Born on a gloomy Friday as the second child of a merchant and his wife, Andros Canvallio was raised with a silver spoon in his mouth.

Andros, being the younger of the siblings, was never trained to be one of the merchant elite. That honor went to his elder sister, a girl of indomitable will who had no time for her brother's childish nature. Instead, young Andros was left to his own devices. He found that he was always the biggest and toughest kid around, making a name for himself as a dirty fighter and general brawler in the streets.

For him, it was simply progression along his chosen path that landed him in his current profession. He knew that he could sit back and live in luxury for the rest of his days, given the affluence of his family, but absolutely loathed the fact that it would only be under his sister's say-so. Instead, he chose something for himself: joining up with one of the many mercenary bands that prowled Tusa for work. He immediately took to the hard work and training, despite his family's admittedly feeble protests.

Quickly establishing himself in the familiar position of general muscle and breaker of objects both fragile and not, Andros spend his teenage years unbridled by the pressures of his heritage. As his sister on took more and more work as the heir of the Canvallio family, he simply spent his days as a hired mace with little care, allowing the hard stuff like thinking or morals to be handled by his superiors. Life was easy for his head, and rewarding on his body, despite the scars he accrued over the years.

And that, perhaps, was what lead to his downfall. On what should have been a rather mundane job(Rough up a half-elf who had been encroaching on a certain rich merchant's territory), the spoiled mercenary made what seemed like a simple deviation at the time. He found the half-elf, and instead of immediately taking him out, Andros felt the need to instead ask why. Why had the half-elf done such a thing? Andros had no particular reason for his question. He was simply curious, after all these years, why people did things that got them hunted down.

The half-elf's passionate answer, involving a tale of betrayal and a quest for redemption, caught Andros off guard. He listened the the winding story of a family wronged, and of a merchant's greed. He listened to the sorrow in the half-elf's voice, and thought to himself about how much different his life was. He let the half-elf go, quite pleased with his first decision in the longest time. He was certain he was right.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

Andros' gamble cost him dearly. The half-elf he had taken pity on struck quickly and cleanly, making certain to make his mark before a less forgiving hitman came after him. He  proceeded to murder both Andros' client and the mercenary's reputation in the span of a few hours. The word quickly spread of Andros' shame and seeming betrayal, and he was forced to take drastic action to keep his head. His parent's money couldn't save him now. He fled from his homeland in shame that day, taking only his weapons and what little gold he could carry. He crept across Tusa's boundary with Linhythe in the dead of night, and made his steady way to the coastal city proper over the next few weeks, by foot and whatever local wagons he could hitch a ride on. He arrived at the city, cold and hungry, and spent the last of his cash paying one of the criminal syndicates to take him out of the Empire.

Arriving at the bustling port of Amedra, having lost nearly everything save his trusty mace and the clothes on his back, Andros finally felt he was safe from the bounty hunters that dogged his footsteps. He abandoned his last name, and started his life anew. As Andros Rhodon, an oddjobsman and general thug, he's become quite satisfied with his stagnating, violent, and generally seedy life. While he misses his family, he never felt any real connection to the Koben Empire or Tuca. He takes jobs as he can get them, sometimes straying to the other cities in Miras as his work demands.