NOX VULTUS

A towering Orkath gladiator with dark bluish-silver skin marred by scaly plaques, small curved bone protrusions crown his brow, pulsing faintly with energy. His piercing yellow eyes are slit like those of a predator, and his wild monobraid of thick black hair is shaved at the sides. He wears a heavy, open pelt jacket over ripped dark leather combat pants and sturdy, reinforced boots. Strapped across his back is a brutal, curved executioner’s weapon, a hybrid of falcata, falchion, and scimitar, designed for both performance and efficiency.

Raygo is brash, rebellious, and dangerously unpredictable. He fights not for survival alone, but for the sheer thrill of it—his battles are a dance of carnage and electricity, his laughter often mingling with the screams of his opponents. He does not bow, does not submit, and takes perverse satisfaction in defying the powerful. However, beneath his feral confidence, Raygo is a paradox—he is an outsider in both Orkath and human circles. He questions his place in a system that exploits him, yet he embraces the chaos it provides. His self-awareness prevents him from becoming a mindless killer, but his thirst for battle ensures he will never be a pacifist. He will never cower—not to a Highmate, not to an Aesthean, not to anyone. Despite his reckless bravado, those who earn his respect will find a fearless ally, one who will fight until the world burns down around him. But betrayal is unforgivable—those who cross him will taste the fury of his storms before they even realize their mistake.

Born in the blood-soaked pits of the Black Maw Arenas, Raygo was a genetic anomaly from birth. His Orkath father was an enforcer-slave, bred for brutality, while his mother—a discarded human breeder—possessed a rare genetic mutation that gave Raygo unstable bio-electrical powers. In a city where power dictates survival, his abilities made him both valuable and a spectacle. From childhood, Raygo was thrown into the Black Maw Arenas gladiatorial arenas, where he killed to entertain the masses. The elite saw his mutation as an exotic thrill, betting obscene amounts on whether his storms would tear through opponents or overload and kill him first. But Raygo survived—again and again—carving a name for himself among the enslaved fighters. Unlike most Gladiators, he was not a beaten dog—he rebelled against submission, not by escaping, but by thriving in the bloodsport, making himself too valuable to dispose of.