Let the temptation begin!

Name: Styx Charon
Age: 4 Years
Gender: Male
Appearance: you see him!


History: He has an infamous history, a long trail of blood that is left in his wake, spilled from his many victims. He is a sight for sore eyes and his renown strikes fear in the heart of those who know of him. He spent the majority of his youth killing small animals and even some other children for fun, as an adult he turned to mercenary work to tame the beast inside always looking to kill, kill, kill. He doesn't remember Inverno, even though he is the story behind many of Inverno's scars. He doesn't remember many of the faces owned by the lives he's claimed, but he has an endless thirst for more.
Future plans: He calls himself the king of the dead, and has since he'd met with the dark tribe. They believe in magic not far from voodoo, spells woven in blood that tie him to the afterlife. He's always hunting for tribute toward his army of dead, believing that once he claims their life he owns it forever.
RP sample: coming soon, yikes.
Why you want the character: Well, I've had this design sitting around and I've wanted something to do with it for some time. He might be on hold for a little bit because I will be definitely buying him some extra height.
Design refs if you want to use/make your own: refs
Other details or ideas: I am open to tweaks and plots!

Edit: Roleplay sample below.
Ink covered limbs carried him across the unclaimed as free as the wings of a Raven soared the sky. Every time they met the earth in their step, the terrain clung to their blackness as if begging them not to leave- refreshing the scent of earth that he usually carried. The further he traveled down the bank of the river, the more and more dirt accumulated and climbed up each of those black pillars and embedded within the density of his pelt. Toes would flirt with the edge of a running stream of crisp mountain water, unaffected by the presence of mud as he knew it played it's part in hiding the scent of his masculinity and returning stealth to his attributes.

He was four years old now, in his prime and fully grown- the only survivor of what had been a strong litter.. though, it was safe to say the beast liked it that way. Through-out his years, his tall skeleton had gained the muscle mass that kept him from the lankiness of his youth- though with the blessing of his size came the burdens testosterone could sometimes bring. Blood that was quick to boil over from even the slightest hint of a challenge, a constant thirst for conquer that left him unable to remain a recluse any longer. He was driven to make his mark in this new world, and the thrill of the hunt had never been more compelling. Pure muscle sculpted around his jaws, surrounding them heavily and trailing down his neck to leave one to believe that he had been an active hunter, though in these new lands he had not overlooked the lack of healthy prey for him to sate his thirst for blood. No, he needed more.

Limestone eyes might have been misleading, shimmering with a false kindness as they scanned the river bank for any signs of traffic in the area. They were alive and passionate, quickly drawn from one feature to the next as he searched; he would not stop until he found evidence to lead him to the first life he'd lay claim over in Boreas- be it prey, predator, or even wolf.