Name: Tarrya Khoroushi
Age: 27
Gender: Female
Race: Human


Personality: Tarrya has two personalities, one for the battlefield and one for... well, anything not the battlefield. On the battlefield she has no sense of humor and knows no mercy, expecting none in return. She speaks in a voice used to shouting over the din of war and has no tolerance for inefficiency. Out of her armor however, is a different matter altogether. She was raised by a scholarly mother, and like mother, like daughter. She spends her free time reading, usually. At odds with her battlefield persona, she's generally shy and reserved, happier spending her time in the pages of a book than carousing and drinking. That is not to say she avoids other people altogether, and a good, thought provoking conversation is as good as any book to her.

Brief Backstory:
Name a people under the sun, and Tarrya has probably fought some of them. In truth, any mercenary as well traveled as she could make this claim, but Tarrya has knowledge of the world to back it up.

Raised as a member of the low nobility - and destitute nobility at that, Tarrya originally never dreamed of making war her profession. Instead, she buried her nose in dusty tomes of ancient lore and modern science. She dreamed of unraveling the mysteries of the universe, and aimed to become a scholar and scientist, not only learning all that she could from others, but pushing the boundaries of mortal understanding further, to invent new and amazing devices. Even as she read and studied, she trained with the blade - more as a formality than anything else, but it was an enjoyable sport to her, and good excercise.

Unfortunately, the universe did not have the same purpose in mind for her that she did. To enroll at one of the great universities of the land took money, and money was something they had precious little of. Still enough to send her though, if just barely. That all changed one day, as her family lost most of what little money they did have and became peasants in all but name. Her dreams crushed, Tarrya wasted little time in moping, searching around for other paths in life to take.

Throughout her late night binge readings and general bookish life, Tarrya had read the autobiographies of adventurers and mercenaries, losing herself for a time in great battles and letting her wanderlust run wild through the pages. These stories came back to her at this time, and she resolved to join a mercenary company herself and achieve fame.

Her parents forbade it.

Undeterred, she stole away in the night about a week after, taking a small amount of gold with her to purchase arms and armor. She joined up with a smaller company in the area, and spent a year wiping out brigands and other dregs of society, steadily growing more experienced and skilled. She rose through the ranks surprisingly rapidly, eventually becoming a top lieutenant of the company, which by then had grown to become a sizeable force.

Her downfall came when, patrolling around a village, a group of bandits had crept in and murdered some villagers, taking the rest as hostages. Tarrya and a small contingent of crossbowmen and sergeants were the only force in the area, and they immediately rushed to the village’s aid. However, Tarrya’s many years of seeing death and devastation had hardened her heart and made her into a callous woman. When negotiations failed she simply ordered her crossbowmen to kill the bandits, regardless of how many villagers died. To “teach the bastards a lesson that hostages won’t work on us” as she had said.

She was stripped of her rank and arrested for the action. While she saw it as perfectly justifiable, others did not. In order to avoid harsher punishment, Tarrya promised to atone for her crime, joining the Blades of Iron Roses to defend the weak.

Or at least that was the line she fed them. In truth Tarrya didn’t care, the murder of the villagers was regrettable, but she felt no guilt in her heart. Nonetheless, she joined the Order as the retainer of one of the knights, accompanying him into battle and other duties. Nobody had informed her, however, that the new leader of the Order was an sixteen year old girl.

Equipment:

Heavy Brigandine Armor and Helmet (As seen in appearance section): What it looks like on the tin, a heavy duty set of sturdy brigandine armor consisting of tough layered steel plates riveted together and sandwiched between hardened leather - essentially forming a cuirass, albeit far cheaper and easier to create. The armor is incredibly durable, having saved her hide on more than one occasion from axe, sword, and mace blows that surely would’ve been her undoing otherwise. The armor is worn over mail and a padded gambeson.

Lucerne Hammer: A lethal weapon, spanning about three feet in length. Its primary function is as an anti-cavalry weapon, but is just as effective as a can opener, the brutal spike at the end equally useful for dragging an armored horseman off his mount as it is punching through his plate once off said horse.

Langes Messer: A brutal weapon with a self evident singular purpose - cleaving through as much flesh as possible. A strong blade, keen edge, and good quality steel ensure that this weapon will do exactly that.

Rondel Dagger: A weapon of last resort for armored fighting, when grappling with a knight, a quick thrust through his visor with the dagger is a surefire way of ending the confrontation.

Skills:
Weapon Master: Tarrya has been fighting for years, almost all of those fights to the death. She’s still alive. Her experience with all manner of weapons is nothing to shake a stick at, but give her a hefty sword or hammer and she has nary an equal, or at least, equals are a rare sight, and an unwelcome one if an enemy.
Leadership: Tarrya spent two years as a lieutenant in a prestigious mercenary company. Such a posting does not come easily, and in mercenary work there is no room for nepotism. She has thus acquired a good handle on commanding troops in the tactical sense, able to rally a second wind in exhausted soldiers and sense the opportune moment in a battle.
Sixth Sense: Years of fighting for a living have honed Tarrya’s awareness of her surroundings to a razor keen edge. It’s not quite a true sixth sense, but she’s highly unlikely to be caught by surprise by that angry infantryman with the nasty looking axe.