HISTORY & EXTRA INFO

It wasn't to say that Rixon was ungrateful for his existence in this world; it would simply suffice to say that he found the how displeasing. He was not a child of a natural birth per say, but one where the best genes from mother dearest and father darling were placed together. In all honesty, Rixon figured it would have been better if he was raised in a test tube. He was what some called a designer baby, where humans played god with genetics and he was merely a fusion of two cells containing the best of his father and mother. That was what he found displeasing. Leopold and Aislinn Balthazar were at disagreement when the idea was placed upon their laps. The young couple were having trouble with pregnancy and it wasn't as though they could do much. Although why they wanted a child was beyond Rixon's comprehension; however, he figured, it must have been because they wanted an heir. It wasn't uncommon for blue bloods to want their line to be continued, especially those that would claim they had relations with nobility and even royalty at a point or two on the family tree. None the less, pressed as they were, they decided to go with the gift that had been handed to them. It made sense though, Leopold had figured, that if he had spent so much money catering to treatments and such for Aislinn, then certainly a designer child would be the best and efficient way to have spent that small fortune.

Rixon was an odd child. He was quiet and introverted yet had such a complex mind for someone his age. His parents had written it off as their child being a prodigy, the classical prodigal son born into the family. The red head was different though. He watched the world around him with keen green eyes that held knowledge from someone ten times his age. He picked up concepts easily in school, faster than most children his age anyway. While seeing that he would have probably learned better with tutors and such, his parents didn't want to keep the young red head from socializing and developing with the rest of his peers. So public school was their choice for educating Rixon. The green eyed child at the time found public school rather terrible. The screaming children, the disorderly classroom, and the inexcusable behavior was enough to drive him mad. How the teacher, well he supposed she was used to it by now, did not find herself at unease was beyond him. What bothered him the most, however, were the special ed children. He found them discomforting and there seemed to be a chill that ran down his spine each time they passed by. In his little mind, he didn't understand why they were here. While they were not part of his class, in which he was rather grateful for, there were certain activities where he had to interact with them. Now Rixon was not the sort to carry on his school career without wanting to know at least why he felt so uncomfortable around these children. And then it dawned on him. He found them disgusting.

At an age of eight, he killed his first person. No, it was not by the same means he kills those today, but from a simple action. A one push and a set of dominoes fell into place. An autistic child joined his third grade class with his social worker along with him to help and keep an eye on him. Christian was a sweet child, kind and gentle, although rather quiet and kept away from most children. As per usual, Rixon found himself repulsed by the other, avoiding this child as fast and as far as he could. It wasn't until that field trip that he got this sudden idea. It was a spur of the moment, some sort of pull that made him do it as he spotted Christian by the edge of the alligator enclosure. Really, it was more like some sort of pit in a sense so that the large reptiles could swim and visitors could look at them from underneath too from the safety of the glass. Christian was by the railing, leaning over just a tad bit to get a closer look at the alligators. That's when Rixon came in. Quietly and right up behind him before pushing and down he went. Alligators, in general, were rather aggressive creatures and by far, one of the most interesting to watch. At least, from a safe vantage point. From where he was with his arm outstretched from the side, many would have suspected Rixon to have tried to grab Christian before falling into the alligator pit, but it was a bit too late. An alligator's death roll was named that for a reason.

After the incident, Rixon was removed from public school and into a private institution. His parents figured that with the constant looks his classmates gave him would eventually lead to social problems and such. It was also a means to get away from the negative attention that the family was facing, not that moving Rixon to private school really helped. Nonetheless, Rixon found himself at home at his new school. It was a lot better, he supposed, since the academy he attended was more for the upper class. It was quieter and larger at times in the hallways that he walked through. The library was also larger as well, which only pleased the young ginger even better. He would have rather spent his recess in the library than outdoors playing. Concerned by his unsocial tendencies, his mother decided to get him a pet to cure what she supposed might have been a form of loneliness and shyness. To say in the least, pets did not last very long. Rixon viewed the tottering, bumbling, clumsy little beings as odd creatures that had no place in this world for the most part. So what was he to do with a drooling and annoying pup of six months? Well, for one, it involved the leash and what might have been the gardener's pair of shears. The end result was something close to an animal attack on the puppy. This continued with the rest of the animals that soon followed. The puppies, the kittens, the occasional turtle, and a couple of birds. His mother wouldn't have anymore of these so called animal attacks and had the gardener put traps in to catch the culprit.

