This was the life into which Haxtes was born. At first it was not so different from life on other worlds, but as time passed the situation on Protasia grew worse and worse. Haxtes' father left when he was very little, to fight the Imperium that had brought the war with them. He never saw him again. His mother was forced to sell herself to feed her three children, first to local men and later to the Imperials when the seized Haxtes' home-town. One day she did not return, leaving Haxtes and his brother and sister to fend for themselves. That did not go well. Jax, aged fourteen, was taken by Protasian insurgents in the night, given a gun, and told to fight the occupiers as once his father had. A few months later his sister Eleena, aged twelve, was taken by the Imperials. No reason was given. Neither was seen again.

At the tender age of eight Haxtes was alone in the world, having witnessed all his family and all his friends either die or disappear. His world had all but been destroyed and his home-town, once a fair city of millions was now under brutal Imperial occupation, and occupation that became bloodier and more merciless by the day as Protasian insurgents continued to fiercely resist the occupation force. Eventually the Imperial's would be forced to abandon the city of Tzhula, but upon doing so the took their vengeance by savaging the city with plasma warheads, megaton kinetic strikes, and flesh-eating viral attacks.

Haxtes somehow survived it all. He not only survived, he grew strong, he thrived. Unfettered by morals, unbound by compassion, he took what he wanted and killed those that stood in his way or might one day come to threaten him. Always alone he was, never trusting others, he grew to become the Shadow of Tzhula, a wraith that moved unseen and struck without warning, laving the dead bereft of food, weapons, or valuables. At age twelve he was something of a local legend, though few ever suspected the truth; that he was just a small boy.

It all changed in the harsh winter of 983.M41. Food and other resources were all but gone, and the survivors of the war-zone turned upon one another with unusual abandon. Haxtes lived better than most, but even he grew desperate. And so, despite his gut feeling to the contrary, he tried to take the life of a hooded black-clad stranger, seeing as he might have valuables for use in trade. It did not go well; Haxtes had finally met his match and was beaten half to death...and taken into captivity.