pirates will pirate, yeah? I would've found out about a bounty."
He would've sobbed, but Xander had run out of tears. Any bodily fluids he once had, already excreted. A month in the water did that to a person, and they'd only ever fed him scraps of fruits. Buuuuut, orange peels were quite a delicacy on the seas.
Instead, Xander gritted his teeth as the captain walked out, and several men slinked in. While Terel pained him mentally, the shipmates were plenty worse.

Several fun-filled minutes of spitting, punching and near-drowning, they had finally gotten bored and left to envelop themselves in booze, leaving Xander curled in a small ball surrounded by seawater, blood, piss, and puke.

"Get up, lad."
His eyes stayed shut, knowing that they had likely arrived.
"Don't make this harder than it needs to be."
He felt himself rolled over, but stayed curled in a ball.
"They're waiting up there. We can see th' shore."
Terel waited one more minute, sighed, and bent down to pick him up.
Xander opened an eye, and a small tinge of regret swept his body.

The sound of a piece of driftwood slamming against skin echoed in the lower hull, before the old man fell to the floor. Still breathing. As the broken child worked to nudge himself out from underneath, he could feel the weak grip of Tenel attempting to hold him. While he was weak, it wasn't too hard to pull himself away from the man. Plucking the driftwood club from his shoulder, he limped, hobbled, scampered, and crawled up the stairs. It was as he expected. Tracking the time through each shipmate visit, he had come up during dinner. His weak figure fit perfectly under the windows as he crawled toward the port. He dropped to the seat of the ballista, huffing. Thankfully, his wounds had closed before he had left. His weak and bony hands felt for the rope that always lay at the side of the ballistae. His fingers tied the rope around his waist, a weak pull to fix the rope. He'd fix a small noose-tie out of the other side of the rope, and crawled up to the railings to adjust the rope over the bolt of the ballista.

Screaming, just behind him. Someone had gotten to Tenel.
"Damn.."
He wouldn't allow himself to be beaten again. He couldn't. If they took him, he'd only end up hurting more. So, he threw himself over the side. The strain up the rope against his stomach knocked the wind clear out of him, but it held. He couldn't let it. Bloodied fingers clinging into the wood of the ship, his eyes shut as his body burned. He needed it to stop.

His fingers slowly lost grip, and all went blank as he felt the splash of seawater at his toes.

"The Evellon kid. Yeah, that one."
His eyes opened, blinking several times before attempting to raise himself. No use. Two leather straps kept his hands down, and he yelped in pain. His whole body was sore, his wrists bloodied, likely from his movements during sleep.
"What are you, a monster? Of course I'm no-..."
The door to the room slowly opened, and Xander took the moment to examine his surroundings before staring into the eyes of his new keeper. His eyes blinked to the nursery surrounding him. The walls painted with light brown and blue accents, a crude bed opposite of him.
"Want some water?"

His head snapped back to the figure, followed by a throbbing pain in his temple. Through fuzzy vision, he saw a small lady holding a tray of bread and a jug of water.
His eyes blinked once, before his brow furrowed in confusion.
"It's... It's good, yeah? Can you eat?"
He shuddered, a weak nod from his head as the girl fluffed her dress and sat next to him. He'd attempt to reach for the food, but his hands shivered against the cuffs keeping him to the wall.
"O-oh.. Apologies."
His eyebrow raised a small millimeter, confused. Was she afraid of him? Several nibbles of bread and a choke on water later, he spoke.
"I didn't mean to hurt them."
She nodded, but her hands were still shaky. His head slowly pivoted slightly.
"I didn't. I loved my Ma."
"I love mine too. I understand."
It was scary, to him at least. Someone who hadn't wanted to cash in a bounty, it felt as if she may have been a criminal too. But no, as illogical as he wanted to think, her clothes were far better tailored than a runaway.

She'd continue feeding him until the bread had become crumbs, the water had become droplets. And then she'd leave. For several days, nothing but that. Every few hours- or what he believed to be hours, judging from the closed curtains, she would arrive after a small scuttle outside the door with a tray of fresh grain, fruit, and even once a bowl of raspberries. His body slowly felt energy leaking back into it with each passing day. Around a week along, a larger man stepped in.

"Are you feeling better, kid?"
He nodded, a grateful bow of his head.
"Ah, good... Explain all of it, please."
And so, Xander told him about everything. Every horrid event, from the beginning to the ship to the thief to the escape. The husky man continued to ask questions, which Xander would croak a reply. Things about his family, his crew, his home. A while later, the man stood from his crouch in front of Xander.
"I will... I'll let you stay with us for now, kid."
A head poked from the doorframe, the girl who had fed him each day smiling.
The man would carefully remove the leather cuffs, and nod to a dresser near the bed.
"Clothes in there. Might be... small."

