Fenford, The Hellhound of the Arena(Retired)

> "Life is pain, you fight through it or die trying!"
>
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### **Appearance**

Fenford is some kind of half-elf and stands six foot, seven inches, dark grey heavily scarred skin tattooed with numerous sigils and glyphs, muscles fairly ripped even in a relaxed state. He wears little more than a scrappy loincloth and shredded black cloak, but most notably constant flames cloak his body and shining black blood coats his claws making them even more vicious than they already were.

### **Early Life**

We all know of the drow, fewer know about the extreme nature of the drow, but none of us know better... than Fenford. Born of a drow slave he never knew he grew up penned, hungry and fighting every step to survive. Traded across the Underdark there is no good explanation for his survival, but by some miracle he managed to make a place for himself within a trader's pack of what he refers to as Deep Wolves and avoid sale to an actual owner for some time, during which his hate for Drow grew, and he came to adopt much of these Deep Wolves' ferocity. Then quite possibly the worst thing happened, a drow Arch-Mage was looking for "research materials," and Fenford couldn't escape detection. Even as a mere child Fenford managed to kill one of his armed captors bare handed before they could restrain and beat him for the action. On the brink of death the Arch-mage stopped their assault, admittedly by ending one of their lives, and bought him. And this is where his story really begins.

Taken as the drow Arch-Mage's pet he was subjected to tortures few living creatures have ever withstood. Experiments no-one else has survived and training to put his ever growing fury towards the dark elves to good use. Fenford was trained to hunt and eliminate drow mages in their house wars, sent in along his owner's soldiers in chains and let loose to tear through the enemy's household, he was like violence incarnate.

(Skip to the next paragraph if you wanna skip the lesson in drow lore)

Now to lay out a little detail for those of you that don't know everything said up till now doesn't even scratch the surface of the drow's violent nature. House wars aren't some small thing, a noble drow's household normally consists of a few hundred members, a private army of merciless soldiers and mages, and whatever monstrous pets they have. House Wars are typically "illegal," illegal in the sense that you don't get in trouble if you don't get caught, and even that doesn't accurately emphasize the rules they bind themselves to. To be caught performing a House War a noble member of the opposing house must survive to report the attacking household. Guess what that means, basically leave no witnesses. Now capturing slaves is fair game, including, though uncommon, the nobles. Another thing, the attacking household can basically march their army through the city, and like previously mentioned only the attacked house's nobles get to report them.

That means Fenford was trained to hunt down the mages, and slaughter everyone else belonging to the house indiscriminately: men, women, children, soldiers, slaves, pets, guests. Fenford was regularly bathed in the blood of many. The Arch-Mage specially altered him for such, infusing him with elemental fires to make him a more effective tool of war. His flames played especially in his favor against the light blind drow he was set to slay. Black Blood was transfused into his veins making him resilient to cold where the fires protected him from heat, sigils of their god granted him protection from much harm, and so much more he never knew. Under his master he was taught only Ignan and Drow Sign to give them some means of directing his fury and fears, though he was never taught to read or write and developed a disdain for written language associating all of it with the many scrolls used in his torture and mutation.

Fenford’s escape came from a House War with a household that was involved with some of the smuggling of the city. Fenford stumbled on a smuggler’s passage during the attack, he blindly charged down the passage expecting to slaughter more of the household but eventually found himself lost in the Underdark. Freedom was at hand but he didn’t really know it, he was lost, fearful of the torture that may result should he not return, and surrounded by the vile monstrosities that call the Underdark home. For months he fought tooth and nail with everything he came across, finding sustenance only in what crawled out of the darker recesses to try and eat him. The few magic charms equipped to him by the Arch-Mage and his rage are probably the only reason he managed to survive long enough to reach the surface. For weeks he could only manage within the cave or move at night trying to slowly adjust to the sunlight that was so blinding compared to the darkness below, until he could finally traverse daylight beyond the cave. A downside though, is that the Underdark is filled with strange energies responsible for the monsters that exist there and most drow use these strange energies for their magics. Away from such energies and beneath sunlight which corrodes them away faster, Fenford’s few items grew weaker, as did much of the magics inlaid within him that made him such a potent weapon. He continued to slaughter his way across nearly everything he encountered, traveling thoughtlessly still unsure of his fate. He ended up killing several caravans, leading to a rumor of a hellhound occupying the area, which led to an arena sending out a capture squad looking for a show beast, and oh… did they find one. With a few mages and several well equipped mercenaries, they finally manage to stop him in his considerably weakened state. They did capture him, though certainly at no loss to their ranks, took what little he had, chained and dragged him back behind their horses.

