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Caspian was a thrall because his father was a thrall and his mother was also a thrall, and his father's war debt was a lot to pay. Yet the Thrax fealty has spent the last few years struggling towards what the rest of the Compact would call progress, and in an early push towards some of that progress, Donella Thrax freed some thralls who were thralls only by virtue of their parents' debts rather than their own. Caspian was freed at 19, with scattered memories of his tribe's honestly piratical raiding traditions mostly subverted by the day in and day out of long hours of hard labor with tenant farmers and ropemakers and sailors. He found in his newfound freedom that what he was mainly good at was a.) hard labor and b.) knives! He took the surname 'Wild' because his parents didn't give him a better one, and became a mercenary and sword for hire, until he eventually tagged into being a duellist for the Champion's Guild in Arx on account of besting a few in combat and developing a reputation for being a real /showy/ sword for hire. Though he began as a kind of desperately hungry merc with an axe to grind, he blossomed into a delighted fighter at the opportunity to pitch his skills in the dueling ring to wealthy nobles. It was exactly the life for him. Money was suddenly easier to come by, and with money, delicious attention, heartwarming acclaim, and the love and affection of adoring crowds, at least as long as he was making a show of it. Turning to away from grim guts and leaping whole-heartedly into laughter and life, he shines with the brilliance of the bon vivant, and it's clear he's here to make a killing.

Clean, young athleticism defines Caspian: corded muscle thick and sculpted beneath the smooth dusky warmth of his skin, his broad, imposing frame might be a work of art to call to mind the sculptor's craft at statuary if you could get him to hold still for five minutes. He is dynamic and rarely still, driving motion through life at high speed. His wavy black hair is worn thick and long, his sloe-dark eyes often lit with an inner brilliance beneath the leaping arch of his active black eyebrows. His teeth flash white in ready grins, grinning challenge or fey humor in a fight as readily as he might grin delight and mirth at a festival.

Caspian is a cocktail of bright and dark, layer upon layer of glitter and glitz over a deeper uncertainty. His youth was forged uniquely in hardship, a stranger in a strange land in the Mourning Isles, punished for the sins -- literally -- of his parents. His new adulthood is a phoenix rise to a brilliant pinnacle of showmanship, grace, and basically glee. Caspian is quick: quick with words, deeds, weapons. But he's not hotheaded; he's mellow, bright-hearted, ready to defuse a situation with earnest-eyed hope as well as cause one with a badly-thought-out word. He loves jokes. He loves drama but pure melodrama, to throw himself into a performance with everything that he has. He loves attention. He laps it up. Give him more. More attention. He loves parties. He feeds off the energy of life and shines with it.