A fox landed in the trap. Rixon found it a couple of days the traps had been set. Its leg was caught in the steel trap and it was rather obvious from all the struggling, that the animal had been there for a while. Cautious, Rixon approached the injured animal and sprung it free, but with a broken leg and a few broken teeth from trying to chew its way out would get it no where outside in the wild. From what the ten year old could see then, was that it was as good as dead. He should have put it out of its misery, but oddly enough, the ginger had taken quite a shine on the orange furred creature. He kept it in the back of the supply shed, tucked away in a box as he nursed the fox's leg and fed it scraps of meat from the kitchen. While the leg might not have set as straight as it could have, it would have to do. Within three months time the fox was up on its feet and and allowed out of the supply shed. It did not take long for the wild animal to disappear and Rixon felt no remorse as it left. Soon after, balance became a thing of fascination and obsession for the ginger after his meeting with the fox. Life and death, light and dark, order and chaos. He had killed so many small animals only to have the framed culprit trapped and on the verge of death. In order to fix what he had caused, he had to fix the fox. He had to return balance.

High school was nothing out of the ordinary except for the occasional mishap here and there involving the student council. A scandal between the President and Vice President that ended with something along the lines of a baby daddy and extremely devastated parents. Not that it mattered much to Rixon. He found himself in the secretarial chair of the student council. While the ASB president and vice president were the ones in charge, Rixon found them no more than figureheads. People that were to only look good and act accordingly, having won by a mere popularity vote and connections within each grade level. Everyone knew how that worked. And Rixon? How did he get onto the council? Well, a little miscalculation in the system certainly didn't hurt now did it? Regardless of the slight mishap, he had secured his place in the student body and the rest of his four years at the academy were golden. Events ran smoothly, fundraisers produced a large amount of profit, and complaints were kept to a minimum. This was order. College was indeed what every high school senior had dreamed of. Freedom and endless opportunities. He was sure some looked forward to fraternity parties mostly. However, he was not here to keep the peace like he had in high school. No, he was here to stir some chaos. After all, if he managed to create order for the four years he was in high school, then certainly college was to be the opposite to balance the other out.

The first year involved an explosion within the chemistry labs, labels of chemicals switched purposefully to cause a rather large reaction when two solutions were mixed. If anything, the result was three in the hospital and the rest of the class huddling in the nearest bathroom. His second year was a fire on the top floor of the library. A painstaking task to do, but it was done. The aftermath was the library to be closed and an investigation to be held underway. Really, the library had no security cameras and the only thing to do was wait for it to open again for students to use. His third year was quiet. A small break really in between, but it was no more than the calm before a storm. There was a student, one that he found while he was working in the medical clinic that provided students with free health care. It wasn't hard for the green eyed student to find a certain paranoid schizophrenic appealing for his purposes. A little whisper here and a well placed lie there did many wonders for the other. The Fox, he was called. A few emails and text messages, notes placed in the other's backpack. It wasn't that hard to get the other to believe that a certain number of the student population were heretics trying to overthrow the government. Then, of course, when the other had asked Rixon what was to to do with these people, Rixon merely said the simplest answer. Get rid of them. This is where the news beings to have a sudden hype for gun control and security on open campuses across the country. A huge debate of the second amendment begins and stricter laws are advocated for. A shooting at the college campus that led to several deaths was quite the topic at the dinner table for weeks to come. And while the deranged student was taken off the campus grounds, he kept muttering of how the Fox had told him to do it. The Fox had told him to do it and he would be rewarded while the rest were punished. Indeed the Fox had told him what to do, but the trickster was not to be hung for it.

Finally out of the educational system, the last and final step at the moment was to restore balance and order. Too much chaos was to be had at college besides the parties and other incidents. Well, Rixon final decided, that it was time to start back at home. He supposed that the lesser evil was his mother and so that meant his father would have to go. It wasn't as though Rixon was fond of the man himself. While his mother had coddled him, albeit it was annoying at times, his father never did have a hand with him as a child or young adolescent. The only thing that mattered to his father was results. The results first from when he was conceived to the results of his exams as a high school student, those were the only things that mattered. And so, Rixon would show him the end result of the child he had created. His father disappeared and his body was later found on the steps outside a church. Devastated by his father's death, his mother died soon after from grief and depression, much to Rixon's dismay. But life carries on, as the ginger had learned, and so his parents passing was just another step forward.

