Growing up, Zemion didn't have parents, but he had the Arena of Fellport. He finally fought in one tournament just before the Arena closed permanently. He lost his way for a while, keeping the name Zemion because he chose it as his gladiator name, his first act of conscious self-determination. He found his way into bottles and bar fights, and he earned his chops in the underground fighting rings around the city. Nobody ever caught him when the City Guard raided these fights, but they knew of him as a troublemaker that they couldn't quite catch.
Zemion's luck changed when he realized his drinking actually made him a better fighter. He studied brewing to improve the quality of alcohol he drank, but eventually he realized he didn't need the buzz to fight effectively. When he had the money to purchase the old arena barracks, he jumped at the opportunity and set up the Way of the Tankard. People came for the cheap and tasty beer, but they stayed when Zemion talked about being a part of something bigger than themselves.
Today Zemion still looks like a lanky punk teenager despite his 150 years. His spiky black hair fell out of fashion decades ago, but on him it still works. His blue eyes twinkle with the confidence of someone absolutely sure of his life's calling, and he can't keep a smirk off his face for love nor money. He acts brash and completely unpredictably, but he makes sure everyone he touches lands on their feet emotionally, financially, and physically. He found his way to his perfect life, and he wants to help everyone else find their way too, usually through harsh truths and tough love.
Half-Elf Drunken Master Monk (Level 18) (Soldier Background)
Str 14 Dex 18 Con 12 Int 8 Wis 20 Cha 12
Acrobatics +10, Animal Handling +11, Athletics +8, Intimidation +7, Medicine +11, Performance +7, Stealth +10