► Pesonality

Xujarek has a joyfull outlook on life, he prefers to make friends rather than enemies. He's easy to win over and influence, he tends to place trust in others too easily if they show him a kind heart. He was born into a clan that disregarded death rather easily and he grew detached from it as a result. He had lost friends in the clan but the only passing that effected him was the loss of his mother. Even then, he got over his greif easier than others in his position. It was this detachment to death that allowed him to easily settle into the Dark Brotherhood, he felt nothing after the passing of a target but the satisfation that he had finished his mission. That doesn't mean he doesn't value life, he will protect innocent by doing everything within his power, He just recovers from death easily.

► Physical Description

Dull dark brown slightly grey skin tone with hazel brown hair in a messy mohawk. Green Sclera with golden eyes, Star/ cross-shaped pupil as common with Orsimer. Large thick ears that come to study points, able to move with his expressions. Right tusk is broken at the base, will not re-grow. Scarring over left eye and back. Often wears a skull-patterned face paint. Xujarek was born a runt and will not develop fully into the body of the warriors of his clan. He will always be classed as short and small; his physic is more akin to human appearances. It is not uncommon for Orsimer males to be born small or stunted, but they are usually killed shortly after birth If underperforming. Despite the odds stacked against him, Xu’s smaller frame allows him to exceed a more agility-based battle. He is fast and agile but still adorns the sturdy bones and thick skin of his Orsimer blood. Having been born in the snowy mountains of Skyrim, his clan has developed a resistance to the cold, he is less affected by colder climates. Outfits are various versions of the Brotherhood Armor, mainly medium or light styles. In his youth, he wears the regular Brotherhood armor though as he ages he prefers a unique style along with pricing and a small beard.

► History

Xujarek was born to the clan Narzulbur in the snowy mountains of Skyrim. The stronghold has managed to survive for many generations due to its strong blood and capable warriors protecting its walls. Many Orcs are born within the stronghold, many mothers but one reining chief father. Xujarek’s mother was the Hearth-wife of the chief, Lokra, the first to stand by his side. Although she did not have the strength of those like the Forge or Hunt wives, she was the one who had more sway emotionally. She had raised many children in her time and thankfully none of them had been deemed ‘runt’ till Xujarek. She had seen the culling of children within their stronghold and didn’t want any of her children to succumb to it. The chief had ordered for Xujarek’s death only a few days after being brought into the world due to being physically smaller though the Hearth-wife protested. She stood up against the chief and begged to keep her child. Due to her importance to the clan, the Chief agreed to let her keep the child though expressed that he is washing his hands of the situation. Xujarek would not be his son, he would not have the privilege of living in the chief’s home, not be a valued warrior in their society. If he reached adulthood, he would be given the jobs of the maids or seamstress’. He would be looked at as if he were but a low-ranking female. Xujarek’s name does not mean anything special in the Orsimer language, stripped of that pride as well.

Lokra moved out of the chief’s home to raise Xujarek, living in a small hut to the side though she still had to maintain all her daily work, no time off to recover. She had to pretend as if Xujarek was never born, never mentioning his name nor his progress. Xujarek grew up rather regular, his mother was honest with him, expressing that his father was the chief but he was not ‘chosen’ to live that lifestyle. Xujarek was raised to be humble, he made the most of his situation and worked his daily duties with farming and sewing. He filled the rest of his time by drawing. His mother often slipped away to the nearby human village, she was never met with violence because she herself never acted with any. She used to pick up spare crops and sell them for coin to buy Xujarek a special treat every now and then. Usually in the form of drawing-equipment like chalk, charcoal, ink, and quills if the trade was good. They sometimes even shared a sneaky Sweetroll every now and then.

Lokra had never been able to emotionally bond with her children, they were born and raised together in a warrior upbringing. Xu was the first of her offspring to be hers and she was close to him. She bought him a blank journal though he did not use it as intended, they took it apart and learned together how to make more. They both developed their skills with general crafting through the years.

Xujarek was either ignored by his brothers and sisters or bullied by them. ‘Maid’ was used as a verbal slur against him, referencing his more maiden-lifestyle. The only sibling he got along with was another of Lokra’s children who often visited, his older sister. Being classed as a runt he was not given as much food as the others and thus is smaller frame was further stunted.

