Born under the City of Szithlin, under the Council of Yathtallar. Xion, a born male in the Drow Society was judged to live, or die. His mother, a High Priestess of Lolth by the name of Ssin'run Phindar, was expected to bare a female that would turn the tides of war. His life as a baby was chosen in exile, to forever hold the weight of his mothers failure. In her pregnancy Experimentation and heavy Arcane magics where used to insure the child's safe birth, as well as manipulate further abilities into the soon to be fated Paragon. Their hopes given up, his mother losing her position on the High Council and a position as High Priestess of Lolth was given a second chance. Ssin'run traveled far in the Underdark to meet the fates of her new born son, to see if the prophecy still held true. His future read by the Oracle, and his greatness in her eyes was her means, she would train him as she would have trained a daughter.
Through childhood he proved to be about the average of most children, females for that matter, given a more dominant aspect of life to overtake the inferior outlook of males in the Drow society. Most didn't like this, but who where the commoners to speak of a royal blood, or a noble about his rights, or even his mothers, a Priestess of Lolth. And so he grew, years of hard training from the moment he could grasp a weapon, until by the age of 30 that accumulative of a 7 year old human, he took his first kill. A simple bully was at the wrong place at the wrong time, and in such, Xion brutally murdered her in cold blood, and with it, casted from the school. It was then that his mother would see it, his talent was brutality, and from then on would pay secretly to have some of the finest warriors money could buy, hone his ability to kill.
Teachers, Scholars, Tactical Advisors, any strings she could pull, whether with money or position, she did, for her son. He would grow through the years, perfecting his weapon skills, his readings and his intelligences. Spoiled by greed, and hungering for power, by the age of 60 that accumulative of a 13 year old human, he signed himself into the military, willing to earn his ranks and respect to the 'inferior' females above him. He started as a lackey, only able to run messages to the positions, not even wielding his own weapon or armors, to stabling and backpacking needed items for the guards assigned to.
After years of struggling to be recognize, Xion still being taught by his mother, began to grow irritated with the lack of excitement. But rumors spread, a great male like him has been recognized as a relentless power hungry Drow whos been gaining fear through the cities of the Underdark. The idea of it was overwhelming, and Xion, unable to hide this from his loving mother, told her of his plot. The rumors began to spread over the months, Xion was waiting for his right moment to strike, and then, it would come soon.
In the Underdark one doesn't truly see the night or the day, but by the bells that tolled, ringing and echoing from the chambered cave that domed the cities, it would chime for every hour currently. The bells weren't what woke the city of Szithlin that night, the booming sound of explosions shattering through the east Tier would be the fault. Fear struck the unprepared city, and an invasion was taking place. Xion took this moment, his mother preparing to leave to the council was readying herself, a Priestess of Lolth was the first to see battle, and in a mutual understanding and sadness, Xion had no power to stop her.
Gathering his clothing, weapons, as well as specially made armor for him at the time, Xion dashed from the Noble Tier and headed to the carnage. Commoners spread through the streets, hurrying away from the battle behind them, pushing through Xion in their masses. He struggled forward, pushing through the chaos to finally break through to see the awe inspiring glory before him, battle. No time to place his armor, the excitement and fear doused over his body as he dropped his equipment, only to wield his worn longsword in hand. Warriors with weapons hes never seen before seemed to merge from the flames that covered the streets and walls, Orcs leading Drows, and Drows teaming with Vampires. Illithids standing along side the brutal forces of Trolls and mass amounts of Goblins. This was... confusing. He had only seen these creatures as long distant allies, always keeping an uneasy treaty of peace only to talk of their inferiority in brutal words. Orcs and Goblins normally the physical workers, slaves to the merchants an the nobles, now leading with precision and wit, surprising.
The fear was rushing through his shivering body, unable to move, to think properly, he began to re-evaluate his position. Guards where falling to this invading army, and their killers took notice to this young armed Drow. One Orc, Massive in weight with a walk that seemed to need to bow around his hairy and bloated stomach, bald with shipped tusks that yellowed at their rotten tips. The other Orc was mammoth in size, possibly standing at a good 9'10" if not more, and his shoulders only gave off more intimidation to his already massive size. This Orc, the one braided with tribal like forms seemed to lean on his even larger weapon, pointing to the bloated rank below him, barking orders. He barked back a moment, as if testing his position, only to have a returned grunt and gesture to his opponent, Xion.
With a huff of irritation the Bloated Orc did as told, this small male Drow would be easier to kill off then to be maimed by the over sized giant of a Commanding Officer after all. Hi weapon drawn, a crud, rusted and pitted axe that no more resembled something of an old hammer, then any form of slashing weapon. His stride was slow but balanced, charging at Xion as full as his jiggling belly would allow and began his swing. It showed in the power of his swing that the weapon wasn't what would win this Orc's victory, but his sheer power to the blow. And just as easily, Xion went to block with his crud longsword, for it to break at the imact and fling from his grip. Stunned from the surprise Xion went to turn back, only to fall on his back and begin a slow crawl from his soon to be murderer. Life was short in his eyes, so much incomplete, so much unlearned, so little experience.
Xion screamed as his arms naturally went to block his face and upper body. The Orc slowly lifted his blunted axe to finish the child off, and then, it happened. In an instant the Orcs eyes widened to the sharp pain in his stomach and chest, his body like a pin cushion from the bone extracted from Xion's arms. Somehow Xion's body reacted to the fear, and through a means of defending himself potential opened. He altered his body to produce compressed quills of bone to pierce through the weak joints in the Orc's armor. The bone quills broke from Xion's forearms, and quickly he got to his hands and knees dashing away as soon as possible. The bloated one stood their, no breath, no motion, but slowly relaxing his grip from the dulled axe and falling to his knees in his own pool of blood.
The Giant of a Commanding Officer noticed this, a prize for his leader. Shuffling away Xion was scooped into this Titan Orcs hand and placed against his shoulder with little cushion to soften the impact, and finally carried to the hive of the invading army.