A Mul Fighter who makes a living as a professional gladiator. Originally from Tyr.
Fristania looked into the crowd in dismay. Pale face streaked with dirt and tears. Terror strocked her heart and mind. A battle ensued in the street. The hovel where she hid cloaked in shadow and fear was more than enough to keep prying eyes away.
A band of slayers stood over a Templar’s body. The blood flowing from their wounds providing only mild distraction from the elation of the kill. One suddenly turned towards Fristania. His mind probing out and finding her. For a moment she looked directly into his eyes and then he turned and departed with his friends.
It was months before Fristania didn’t lay awake most nights shivering in fear. Her arms ached with holding tight to her sides. Survival prooved not to be as hard as she had expected. Eventualy it was the stillness of death that finally stopped the shakes.
For the first few weeks though the battles in the city meant the city was ripe with loot and easy to find for someone familiar with the ancient houses in the neighbor hood. Fristania survived by looting small items and selling them to merchant caravans near the edge of the city.
It was on just such a trip that she met Phish. A proud former slave he survived in the streets with muscle and might. You see for Fristania and Phish it was love at first site.
However, life in Tyr is not an easy and after a few months the easy looting was all gone. Now came the hard times. Phish and Fristania lived hand to mouth. The boy soon found a living prize fighting in local clubs. His knuckles earning him a small reputation and enough money to often feed himself and sometimes Fristania.
However, one night when he came home his face beaten he found her still form lost to gates of hell. For Phish knew that the only place a soul of Tyr could go was to hell.
Phish, knew then that love was not for him. He already suspected he was more of a fighter than a lover and the loss of Fristania seeded the path for him.
Over the next two years he rose up in the ranks of the brawlers and soon found himself on an Arena team. From here he rose through the ranks earning a reputation.
It could have been his tensity that gained him fame but likely it was more luck than anything that he stayed alive. As his skills increased though he found soon enough he relied less and less on luck.
His distant attitude earned him more enemies than friends and soon he found himself floating from place to place fighting for money, whoring it up, and kicking any stray “dogs” that got in his way.
That was until he met Trish Swifttongue. His Elven agent found him down on his luck a bit drunk, bleeding, and angry.
Trish knew raw talent when she Saw it though. And even though there wasn’t much of it in Phish she saw someone she could use easily.
But over the next couple of years Phish turned his down and luck position into a favored regular one. Although he always looks beaten and down he rarely is. The scars and wounds of Phish’s past are never forgotten because they aren’t all completely healed. The down and out look often lures people into thinking he’s weak or used up. But there is a tenacity to Phish that promises something stronger.