Every year the Clan would hold a Stronghold wide celebration for the group of warriors who were now of age and able to start the proper training as opposed to the minor daily routines they were used to. Xujarek grew up watching the older kids celebrate and move on, becoming warriors and filling the spaces of the ones that died in battle throughout the year. When he reached ten years of age, his year-group were due to celebrate. Xujarek knew he could do better than sewing or farming, despite being small he felt strong. He went against his mothers wishes to stay hidden for the day and instead, stood up with the others of his age who were all larger than Xujarek both in height and mass.

He had grown watching his siblings reap the benefits of being strong warriors and hunters, the special treatment they gained from the chief, the large fresh meals in the chief’s home and the comfy beds that weren’t in breezy cold huts. He felt guilty that his mother was no longer a part of that either. He wanted to prove himself, to get both of them back in the warmth of the Stronghold’s strongest building.

The chief looked down at all of his strong kin though the line of strong copies dipped at the end when Xu’s tiny form stood beside them. The chief didn’t find any amusement from the Orc’s attempts to be something he wasn’t, he only felt rage. He walked down the line with heavy footsteps, pulling out his blade and pointing it at Xujarek’s throat. The exchange of words was short ‘what are you doing here’ with the response ‘I’m your son just like them’. Xujarek didn’t quite realize what he had done until it was too late to beg forgiveness. His mother quickly rushed in and took the blow that his father had dealt for him. The blade swung down and instead of Xujarek’s throat, Lokra lost her arm.

The ceremony concluded, Lokra went through what medical attention they could offer but her condition was less than stable. The chief spared Xujarek for the time being but it wasn’t over. A few silent days passed, Xujarek took care of his mother as she rested. It wasn’t unusual for their Stronghold to be attacked but this time was different. Under the cover of night, the humans struck again. The chief sent out all his strongest warriors outside to battle though didn’t expect the turn of situations. The group of humans out front was only a distraction for the ambush that pulled in from the side. The human warriors swept through the regular Orsimer population, what little already remained. Xujarek tried to defend himself and his mother though with no battle-training, there was little he could do. His mother encouraged him to hide. He hid under the bed and watched the bandits slaughter Lokra.

He laid there, silently sobbing as he met the gaze of his dead parent, the only one who supported him throughout his life. Come morning the true extent of the damage could be seen. The regular living-huts had been destroyed, farmers slaughtered. The chief quickly went to check on his wife, the scene brought him deep sorrow that was followed by intense rage when he noticed Xujarek under the bed mats. The shadow of the night might have covered him but in broad daylight, he was more than noticeable. The chief grabbed Xujarek by the hair, pulling him out over his mother and dragging him to the snow. He threw the young orc down and pulled out his mace. He spoke with a loud voice, surrounded by the bodies of the weaker and the surviving clan. He ordered execution for allowing the death of a clan-member, cowardly avoiding battle. He swung his mace but Xujarek pulled back in time. The spikes scratching up the young Orc’s face over his eye. Xujarek fell back from the force of the hit and managed to scramble to his feet. He knew he had to run, he had no other choice and he lost the last thing tying him to his home.

He made a run for it, his father manages to get in one last hit on his back, slicing down his shoulder. Xujarek sobbed as he ran but at least his agility held out on him. He scaled down the mountain and stumbled into the snow but continued forward. He ran till his legs weakened, buckled under him and failed. He whimpered in the snow, managing to find an old cave to rest in. He knew his wounds wouldn’t remain fresh and non-infected for long, it was only a matter of time, he needed to find help. He was too far away to back-track to the human village and he didn’t know if his father was still out there.

He rested for the night before continuing forward. Eventually, he stopped at an old shack, he begged for help, but the place had been long abandoned. He was too weak to continue and laid to rest in the questionable shelter of the house. He was unaware he had stumbled into the regular interrogation shack of the Brotherhood, or at least until Astrid found him. She had no time to kick him out between her initiations and Xujarek weakly watched as they murdered a man after questioning. She could have killed him, easily, but he didn’t seem entirely phased by their actions, he didn’t even comment or protest killing the man. He remained quiet and she liked that. She knew his condition was bad, he had maybe another day or two on his own, but they had their sanctuary to fix him up. She gave him an offer, Die here…Or accept Sithis as his lord and savior and join the Brotherhood.

