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Xantrix Rabanne of Al'Thania
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The fallen one, it's rumored he's always been here, here in this kingdom, none have viewed his face, some even question him having a face. The mask that covers him also is said to be sacred, an ancient power, one, instilled upon him by a god. Xantrix, is a strange man, he keeps to himself mostly, and even the elders remember him roaming the streets in their youths, he is truly mysterious. His purpose, unknown, he has yet to reveal it to anyone, even those who follow him, for there are a few, not many, mainly due to his outliving them all, but those who do, must know things about him, but none reveal.

Xantrix is rumored to be a god, not a powerful one, but a minor god, put on this Earth by one of the divine to watch the people, all the people. Spread the world of the one great god, not the many great, for in his eyes, there is only one great one, Irus Grist.

He is calm, mostly isolated, but in this new time, of this new reign in the royal family, he feels his time is coming, his time of importance has came.

What it shall hold can only be revealed if he takes the first steps in his hundred year old plans.

With plans unfolding, he had revealed that he wishes to be a god, with others following under him on the same path. The vow he took one day, to the true Rabanne, had been stated many times now as the following grows larger than most in the city.

I, Xantrix, vow to serve the Truth of Rabanne with my devotion. My loyalty will be pure, my strength in faith with prevail through my doubts, my strength will protect the truth and my speech will spread the word. I will spread the real path, the real truth of the real god.

After going out into he wilderness, to find a new place to expand the truth, he became stranded when the ship he came on was suddenly overcome by an army of trolls. He had to survive for months, but finally he built a ship, and as he lay on the deck he had thoughts of great light, of a great light in a humanoid shape, but made of the purest of power, it gave him the mask, the mask he bore for five hundred years.

He was an angel. A fallen angel.
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Gender: Male
Status: Conscious
Civic Skill: Blacksmith
Personal Skill: Rider
Rank: Peasant
Age: 509
Species: ?
Money: 271
Health: 100 / 100
Mana: 100 / 100
Fatigue: 146 / 150
Hunger: 99 / 100
Last signed on 122465 hours, 38 minutes and 47 seconds ago.