Nobody knows exactly where Rishti was born, and if anybody would know, he would probably deny the knowledge anyway. It is more or less certain though that this squirrel comes, not very much unlike most other squirrels in Calabria, from a smaller tribe in a forest area. (Now, this narrows down the choices a lot, doesn't it?) He was never a very good squirrel among his own kind, and brought no good whatsoever to the community at large. There was only one thing he was really proficient at: stealing things. If he had developed his dexterous talent to other ends, perhaps learned a trade or at least something semi-honest like the not-quite-magical performance branch known as conjuring, everything would have turned out differently. Instead, he always got the blame when something was missing, displaced or simply went wrong. A natural scapegoat, you might think, but perhaps things were not so unfair as they seemed. In most cases, it was Rishti's fault when something went awry.

During his adolescence, the squirrel community not as much tolerated but rather endured Rishti's behaviour, and the general meaning was that he would in time put his talents to the greater good of them all. Of course, our little "hero" knew exactly what he thought about such notions, and though he trained hard, his method of practise mostly consisted of various procedures of displacing valuables. The whole business took a much more serious turn when one day a senior member of the tribe, with whom Rishti had an especially object-reorienting disagreement, was found brutally murdered with a knife in his throat. Shortly thereafter, the tribe was yet another squirrel shorter, and everyone agreed that the squirrel Rishti never existed.

Not quite aware of his entering the realm of oblivion, although suspicious of something along those lines, Rishti fled at top speed, not stopping until he was more or less hauled in by the local constabulary in a lesser town, the name of which is also forgotten. If that town would ever step forth and acknowledge the dubious honour of being the first city to harbor this notorious Consultant of Unexpected Precious Item Transports, that city is welcome to do so, although it would hardly be worth the trouble. Once out of jail, Rishti began his sickly twisting path of crime.

A few years of pick-pocketing, stealing, and grabbing things that Risthi decided would be better managed by himself (foremost money), made the squirrel a bit more thick-skinned and definitely very pragmatic. Somewhere along the road he left a body behind that doubtlessly had belonged to someone else. The separation of aforementioned body and until then accompanying soul was performed in sheer self defense, no doubt, but Rishti's twisted little rodent soul was thence forever stained with blackness. Assassin, first by general assumption, and later by deed, the squirrel kept his secret deep inside, for nobody must ever be allowed to know such a ghastly thing. (Plus the more down-to-earth reason, of course, that such a talent might be much more useful when not publically known).

Something that was not hidden in obscurity though, at least among the constabulary of a couple of dozen cities and countless towns, was Rishti's skill as a pickpocket. He was often spotted in crowds but very seldom caught and as time went by, he fine-tuned his profession to a high-precision art; never stopping to consider all the consequences of his actions, at least not the ones not directly involving himself. Rishti was never a profound philosopher. Though he had quite a quick wit, the level of his intellect could be abbreviated to: Squirrel, and even that was an overstatement.

How he came into contact with the party of adventurers is well known, and not very flattering, but for some reason (possibly because they saved his life or something just as nonsensically sentimental) he stayed with them, and with a bit of backup, his confidence grew. He became more extroverted, and his personality began a rapid transition, often called something as fancy as "maturing". Though some parts of his soul ripened, others didn't, and in the end he became a very unpredictable character, torn between his past, his darker secrets, hid friends and a novel but never dominating aspect of him; a twisted, though recognizable state of to him unnatural and alien mind set that could be described as something vaguely resembling a fragment of conscience. Not that it ever stopped him from doing anything illegal though, mind you.

During a particularily dramatic series of events, Rishti managed to get himself seriously hurt, and on top of that, thrown in jail, naked and without any belongings. Since he blamed the rest of the party for not being there for him, he decided (after breaking out of jail, of course) to seek fortune elsewhere, and is now following a trail that noone but a squirrel would understand (or so he thinks).

If you are out there, walking the streets of Triskellian, I can only give you one tip: Spend your money fast, or it will be "justified" away from you when small and agile squirrelly hands reach into your pocket, or a knife that could slice a razor blade in three, easily slits your pouch. After all, it's a jungle out there, and a squirrel's got to do what a squirrel´s got to do... or?