Frail and emaciated, Xerxes, the Reborn Black Dragonborn, stands hunched over, his scales dull and lackluster. The ridges along his limbs and spine are barely discernible, a mere whisper of their former glory. His eyes are dull and lifeless, devoid of any hint of infernal power. His physique is feeble and weak, a mockery of his once disciplined muscles and sinews. Instead of an imposing figure, he cuts a pitiful sight, inspiring neither awe nor fear. His movements are clumsy and uncoordinated, lacking any trace of the poise and grace he once possessed. The concealed menace within him has long been extinguished, leaving behind a hollow shell of a being.