Xander stood, dizzied, and waited for the man to leave before stepping to the dresser. The clothes were, in fact, small. Although, they had fit against his skin loosely after so little food for so long.
A knock on the door.
"May I step in?"
His eyes darted to the door, and stepped along the floorboards to greet the lady. As this was the first time he'd seen her in the light of the outside, he realized that he was quite.. Stunning. She'd come from a tribal village of sorts, from what he could tell of her skin. Her features sharp yet gentle, eyes a gleaming brown.
"I can.. eat now, yeah?"
It was the best he could come up with in the moment, voice still pained by the lack of nutrition. She'd giggle, a happy snort which she'd hide directly after. Her hands held two plates of larger cuisine than before, a chicken leg and heap of rice.
"Well then, feed yourself."

His body slowly but surely recovered, and so his old habits came back. The father of the girl, which he'd come to know as Tess and Jin, had allowed him to hunt in the small wooded section of their farm. With time, he slowly learned more and more about them. The family had been torn apart after the pregnancy of Jin's wife, who had sadly passed during labor along with his son, leaving him to raise Tess on his own. But, they still had each other. It was a bond Xander adored, and each day he went to hunt was another day he pondered if he could ever be in such a bond.

A month after his arrival, Xander had practically become part of their family. Jin's new son, although the man would never admit it. Xander sat in his room one day, tidying up his equipment and whatnot. Hearing the sound of wood against wood, his head snapped to the door frame to see Jin standing with a platter of food in one hand.
"Erh, aye, kid. How are you liking the place..?"
"It's nice. Thank you."
"Good, good. Still wanting to get on your way soon?"A shrug from Xander.
"Well, I've talked with Tess. We've decided.. Well, stay as long as you need to."
That brought out a shining grin from the lad, nodding.
"That'd be amazing. Thank you, Jin."
The father-figure would smile right back before continuing on his way to the kitchen.
Weeks turned into months, and months into nearly a year before Xander had done wrong. A few months passed, and Xander discovered Jin's birthday was approaching, just as the animals were heading to hibernate. He'd want a final hunt before, a chance for big game to feed his new family before they relied on their stock. His body had turned back to what it was, and he was proud to finally be himself again. So, he with the help of the bow Jin had bought him and the warm clothes he had tailored, Xander begun work to track.

A lone deer, beautifully leaping across brush and logs. He had tracked it for near four hours, continuing to prepare his shot but always hesitating. It was exactly where he wanted it now, and they both understood. As it bent its neck down to take a final sip from the icing lake, he'd give it the moment of peace before shooting to end his trek. The shot was simple, downing the animal after only a second of pain. He'd walk over the bushes, the knife given to him by Jin pulled out to cut up the me-...

A man at the other side of the lake stared in fear, eyes wide at the lone Irils. He knew who he was. Nearly everyone in this area had seen the bounty posted up, as he had been told. Before he could attempt to speak or even, if he was panicked enough, shoot, the man ran to the direction of what Xander believed to be the town. Instead of chasing, Xander ran back home. The deer stayed still beside the lake, snow beginning to fall and stick to the clean fur.

He knew what was going to happen now. He could either hide in his family's home or run. The only way he could keep his family safe, as he decided, was running. After all, he had finally found something worth protecting.

He barged into the house, but the two had already begun work on a hiding spot for him. They had found out, the word had flown like a forest fire. Jin nodded to him and turned to gather more blankets and oak before Xander could open his mouth.
"I'm giving myself."
Tess looked at him as if it had been a joke, shaking her head in disapproval before continuing work.
"Stop, please."
"No. You need to stay."
"They'll hurt you. And Jin."
"You're part of my family now, no."
"It isn't your choice. I'm sorry."
"You can't leave us like this, you can't. We'll figure it out."
"Thank you for everything. I wish I could one day repay, but...
I need to go. Now."
She'd look at him with furious disgust, yet he couldn't meet her stare with the same. He had been the reason one family had been killed, he wouldn't allow another. A gentle smile over his face, he'd apologize once more. Her anger slowly turned into a choke, and a speckle of tears, before she'd rush to grant him a gentle and rushed peck. They lingered in the moment before he stepped away.
"I'll remember."
"If you're ever fed by anyone else, I'll kill you and her."
It'd produce a small chuckle from him, but she seemed serious. His hands found their way around her in a pained hug, a sob just arriving from his lungs. A sister to her, he was close to simply allowing himself to be caught for the few more minutes.