Xujarek agreed, he couldn’t say no to shelter and assistance. Astrid carried him back to the Sanctuary where he spent a week in a recovery bed before being able to stand up and meet the rest of his new family. Xujarek spent the rest of his life within that building, he was young and impressionable and was able to be molded into whatever type of initiate they needed. He grew up with a great appreciation for the Brotherhood, remained loyal and true to his family. It was only a few months after his acceptance that he was allowed along on assassinations, he showed promise. He was happy with all the other Brotherhood members, he did anything he could to help, even with the smallest task he was happy to assist.

Xujarek was given training there, having not had any weapon training in the past, they had to experiment with him and find out where his skills laid. Despite being an Orc, his small frame wouldn’t allow him to use the heavy weapons his species would usually be accustom to. Instead, Xujarek found himself with a fondness for bows.

It wasn’t until years later that Xujarek began to develop the Night Mother’s gift, being able to hear her comments. He thought nothing of it until the night he ended up locked inside her tomb. She spoke to him and although he was praised for the gift, it was an addition he never wanted. He never felt the same after that night, the experience seemed to change him, only minor but he was a tad quieter, he whistled less when walking down the halls. Sometimes a ‘yes’ was replaced with a nod.

As the years passed, nothing much came of the Night-Mothers gift, he had researched old tomes and had found that it wasn’t an exclusive ability. Multiple people could hear her though only one per sanctuary could be classed as a listener. Xujarek loved his service to Sithis, though Listener was not his preferred job preference. He had his plans to find another suitable for taking his place. Another voice that wasn’t welcome was the addition of dragons. Xujarek had an assassination planned at Whiterun around his sixteenth birthday. On the travel there, he witnessed the attack of a dragon on guards. It wasn’t his issue, he shouldn’t have been involved, he should have turned back and left but there was something about it. He moved closer wanting to see the dragon, see something up close that he thought was long since dead. He only reached for his bow when the dragon noticed him on the ground. It was already weak; the soldiers had managed to chip away at it while hiding from its fire. Xujarek’s shot wasn’t anything amazing. He managed to get an arrow in the throat which just happened to tip the beast over to fall. It landed on the ground and gurgled as it bled out, the soldiers took it down from there quickly with various stabs. As it died its soul left its body and rushed towards the small Orsimer.

Xujarek fell from the force and blacked out for a minute or so. When he opened his eyes, he was surrounded by the guards who expressed their interest in him as something called ‘The Dragonborn’. At this point, Xujarek just wanted to go home, he didn’t want this, he didn’t want any of it. He was taken to Whiterun and escorted to Dragonsreach where he met the Jarl of Whiterun. Xujarek was respectful, he had to be, he had the Brotherhood armor on in a place of security. He did a task for the Jarl but then vanished, he ran. He didn’t want to be a part of that, he already didn’t want to accept the Night Mothers blessing, he just wanted to live his life in as much peace as he could. He painted his face and attempted to make his way back to the Brotherhood. He knew they wouldn’t be pleased with his failed assassination, but it was better than being a servant to the Jarl.

Xujarek eventually returned to the sanctuary after another scuffle with the law and a certain cart-ride to a dragon. He mentioned nothing about the dragon or the soul, he never said a word about it. He wanted to ignore that it happened and continue with his life.Xujarek had assumed he was in the clear, nothing had gone wrong for a while. He was starting to cheer up around the Sanctuary…and then it hit, or rather- they did. The brotherhood was set on fire, the battle raged in and around it. Xujarek didn’t know what to do, he was trapped mostly but insisted on helping the others. He received the Blade of Woe from Astrid but quickly moved on without grief. He assisted Cicero in escaping with the Night Mother, managing to get her coffin into the back of a cart and strapping it up to the loyal Night-beast, Shadowmere. Thankfully they were covered by the chaos. Xujarek ran back inside to try and aid those who survived but only found corpses. He stuttered and hesitated before the flames grew too violent. He ran out and caught up with the cart, jumping on and looking back as Shadowmere started a full gallop away.

Future: Xujarek eventually rebuilds the Dark Brotherhood, under his leadership. He recruits and trains many initiates and brings the family back from the brink of extinction. He does manage to pass on the gift of the Night Mother, his head has never felt more at peace once she had a new Listener. He uses the new Listener to get the names which he then assigns to his Brotherhood. // It is unknown what Xujarek does about the Dragonborn gift currently.