The arena did quite well for this, claiming the reward for his capture and the most vicious pit fighter they had ever seen. For years he had to be wrangled with the utmost care as he would regularly get his hands on the arena’s beast handlers tearing them to shreds, from this he became known as “The Hellhound of the Arena”. Every few years when the betting profits for his fights dropped too much to prove worthwhile he would be sold to another arena. This lasted eight years, during which he grew accustomed to the life of a gladiator, marginally less violent outside of actual fighting and picked up the common language, though still never learning to read. He also learned some of the value of currencies from witnessing the functions of the arenas for which he fought. Eventually not having any arenas to sell him to he was set for his greatest show to date. Fenford would gain his freedom if… he could slay all willing participants that signed up to fight him. A deathmatch that lured in thirteen armed combatants with riches in their sights just beyond Fenford’s lifeless corpse, but they could never know what he was capable of. Fenford was offered a chance at freedom, he hadn’t been offered that before, he still felt bound by slavery, and that made him realize, he would never have to face the Arch-Mage again. Better yet with his freedom he could get stronger and go back and get his revenge, this drove him, it unleashed some of the dwindling magics that had been built into him, they were his now and he would use them. Fueled by his own rage and fury and desire for revenge he regained those magics, and it was a bloodbath. Pure fury itself seemed to make him tower over them with strength few can achieve, his own blood sought the violence encasing his claws in it’s chilling cold all the while those flames he carried burned bright. His claws could cause weapons, armor, and organs alike to rupture and shatter from thermal shock, wrath left the arena painted red and in moments not a single contender stood before him. Commoners fled his path as he left the city, with the only treasure he knew of to that point, FREEDOM.

Since then Fenford has traveled, resorting to pit fights and arenas for what little currency he’s needed, before moving on, looking for a place to refine his abilities, and worthy champions to test his fangs that he may one day seek his revenge against his former master. He still wears almost nothing, his scars and sigils serving as armor greater than most, his blood and claws more dangerous, more lethal than many a blade. He’s made his way to Fenar and it shows great promise, heroes and gods alike call it home, surely here he can reach the strength he needs to get his revenge. Unbeknownst to him the Arch-mage never lost track of his pet, and he had his own plans.

### **Adventures**

#### One Hell of a Rat Problem

A request went out for the aid of some adventurers, to clear out a rather large rat problem in a nearby village, wanting to stretch his legs and get out some frustration Fenford takes up the job. He finds himself with an unusual group also set for the task, a skilled fighter Bryva, an usual 4 armed gun toting cleaning specialist Siddi, and some kind of large, sickly, cancerous, bird creature. Introductions fell short, though hardly surprising, Fenford's never up for such, but worse than him was the incessant cawing of the bird that none could understand.

Arriving, they find the village apparently empty, Fenford expecting the return of whatever caused the ghost town took up a readied position in the center while the others checked houses. Siddi displays unique manners in how he executes a task, quick to assume ambush he draws powerful guns from seemingly nowhere and takes the gentlemanly lead in entering the houses, sweeping several to no avail. they happen upon one house that shows of recent struggle, and the group investigates it further finding a sealed basement. After a few failed attempts to open it Fenford shoves his way to it and with an empowering roar rips the door from its hinges, opening their path. The basement reeks by most peoples standards though the party suffers naught from it, as they begin searching, the nearest door appears to be little more than a store room for which Fenford holds low expectations, and for which he was right to. Opening the door he finally sees his first chance at some bloodletting as the room is nearly filled with rats, "FINALLY!!!" he shouts, hardly a worthy fight but something to do, except that the cancerous bird made it way behind Fenford throwing magic into the room that laid waste to the rats. Suffice to say he had a few words for the disturbing avian, he makes his way to another door with some expectation only to find a group of detained and sickly villagers, he pays it little mind walking to another door handing off that responsibility to Bryva and Siddi, unbeknownst to them the feathered vector disappeared, probably spotted a snack to chase after. Bryva left the captives to Siddi and opened the last door. Beyond that door was quite unpleasant, the room reeked of blood and numerous sizable, mutated rats filled this room as well, as well as an exceptionally large one with 2 heads and numerous corpses. The rats rushed Bryva which went poorly for them due to her comparable skills, and Fenford forgot the last door rushing heartily into the newfound fight. Unfortunately the rats proved little threat and fell quickly beneath Fenford's scorching claws and Bryva's blade.

Setting the sickly corpses ablaze Fenford and Bryva left to pursue details of a note she had found supposedly detailing something of interest with the village well, Fenford wouldn't know what refusing to even look at the revealed note. Siddi under some personal compulsion stayed behind releasing the captives and cleaning them and the basement. Bryva had inspected the well earlier finding a lever that drained it but did nothing else of notice, but having been drained, with Fenford's illuminating presence and whatever the note detailed, Bryva easily found a set of secret triggers that opened a secret passage to what appeared to be a smuggler's den. The passage led to an unprotected door from which the sounds of rats and fighting could be heard, they chose to wait a few moments to ready themselves and for Siddi to catch up. Upon Siddi's arrival they burst them door down and Siddi laid fire upon numerous rats and a man who'd been fighting a woman in the center of the room, all of which died, the rest of the room showed more rats of varying sizes, several with two heads and one of them much larger than the rest and bearing some semblance of intelligence. Bryva followed up striking at a large two headed rat with powerful strikes, and Fenford followed after her with his blazing claws tearing apart every rat he struck. They continued to lay waste to the rats quickly exterminating them all and releasing the remaining detained villagers. By all accounts the the rats possessed some modest intelligence and captured or killed every villager before subjecting the captives to death matches for their entertainment. Regardless the remaining villagers were rescued, the rats slain and, of their homes cleaned, and having left the under well chamber cleaned for use, potentially as a safe house for the village in case of future crisis.