Being born a hybrid is bad enough, but being born a hybrid in a place of ill-repute and violence is a whole 'nother story. Lirkahl was born in a dingy place without so much as a name, though it's speculated that it was a desert where Spice trade is prevalent. Her mother - Jurian, the Miralukan who was unfortunate enough to be pregnant with a hybrid child, had been on the run for some time. But, thanks to her pregnancy, she had to hunker down. Lirkahl's father, Killian, was known for being a scoundrel, ruffian and an all-around ne'er'do'well. He used his Spice trade creds for everything other than the well-being of his child and the mother of his child, preferring the company of women not his wife and drugs of all manner.
During Lirkahl's birth, there were a few complications that led to the death of Jurian. Lirkahl's father was present for the birth, having helped Jurian escape certain persecution. But, despite his involvement, he was not invested in her emotionally. Once Lirkahl was born, Killian had already made plans to sell her to the highest bidder. As far as he knew, however, hybrids didn't often get as much of a good price like pure breeds. It didn't stop him. He took Lirkahl with him off planet to a nomadic collection of tribals who were willing to take her off his hands for a decent price. He had no idea who they were or what they were capable of, but it didn't matter - he had gotten rid of Lirkahl and his wife.
Lirkahl got her name early, provided by one of the plump overworked wet nurses that spent their entire life in the midst of the roaming space caravan. It's not clear where the origin of her name was, but it came swiftly and within the first few years of her life. Her lifespan was only slightly slower than that of true humans, so she had a harder time with learning the ins and outs of hard labor. She started her life helping the kitchen staff as soon as she was able to walk and talk, the disgusting group of downtrodden made certain that she only ate gruel and never got enough sleep. Pushed around often by other young workers, Lirkahl never found much solace - even when she was forced to sleep a maximum of 2 hours before more work was thrust upon her.
As she grew closer to her teenage years, she learned the hierarchy and settled into a routine that - while unhealthy for most - became all that she knew. From the kitchen staff, she moved on to be a personal assistant for the leader of this ragtag crew where she learned to read, write, speak in more than one language fluently and also the value of the credit system. Unfortunately, this is where it all started to go downhill for her. It was at this point that she realized that her time in this particular spotlight would not be long-lived; there were others, younger and more beautiful than hers eager to take her place...
The Price of Arrogance;
Lirkahl learned early what it was like to be stabbed in the back. Despite her skills with information, she was growing old quite and the leader wanted another doll to play with. One night, Lirkahl was preparing to sleep when one of the other women that had been eying her position came into her private quarters and attempted to - sloppily - assassinate her, leading to a fight that lasted all of five minutes when Lirkahl slit her throat using a blade that was most commonly used for the cutting of hair. The woman scene was happened upon by none other than the leader, who was in the process of letting Lirkahl go. Unfortunately, the discovery had sealed her fate.
Rather than offer her a chance at freedom, she was condemned to the pit fighter's guild where many young men and weomen were forced into servitude for an unknown amount of time. Some spent their whole lives and ended up dying, others got the chance at freedom or served the extent of time they were never told about. Whatever the case was, Lirkahl was put under arrest and dragged bodily out to serve time with the PFG. She had no experience with combat and seemed more like clumsy noodle rather than someone with any physical know-how. Once she had arrived, she was immediately beaten by her fellow prisoners in a show of dominance. That night, she got no sleep as the pain was almost too much to bear...
Arrival to the PFG was not at all warm or welcoming. She spent her first night, huddled in the corner of a vast cage where other races forced to compete were located. It was blatantly (and painfully) obvious that there was already a rank system in place and she was at the very bottom of the ladder. It was going to take a miracle to get anywhere here, but she was determined to find her place - even if it meant sacrificing limbs or emotions to do so. But to start, she was going to have to learn who was who and where she really stood on this treacherous totem pole. It all started that first day, when she began to assess her immense competition. None of them appeared quite as underfed and malnourished as she, but then she had come from a source all-together different from most of them - where they were slaves or POWs sold to the highest bidder to fight for the enjoyment of the masses. She just happened to be one lucky nomad who had slaughtered her competition mere moments before she was probably to be set free...
Her first fight, which occurred several weeks later, had all the makings of a bad action holovid. Her opponent was a kid, or what appeared to be a kid; no older than she had been when she was working as a kitchenaid. Her reluctance cost her, resulting in the first of many scars when the child - who she did not expect to attack so suddenly - gouged into her thigh but it was superficial and only caused mild pain. It wasn't long before she was forced to kill the child, strangling him with a length of chain that hung into the arena for the express purpose of being a weapon. That night she did not sleep, but spent those quiet few hours practicing things she had seen the other fighters do. It was the start of her personal training, bolstered by her ability to learn fast.
Her willingness to kill, despite her initial hesitancy, actually boosted her chances of being placed in higher rank for fights. Those that watched had reconsidered her, willing to give her a chance at one of the seasoned fighters. But, she'd come to realize that they were all fairly young and childish -- she had not impressed them enough to consider her for anything other than the weakest of the best. She had to change that and was determined to show them what it was she could do. Despite her lack of combat knowledge, it didn't take long for her to study her opponents and practice during the night. Sleep had long since been deprioritized, thanks to her origins in the caravan where you were lucky to get three hours a night.
Emerging From her Chrysalis;
Lirkahl has started down a path; a path with an ending she wasn't even aware of. The wheres and hows were not important, but she knew that she had to survive. Years later, she would look back and feel as though she should never had made it as far as she had. By the time she was allowed to climb the ladder within the ranks of fighters, it would be hard to see her as the person she was when she had first been deposited in that large cage and beaten to near death. Scar upon scar appeared, but each of her opponents suffered catastrophic loss - whether with the loss of life or utter incapacitation. Her name became known, people bidding on her solely when she would be announced as a fight.
These would be her glory years, her golden phase, where every fight was won with pride and an overwhelming bloodlust. Her hybrid blood was forgotten; she was a murderous butterfly, emerging from her chrysalis at last. Fear permeated the fighter cage, people left her alone or allied with her and managed to help her win by slipping her bits of information in exchange for being protected at night so they could sleep for their match. It was also during this time that she had chosen to shave her head and keep it shaved, preferring to reduce the amount of things that could be used against her. This decision further cermented her reputation, making her even more recognizible.