Concerned with the well being of the Isle and its many inhabitants, although really it was a simple matter of balance yet again, Rixon formed a small misfit organization. Small in number, but rather functional in housekeeping. They retrieved dead bodies when it came to conflicts on either side and taken to the morgue. The less bodies found, the easier it was for the locals to process it. There was some slight debate in the necessity of it all, after all, certain groups had friends in high places. Any weapons or valuables were sold back into the system or kept. A clean up crew was only part of keeping the underworld dealings between groups hidden. The rest was also done by members that kept the number between groups to a more...manageable rate. Not to say that they weren't free to grow, Rixon simply believed in controlling member rates to a carrying capacity limit. New members were simply culled, leaving behind the more prominent members. It was rather debatable if Rixon was really having anything done but helping the groups weed out any slackers. Consider it an elimination factor of some sorts. Nothing too drastic, higher ups were left alone as Rixon made sure to keep his group quiet and hidden. Besides, only the mindless dolts would dare target higher up members.

Rixon continued with his plight of bringing balance on the Isle, something that could not be overlooked at all. Bodies must be returned to the earth and families, items must be put back into the system, and most of all, kept within the Isle itself. He had not qualms with the mundanes outside of the island, but he would rather not have another war brewing on the horizon. Too much chaos and disorder would certainly ruin everything. It was then that the man appeared out of the blue. At first, Rixon treated him as any other member in his group, indifference and no fucks. Yet the more the ginger pushed the other away and kept the other from him with a ten feet pole, the man was simply infatuated by Rixon to the point of obsession. A blank fighter unit without a name, an empty and blank slate where anyone could carve their name upon his shell and claim him as their own. Rixon only eyed the other with cynicism. Zeros and blanks were unnatural in his mind, but necessary enough for those broken pairs to be mended into whole beings or new ones that found themselves without a fighter or sacrifice. Rixon, however, needed no sacrifice. At least, he thought so. The ginger could see no purpose in having a sacrifice when he did well on his own. Perhaps not as strong as true pairs at times, since battles sometimes became rather daunting, but really, a knife could solve many problems. Regardless, Rixon still refused. While he might have tolerated a blank sacrifice, he would not tolerate a blank fighter. A fighter and fighter system does not work. It simply will not work. It was out of order, out of the norm, it was not balanced. A fighter needed their sacrifice and a sacrifice needed their fighter. They were the other half of each other, a soul mate if one would prefer to use that term. Rixon would have none of it. While perhaps it was better yes, for both members of a pair to be able to protect themselves, it did not fit well in Rixon's book. So the ginger left after disbanding the small organization that he had formed.

The man did not take to Rixon leaving very well, or trying to disappear for that matter. He became angry, distraught, and very aggressive. Of which, Rixon greeted with returned aggression and distaste. The two of them fought, at first with spells, but that eventually escalated into a physical confrontation. Perhaps for the first time in a long time, or even for the first time at all, Rixon had lost a fight, a fight that cost him rather dearly. His right eye was completely rendered useless, unable to see and perceive the world around him. One of his very few trusted friends, that is if he is allowed to call them that, found him broken and bruised in the alleyway. Having been trained in the medical field, Thalia managed to save him, although not his eye. That was beyond her expertise, but saving his life was not. Afterward, Rixon spend a good year recovering and adjusting to his new situation. It wasn't long after that he gave his thanks to Thalia and left. For a second time, Rixon disappeared and he has all the intent on keeping it that way. Or at least, keeping hidden from that man and doing his duty in balancing the scales of life and death. While Wraith, Rapture, and the Seven Moons have been quiet as of late, it does not mean they are idle. There is a storm brewing on the front and Rixon has an uneasiness that stirs him into his diligent watch of these three opposing groups.

• scotomaphobia - fear of blindness in visual field

It goes without saying that Rixon fears the loss of his last eye the most. While he can make do with one, having adjusted and adapted, becoming blind is crippling. Not only is it crucial for his survival and his occupation, losing his last and good eye means much more. He will no longer be able to see the current state of the world or the city he lives in.

