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[Xaxanta]

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The history of a lone dwarf plagued by death at each end of his life.

This is Xaxanta, a lone dwarf, a lone dwarf mage.
The only one recorded in any history books of any dwarven society.

This history, however starts 277 years ago, in a region long forgotten by mankind, in the western hills a thriving hill dwarf communty prospered, Xaxanta was born into a family of considereable wealth and stability.

His father was very successful merchant and swordsman to boot, his mother was a successful blacksmith, quite the reverse for a typical dwarven household.

When Xaxanta was 20 years old, he was to be trained in the use of many armsweapons, however Xaxanta, was not easily intrigued by weapons, he saw them as tools of a dying race...his race.

This began a frantic study of the arcane for Xaxanta, knowing that no other dwarf had successfully trained in any "dark", "arcane", or "white" magic as it had been known as early on.
When word came t othe dwarven council that one of thier own, was practicing "magic", it soon came to pass that Xaxanta was to be exiled forever from his hilly home.

At the Young age of 20, Xaxanta was forced from his home, with nothing more than the clothes on his back, and the books he was "studying" from.
Shortly after being exiled, there was a raid on his village by orcs, everyone in that town was slaughtered, save for one, a young child who had been secretly bringing Xaxanta food.
This boy had no name, and was soon called "Xaxandu", A brother among brothers. But his story comes later...

Xaxanta wandered around many years before taking a boat to a distant land called "sosaria". This is where he'd make his new begining.
Some time later Xaxanta was befriended oddly enough by some rogue Dark elves, living in a forest, right outside some towns limits, he spent the next 60 years with these peaceful people. He even came to marry one of the elves, completely unheardof by any means, a dwarf and an elf, many questions arose, and soon, Xaxanta found himself exiled again, only this time, he was accompained by his wife, Ashal'valan.
Hatred and jealousy breed corruption, we all know this. Some months later Ashal'valan gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, his name was to be known as "Runefuast Wulfen". It was a month after this, the dark elves attacked Xaxanta's small stone tower, they came in without mercy.

Xaxanta, now having completely mastered any magic he could get his hands on, lashed out with all he had, utterly destroying the dark elves that would DARE enter HIS HOME! His wife, Ashal'Valan also kept up the fight, with a scimitar in one hand, and her baby son in the other, she fought on, fought on with all her might, but this was not enough...

As Xaxanta hurried downstairs to finally finish the task that was put before him, much to Xaxanta's disarray, bodies lay everywhere, blood filled the downstairs like a lake. With this he noticed the shining earrings and necklace of his wife, her long silver hair soaked almost completely red by the blood, still clutching the son, the son of a dwarf mage, and an elven warrior.
Xaxanta laid by his dying wife, and sure to be dead son.
With all in his 80 years of living Xaxanta had only known betrayal and distrust, in his wifes final moments, she said something that would forever change his hardened life.
"Xaxanta, my dear sweet Xaxanta, the only man to hold my heart, and the only man to whom i will ever love, his my dying breath, i give you my life."
Thats right, Ashal'Valan gave Xaxanta a gift...the gift of eternal life.
With this thought ringing soundly in his head, Xaxanta picked up his wife and child, and carried them outside. He lay his wife to rest underneath a giant oak tree, and as he was about to lay his child beside her, the child breathed, lightly, but breathed.
Xaxanta, only knowning Minor healing spells, channeled all he had into his younglings heart. Xaxanta passed out for three days.
After Xaxanta regained his stregnth, he found his young child curled up next to him sobbing.
Xaxanta burned down the tower, and everything in it, surely the dark elves would come looking for him and his son. He quickly left for a small town to the east, this would later become the town cove, he left his son with a confidant person who'd he recently come in contact with, his old friend that was with him on the night that his village was raided, Xaxandu now cared for Runefaust as his own.
Xaxanta wandered for another 60 years. Now 140 years of age, he was getting old, his speech was now somewhat jumbled, or so people thought.
The fact is, during his travels Xaxanta sought vengance on those who'd killed his village, and murdered his wife.
To do this he had to learn the languages of many races, he started by learning Orc speak, followed by Grey Elvish, Dark Elf Speak, and common vernacular.
Another 135 years passed, seeking revenge on everyone he sought fit to.
The nothern Orcs felt his presense when they sought to take over cove, the dark elves soon fell prey to Xaxantas might, one night when he burned down and slaughtered an entire encampment.
When his revenge was exacted, Xaxanta began seeking companionship from other races, he started his long life with the Royal Storm Riders, soon after he left with Thaeston Mox, to help form Botherhood of the Wild.
Soon after this he felt it was time for him to start his own guild, after a short stint he returned to Thaeston Mox, which now headed a small band of rogues, after Thaestons untimely demise, he sought out new friendships, eventually landing to a small place where a very unusual man was, this man was Silent Poet, a man of extreme knowledge, Xaxanta, never openly admitted he was no match for the tall man, but indeed he wasn't at all.
This is where the history stops and the present begins...
Xaxanta is now 277 years old, the longest living dwarf known to any human, dwarf, or elf alike.
He will never die. This is his death, to live eternally, always fading in and out of everyones path, never staying around for to long, never getting to attached.
Those who know him, also have a deep respect for him, those who dont know him, either fear him or hate him, thier is no medium.
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The life of one dwarf is often considered expindible.
But who gets to decide?