Name: Inari Fa

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Genders: Female, Herm, Shemale, Male

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Ages: 250 - ???

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Bust: DD 27

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Height: 6' 7"

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Hair: Bloody Auburn

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Eyes: Orange

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Race: Tiefling/Demonkin

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Occupations: Bodyguard, Hired Muscle, Sellsword, Pit Fighter, Blood Magician

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Personality: Despite his appearance, is very gentle

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Loves cute things

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favorite color is, believe it or not, pink

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Loves big dogs, the fluffier the better (he likes all dogs really)

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Really likes classic anime

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His style is a cross between a beefy shaolin monk, and a greaser

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Loves Kung fu flicks

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Enjoys fighting very, very much

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Bio: One second he was fighting a dark elf, who had all the advantage on him he could possibly need, and then the next, the tables were turned, and instead of being someplace humid, and hot, he was in a dim alleyway in a loud city, standing shirtless in the rain. And suddenly, he didnt remember why he was in this fight. Or how he ended up with the sword, or all the wounds on his body. But he didnt hesitate, he picked the elf up by his throat, and stabbed him, until he stopped resisting. Then he threw him to the floor and buried the blade in him, and left it there. There were lights, everywhere. Neon, Pixels, screens, lasers, spotlights, street lights. It was too much for him. So he ducked into a nearby shop, and suddenly, it was all dark, and quiet again. For this, he was thankful.

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Inari has no memory of his life, what he did, who he killed, or well, anything beyond his own name, and a couple things about himself. Any memories before the fight that took place the day he was transported to faihrune, simply ceased to be. And so too did most of his skills. Except for two things. He could still use blood magic, he forgot most of the techniques and incantations, but it was easy enough to relearn. And he could fight. Of course he could fight. But that night in the alley, that was his first kill, all over again. It would have taken him months to get used to the city, but he didnt have that kind of time. On his third day, when he went to go start looking for work, work found him. He was bagged and tranquilized in an alleyway, before being shoved on a transport vessel due for hong kong. When he came to, he heard shouting, he could smell blood, and he heard a loud booming voice, narrating a fight. Suddenly, a dim light, lit up his world as the bag was ripped from his head. He was told to get up, and get ready for a fight, and then they removed his restraints, and he punched the man who did, so hard in the face, he hit the nearby wall and was instantly knocked out cold, with a very serious concussion. They tased him, for thirty seconds, before cheers were heard from the crowd, and they stopped,"Dont act up again, or it'll be worse next time" and he spat back,"He said get ready for a fight. So I got ready." This earned him a laugh, and what sounded like a slur, in a language he didnt understand, before he was shoved towards the shouting and cheering.

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He 'worked' in that underground fight ring for a couple of months, becoming its headlining act, and remaining as such until the ringleaders kidnapped someone that was key to a police investigation, and the police managed to shut the whole thing down. So he was free. But then, all he really knew was fighting, and that thing with his blood he did a couple times in the ring. So, he found a different fight ring. One that paid, and was run by a legitmate buisness. For a while, he made a living just doing fights and being the reigning champion, and sometimes, losing on purpose, but convincingly enough. Once he found himself on stable ground, withn a place to live, and money to keep himself afloat, he found became friends with the cook at one of the bars he frequented, and learned to cook for himself a little bit. He learned more about the world, and he took on a couple jobs as a bouncer. And then he finally got the huge dog he'd always wanted, a big fluffy cross between a Hungarian boar hound and a Somayed, he named Brutus.