On the night Bax pipped his shell, a freak bolt of azure lightning lanced through the swamp canopy, striking his egg directly. While his clutch-mates emerged as stoic, predatory hunters, Bax crawled out with teal scales that hummed with a low-voltage vibration and a heart that ran ten degrees hotter than any reptile's should. To his tribe, he was a 'broken cold-blood,' a creature of erratic energy who tried to hug the village elders and insisted on 'seasoning' the raw meat with sun-warmed herbs. He was eventually encouraged to wander, a polite exile that Bax viewed as a grand invitation to meet the rest of the world.
His life changed when he found a frostbitten merchant huddled in a mountain pass. Instead of seeing a meal, Bax saw a 'cold-friend.' He instinctively called upon the tempest within, not to strike, but to weave a cocoon of pressurized, warm air around the dying man. He stayed by the merchant's side for three days, using his own electric snout to spark a series of small, perfect campfires. Today, Bax travels the trade routes, carrying a massive rucksack filled with tea leaves, beeswax candles, and balls of yarn. He believes the 'Great Static' chose him to be the spark that keeps the dark and the damp at bay.