Jin stepped in, and with only a glance from Xander he understood.
"There's... There's a bag in the shed."
"Thank you."
"Don't forget us, you hear?"
"Couldn't dream of it."

They sat in a hug for several more minutes before Xander stepped back. His new hunting shirt stained with tears of his and theirs, he gave once more a reassuring smile.
"I'll find a way."
They'd nod, both continuing a hug. A father and his daughter, a bond Xander could never imagine. He hoped for their safety.
With a small pack on his back and a grey hood to keep him under the protection of the snow. He walked off, south from the farmstead. In the distance, he heard the horses neigh.
He couldn't bring himself to look back.

| Three months later |​

Days once more melted alongside each other, nothing but the sound of boot against snow and hoof against dirt. A month, three months pass by before he once more sees larger civilization. A bundle cabin, one that reminded him all too well of his past home. He shook his head, and passed it without a word. Few hours later, he passes another cluster of homes. The buildings would grow in size and density as he stepped further, and before he knew it he was surrounded by hustle. Busy streets, carriages, merchants, the sounds of it all confused him. He kept walking.

He'd come up to a small inn near the outskirts of the city, and rented a closet-sized room for the night. As he rested his head on the itchy hay-filled pillow, his mind wouldn't give any peace. Sleep didn't come often to him these days. Patting his pillow down once more, he swore he could hear a scream. Unsure if it had been his lack of sleep or real, he stepped outside to investigate. Coming to the block left of the inn, he saw the source of the voice. A small figure lay fetal, surrounded by two large leather-clad figures Xander presumed to be guards. Upon closer examination, he saw the crouched figure to be a child, the guards barely older. Withing hearing range, it was obvious this was abuse of power. Having none of that, Xander decided to walk away from the spectacle. Best he didn't attract more attention. As he took a step away, he felt his body dampen. The smartest choice he had, and was choosing, was of course filling him with guilt. A quick shake of his head, Xander turned once more around and plucked his recurve from his belt. As the bowstring was pulled, he felt the two guards tense up.

"Don't turn around, don't speak. Look to your left and walk. Please."
And so they complied, stepping reluctantly away from the child and leaving. The small boy, a dirtied peasant as Xander could now see, nodded his gratitude and scampered away. With a firm nod, Xander turned once more.
And was greeted by an iron-suited wall.

Thank his Gods, Xander had met the head of the town's guards. A burly man by the name of Heathcliff. The man had, of course, arrested Xander for his weapon out. But after a while of interrogation, deceit, and near-bribery, Xander was once more headed to his inn with Heathcliff accompanying. The man had not spoken nearly the entire time, except for a few tidbits of a deep voice as he explained the scene during the interrogation and stood behind the door. Nearing the same block that he had been caught, the man had finally spoken.
"Get out soon."
It was strange, and Xander knew it. A warning? A threat? He spoke as if he was the one to be fearful, but it made no sense. So, Xander spoke the one thing he could.
"Huh?"
"Get out. By tomorrow night."
As Xander pondered his next remark, Heathcliff had swiveled on a heel and walked back as they stepped in view of the inn door, leaving him with an estranged feeling.

The next day had went as the last, although Xander had taken several few extra precautions. A stone shank lay in his boot, and he was on his way to buy few more arrows. With each passing corner, it felt as if things slowed down before his eyes. He felt it, eyes poking into him, calculating his movements as he had learned to calculate others. His pace rushed, and his head dipped.
Mind yourself, mind your damn business. Come on, Xander.
He'd buy the arrows after a wary conversation with the aged fletcher before sneaking through several alleyways to return to the inn. Nearing his block, his eye caught the window of a tavern.
Mm..
The last time Xander had taken a drink had been nearly a year ago, a large bottle shared among several dazed young 'aquaintances' at an uninvited party. Ever since, he'd felt the strange longing for substance to rid his thoughts. A quick dip in through the doorframe, plop of several coins and snatch of a bottle later, he was lying in the inn once more with a bottle of red wine in his grip. With the booze, of course, his thoughts slowly jumbled into a mashed thought before becoming only a buzz of lulling thought.
He slept.

​

[TBC]
Whenever this writer's block fades nnngh​

 

[A tin can]

Bah, one last reserve since I'm likely going to be typing up paragraph after paragraph of unnecessary information.