Xax has deep maroon skin, sweeping black horns that curl like a ram, and eyes that resemble liquid silver. He wears layered scholar's robes that are fraying at the edges, decorated with hand-sewn patches of colorful, mismatched fabric.

He is perpetually curious and slightly scattered, often stopping mid-sentence to correct a point of historical fact. He treats magic as a vibrant conversation rather than a rigid set of rules.

Xax grew up in the hallowed libraries of a remote monastery, where his infernal blood was viewed as an academic curiosity rather than a soul. He was raised by monks who expected him to be a silent scribe, but the magical static in his veins had other plans. During a late-night transcription session, his frustration with a tedious text manifested as a localized explosion that turned his desk into a block of blue ice. Instead of fear, Xax felt a profound sense of relief. He realized that the books were just shadows of the real world. He left the monastery with a few stolen scrolls and a hunger to see how his unpredictable gifts might change the lives of others for the better. He now travels as a freelance researcher, using his magic to protect those who cannot protect themselves from the chaos of the world.