An older halfling with a with a sizable chip on his shoulder, he's been in the background of the academy for quite some time. He feels like people assume he's weak, so he trains hard and is quick to escalate provocations.

Timoswy Frooly was born in a little hobbit town on the continent of Crinunfuck. While not particularly large of a town itself, Gronton was a through-route and pit stop for many travelers, all with stories to tell. Timoswy worked as a barhand in his parent’s tavern and so had many opportunities to eavesdrop on groups of adventurers, merchants from distant lands, and all types in between. And in hearing all the stories told from all over the realm, he too began to long for a taste of such legends himself. Unfortunately for him, he had no arcane talent to speak of, and there are hardly any halflings out there with the physique of a mighty hero. This fact did not dissuade Timoswy though, and as he rose in years he took part in whatever physical conditioning he could, working out in the village and sparring with whatever adventurers he could convince to spar with him, and he read as many tales and listened to as many stories of adventure as he could and overall did his best to emulate the heroes that his small town didn’t actually need. Still, he kept up appearances hoping that one day adventure could call him too away from his quiet life, and as luck would have it, his plucky determination caught the eye of a recruiter for a new school, a school looking to train a new generation of defenders.
Timoswy took some time to think about the offer, but before long he was on a wagon heading to a boat heading to MISTY. He passed his entrance exams with the same stroke of luck that got him noticed in the first place, and before long he was reading the finest written stories of heroes, and learning sparring techniques from some of the finest fighters money could entice. All in all, things were going good for a good while, until one fateful field survey trip in spring.
Timoswy and a handful of other MISTY students were sent out on a quick reconnaissance mission to look for fairy portals around campus, as pixie sightings had become more common. Without too much trouble, he came across a circle of mushrooms in a glade and concluded that this had to be the source of the trouble. The question was what to do about it? He walked around the perimeter, he nudged some of the mushrooms with his toes, and eventually he crossed a foot to the inside of the circle, which turned out to be a mistake. In a flash he was weaker, lightheaded even, and being supported by school officials. He looked at the small crowd gathered around him and fished in his mind for the pieces of memories he swore were just there. There was a creature of otherworldly beauty… it seemed enamored with his luck… but he couldn’t remember any more. He was told that the portal was closed and he was back now, and he was led back to campus. And though he rested well that night, he couldn’t escape the feeling that something was darker inside him, that the small silvery thread of luck guiding him had been cut. His test results on the final day all but confirmed that. Timoswy had never had the brains for written tests but had made due all the same so far, but no longer.
He wasn’t passing the tests to advance through the school, but nor had the school formalized any sort of formal failure system, so Timoswy kept his martial training up as best he could, picked up shifts as the school janitor, and his educational career slowly stalled. In the wake of his progression, he found himself involved in a growing underground fight club near MISTYs campus. He decided that if he couldn’t face brigands and dragons in combat. He would face the best MISTY had to offer, and he would bring his own best. Before long he had gained an immense amount of notoriety in the club for being such a fierce fighter despite his size. A while later he was known as King inside the arena. A while later still and the arena was shut down due to persistent injuries on participants (a good number caused by King himself) and his ragtag community was disbanded, with King left to carry the title as none could rightly take it from him, and after a few years he came to enjoy the mineker over his given name. While the years spent as MISTYs custodian have taken their toll on King, they have not been without their rewards too. For instance he has many opportunities to look in the parts of the school that many people overlook. In one attic of a history building, he found an old dusty notebook, handwritten in a strange script with pages as large as his chest. Though he knows not what the book means, he is nothing short of fascinated by the diagrams showing ancient runes being applied to weaponry. And after all these years he seems to have found one more stroke of luck in a new set of friends met out on an errand, friends sure to help King unlock his full potential