Xavius

Xavius looks very odd for a pendragon, mostly he resembles a draconic form. His face has no muzzle, and a very serpentine nose. His narrow angled eyes contain firey red iris'.Within those iris' a constant emition of hate. A terrible, emense feel of hate. But at the same time, his eyes carry a look of dark intellegnece. He has two small holes for ears, and as a result of such, he is under average in that regard. There are no visible lips on his face, his mouth is simply thin, long gash upon his face. His teeth, shining white and sharp like daggers. His skin, tight against his face causeing a rather gaunt visage.

Xavius Is more slender then most males, and while not weak he will rely more on his speed and cunning. He walks on two legs and is quite fast, although due to an accident during childhood his wings were torn off and his right leg is forever maimed. It will, on ocaision, unexpectedly cause him great amounts of pain, greatly weakening his physical efforts. His body consists mainly of dark black and grey scales. However he does have fur on parts of his body here and there. Very thin fur on the top of his head and on the back of his hands. His tail is thin and draconic barely touching the ground. Finger-length spikes protrude through the skin of his shoulders, and whatever clothing he wears. A creature of habit Xavius often caries around a cruel black cane with a dark sphere as its head. Blood red runes cover the loathsome orb.

Xavius is only 6'3", However he wear black metal boots that give him a little more height. Hands constantly clad in black gauntlets, thick claws three inches long end his reptilian fingers. He is always enshrouded in a pitch black cloak and robe with a hood over his head. Xavius also wears a white mask almost resembling some type of skeletal figure. Except no mouth and only two holes for the eyes are on the mask. His crimson eyes burn through the shining mask. Over the many years his clothing and cane have absorbed much dark energies from his constant studying and use of such arts, giving his dark abilities an extra boost. Upon his left shoulder sits his red tattoo. A circle of dark looking mask gazeing from behind a unholy tower.

Xavius Acheron, a man of the dark. His heart is as corrupt as they come. In truth he has always been evil through out his adult life. Minus one small period of time. Wether it be a mental defect or a problem with birth he has never seen the difference of right and wrong. In some ways he is ashamed of his appearance and keeps his tail hidden under his clothing and generally the rest of himself shrouded in black cloth. He often dislikes his first name being used. Therefore he demands to be called Acheron. His hate to the world is simply that the hate one shows to a broken tool or toy. He believes that every pendragon is insane in some small form or another. He regards society as pitiful and flawed. Cruel and oppressing to those under his command he shows no mercy when it comes to advancing up the ladder of success. He is a quick thinker and often one to try and turn a situation to his advantage. He dislikes differences in someways. He has decided a world of conformity and order is better.

His dark personality has kept most people away from him. Whenever he wanders through a populated area people keep their distance. As if he lets off a threatening aura of unease. On the most part he uses people for selfish purposes befriending them on false pretences. On occasion however he will find it fit to approach someone and befriend the individual, even if only temporarily. His constant thirst for knowledge, power and darkness feed his passion for his daily routines. Constantly does he tinker with the darker powers. He is very quick to anger and even quicker to act. However through his dark life for some unknown reason there are times when one might say sadness cross his eyes and even a distant, compassionate longing for something or someone. And sometimes, if a person reminds him of that someone, he seems to have more of a respect towards them.

History:

Born in the Manik Swamplands, Xavius Acheron's appearance was a bit shocking to his parents. People would always say that it was a disease that caused Xavius to look like he did. He was as a child. He was feard and hated. But what infuriated him the most was the pity. His parents, despite his oddity, loved him dearly. They treated him as all parents should. And in return he grew close to them. But even then, his heart was darkened. Eclipsed by the spite shown to him by others. Although he loved his parents he hated everything else. It was but a few days after his sixth birthday when he started getting dreams. Dreams of malecient voices promising power. "From darkness, power" they claimed. It was only two weeks after his birthday his injuries took place.Home alone he sat reading forbidden books, someone broke into his house. The stranger brutally gouged a blade into his right leg repeatedly and tore off his wings. The parents came home a few moments after the assailant had taken his scaly wings and fended the man off. Getting the aid of an alchemist, the boy lived. However the medicine the man supplied could not heal the wounds properly, leaving Xavius maimed for life. Deciding it unsafe in the swamps the unsuspecting parents traveled all around with him until he was old enough to leave there guardianship. At this point in his life he had found an interest in the Anubi, he would study their culture and read their myths and legends. He also always loved music and other forms of art. But again he never found he cared enough to get into such things. Save for the music lessons he recieved as a boy. His parents always claimed him to be a prodigy. And so he eventually began to find a passion in darkness instead. He began to study daemonology and other dark arts and sorcery. Back in his homelands by day he would oversee construction a home underground. By night he would study the blackest arts. Often experimenting till the morning. By the age of twenty-five his underground mansion was complete. His first terrible act was that of systematically killing every member of the construction team, as to keep his home secret. He left a small "x" on the left cheek of his victims. And retrieved every coin spent in one form or another. Dark, and made of mostly stone, the manor held all the comforts he needed. He would study and spend much time reading as many dark texts and tomes he could find, all the while humming to himself in pleasure of the dark words forming in front of his eyes. Living alone in the swamps, he relied mainly on his speed and use of the dark arts to survive, and he would often have to be careful due to his leg sometimes slowing him down. However he found the lone life strangely bothering and decided to wander out to places his parents had taken him. Though everywhere he went he found cruelty towards him for his figure. This didn't bother him, he still like to keep his privacey. It wasn't until he was about to go home when he met her. Selviena was her name, and he and her quickly fell in love. He lived with her in her home for two years. His hate and anger slowly began to fade along with his thirst for power. He no longer felt the need for dark arts. His evil shell around his heart was cracked. Then she began to get distant. Slowly over time a sort of pain began to fill her eyes when she looked at him. He tried with no avail to find out what was wrong. It was as though a painful decision was infront of her. She left him one night, with only a goodbye and a promise that she would miss him. Xavius was given no reason why she left. And so he stayed and lived in her home for another year, hoping she would return to him someday. But as time went on and no word of her reached his disfunctional ears, he began to assume she simply had fallen out of love with him. Perhaps his monstrous nature subconsiously scared away this pure and innocent thill. Slowly the need for the darkness came back. Eventually the evil shell had reformed a hundred fold. He decided to return to his home. Before he went back however, he hired a taylor to make for him a custom robe, a blacksmith to make a custom set of gauntlets and boots and a craftsmen to make for him a mask and cane. A cruel looking cane with a sword inside. These things he called his Dark Promise, for they were a promise to himself, that as long as he wore these things and kept them near he would love no more and simply hate, and he promised to keep them on always. Once home he contracted yet another construction crew to add more to his house. He began to practice with his new blade for should the need ever arise he would at least be able to swing it with proper technique and speed. And as was his true calling he returned to the dark arts. Spending more time studying then ever. He would often steal away any sort of living thing in the night he could find. Taking it back to his home he would torture and kill it, simply to find new ways to do such. And to practice his dark magic upon. At the age of forty-three he came across a small band of mercanaries, who attempted to murder him. He repelled them however leaving them alive. He talked to them as they lay upon the ground from the defeat they had just endured. Filling their heads with words of power and darkness. By the end of the day they were his creatures. Mind, body and soul. He would spend all his time studying, never with his sword, and never building. They would oversee the construction for him. They would be his sword. They built onto his house, eventually making it a complex fortress under the surface. They even built for him a throne room. The construction crew was locked away for his study. They would even kidnap for him, although he would prefer to do that himself. He continued the tortures and the studies. He even began sometimes pretending to be friendly to someone only to lead them back to his lair. Sometime those he tortured would join him. And they would become part of his children. He began to refer to them as the maimed soldiers. for not one had gone unpunished for one reason or another. The maimed began to secretly recruit and slowly grew into a large secret society. A sort of crime family, with Xavius as their dread father. And so with many years passing by, his numbers are slowly ever growing. Thus Xavius Acheron continues to build the foundation for his dark vision of the world. And one day ready to unleash horrible evil to scar the planet, as he was scarred so long ago. From darkness, he found power.