• tea and honey 

Tea is the only thing he drinks and each time he does, there's always a spoonful of honey dropped in. When asked however, it's not because Rixon is partial to sweets, he just has a taste for it. And no, sugar cubes will not do.

• naps in the afternoon

Whether he's tired or not, Rixon tends to nap in the afternoon. Out of habit, he prefers to sleep somewhere quiet and isolated.

• night wandering

Nights are when he is the most restless and sleep never did come easy to him. Besides, most of the underworld is active at this time and it doesn't hurt to keep an eye on who's who and their activities.

• mercenary

He's a mercenary for hire, granted he's rather picky with which jobs he takes. Balance must be kept after all and he does extensive research on the person who will be his target as well as his client before considering anything. Rixon did not skimp on his collection of tools for his trade. He bought and created an arsenal of weapons that would make anyone from the former military or special forces proud. A mix of sniper rifles, hand guns, a few hand grenades, a high powered crossbow, and an assortment of knives are just a few things that he has in his possession. Just keep in mind though, he's rather attached to his toys and keeps them under lock and key.

• aislinn balthazar
• leopold balthazar

Both his parents are deceased and he was rather sad to see his mother go. This leaves him with a rather large fortune to spend on his own and considering his occupation, Rixon really doesn't need to work. The estate that he has inherited is well kept despite his absence as he prefers to live elsewhere. He does, from time to time, visit the manor to check on its condition. Likewise he does visit his parents grave on certain days. 

• merciless

His true name appeared on the back of his neck after the incident with Christian's death. Although at first it was rather light until it darkened completely over the course of the year. Rixon's name refers to his indiscriminate ways of keeping balance in the city. Whether it is a child, a woman, a man, mentally ill, animal, or such, he will feel no remorse in killing them. So long as balance is kept, he has no qualms with ending anyone's existence.

• right eye

Even though the wound has fully healed thanks to the medical treatment he had received, it has certainly left its mark. His right eye is no longer fully functioning. A jagged scar runs down his eye and where the blade had dug into his pupil. It's now a pale and milky green than anything else if he were to open his eyelid.

• dog tags
  
  

A keep sake from his time as the leader of his former syndicate, Rixon keeps his dog tags on his person at all times. He wears it around his neck on a leather cord and rarely takes them off. To be honest, it's hard to when he has been wearing it for the past several years of his life. On one dog tag there is a tribal designed leaping fox with flames at its feet. The second tag is marked with an A-1 number to signify his leadership position.



Rixon is quite the interesting figure, that is, if one would like to call him that. Obsessed with the concept of balance between order and chaos as well as other opposites, Rixon has devoted himself into keeping the scales the way they should always be. The same without so much as a little teeter or a totter. He has taken it upon himself to fix the scales and manage the three opposing underworld factions, not to control them, but to keep them in check. While this happens, Rixon spends most of his days and nights wandering. He lives off whatever fortune he inherited from his family and any source of income he has obtained is from illegal organs or weapons sold on the black market. Of course, it's not aimless wandering, but he spends them more like patrols. He goes into certain areas that are designated regions where each of the three groups reside: Wraith, Rapture, and the Seven Moons. It's just to keep an eye on them and he does a rather good job in blending in with the crowd and remaining unseen.

Socially stunted is the best way to describe Rixon. While all smiles and first appearances are wonderful, it does not last for long. Small talk lapses into silence. The mercenary doesn't really do social anythings. He has always been a solitary person and he only talks when he finds it necessary. It's also rather hard to read what Rixon is feeling as well. All emotions besides anger seems to be visible. If you're lucky, you might notice a small flicker of something in his eye, but good luck. Anger and annoyance seems to be the most visible of all emotions. Of course he would be free in displaying those. He snaps and growls at you, a warning really, to keep yourself in check. If worse comes to worse, it will lead to a physical blow. Cautious, perhaps sometimes a bit overcautious, is another thing to call Rixon. He's very wary of his surroundings and he likes to memorize the layout of the area for any possible escape routes. While he has adapted rather well to living with one eye, it does not mean he is fully comfortable with people approaching him from the right. Hopefully you keep yourself on his good side because he won't tell you twice about staying away from his blind area.

SPELL LIST

MADE BY PANNY FOR WAR OF CHANGE IN-SITE USAGE ONLY!