[color=007236][b]House:[/b] Tully[/color]


[hider=Irenya Tully]

[color=007236][b]Age:[/b] 23 born in 12 AC[/color]

[color=007236][b]Appearance:[/b][img]https://heroineimages.files.wordpress.com/2013/12/knight1.jpg[/img][/color]



[color=007236][b]Description & biography:[/b][/color]

Irenya had the same lustrous hair and beautiful eyes of her kin.  But what truly distinguished her was that she was always possessed of an especially large stature, even from an early age.  Standing over six feet in height, in her sock feet and broad of shoulder, she would have been an imposing figure, even for a man.  But she moved with a skill and careful grace that would have been the envy of nearly any dancer.  While she was a decent enough seamstress, she also possessed a lovely voice and proved to be an adept player of the lute.  So when the women of the household or from some other family sought to make their whispered japes, Irenya was always more than happy to demonstrate her skills and agility.  

Though she knew such things would only garner more jealousy and spite, she was more than happy to silence those who would mock her.  But these things of the noble court were never truly her chief passion.  While she spent many hours with the Maesters and in the library, she was always more to keen to learn of the great deeds done by mighty knights in days gone by.  As her childhood waned, she spent more time evading her Septa and watching the young squires and lords train to be warriors.

While she had neither Prentys' lordly skills or Raulf's clever tongue or Abigael's skills as a lady, she had a heart for those who could not help themselves and a strong sense of duty and right.

Her singing and instrument playing turned more towards songs of war and as she read about tales of mystery knights.  One year, she was gifted a small pony for her birthday and as time passed, she rode farther afield.  As Irenya grew older and learned something more of the world, she quickly realized that some men were so foolish as to be intimidated by her strength and size.  Others were nothing like the knightly heroes she'd read about.  Some even seemed to be little different than the brigands they hunted, aside from having better armor.

One evening, as she rode back home, she recalled a line from a song about a mystery and asked herself a question; why not her?  Such things were hardly considered the proper lot of a lady born from a great house.  But then, no one would have to know would they?  Besides, the crowd at any tourney always lived a mystery knight.

So it was that young Irenya began carefully hoarding whatever funds she could come by, any way she could obstain them.  She watched the knights and squires train and then carefully mimicked their movements late at night in her chambers.  She would ride out and practice jousting on the spirited mare she'd been gifted for her 13th birthday.  But she knew that such things were still no substitute for real training and sparring.  So, she wrote a letter to an armsmaster from King's Landing and promised to pay him for her training, provided that she could wear her helm the entire time.

The old armsmaster, a crusty old codger by the name of Hollam, had trained his share of strange young nobles and found their coin all spent the same.  So by night, in the ruins of an old chapel, Hollam trained and sparred with what he believed to some foolish young nobleman seeking to preserve his mystery knight identity.  So over the years, Irenya trained in the evenings and practiced in the privacy of her chambers.  As time passed, she was able to scrape together funds for a warhorse and the armor of a knight.

Finally, at the age of sixteen, Irenya faked illness to avoid going with her family and entered a tourney as a mystery knight.  Though she took her fair share of hits, she did well enough for herself and left before she found an opponent that could unhorse her.  As she hide her armor and changed back into the garments of a noble lady, she had to admit that she felt . . . more disappointed than anything else.  There had been no real thrill.  She didn't feel any glory in it.  And she couldn't say why.

During one of the last times she trained with Hollam, the old warrior mentioned riding out against some former hedge knights turned bandit.  It was then Irenya realized her problem.  All the pomp and pageantry did nothing to ease the plight of those that a knight was sworn to protect.  A tourney could be a place for a knight to hone his skills but what of those who needed their aid the most but never received it?  So it was that Irenya practied all she'd learned with renewed vigor and began to ride the roads late at night.  Or if her household traveled to visit another lord or to a neighboring hold, she would venture out at night and quietly listen at taverns or in markets.  Irenya also learned a great deal as to what the smallfolk thought and their many struggles.

So by day, Irenya danced, sang and sowed with the women of her household.  If she spent a great deal of time out on her horse or with her hounds and falcons, that was just reckoned to be her way.  After all, the lady Irenya still conducted herself as a proper lady.  As far as anyone in House Tully believed, she would no doubt go on to be a great Septa someday.  After all, Abigeal was a fine lady and would no doubt make some suitor a fine match.  Though it still stung, Irenya was happen enough to let that silent perception stand.  After all, it sustained the illusion.  By night she would practice all she had learned with weighted blades and lances.  She would lift looped iron bells and practice climbing and vaulting into the saddle in full harness.  If she wasn't training her falcon or her dogs, she would hunt with bow and spear.  But at last the day came when she finally had to put those skills into practice.

At nineteen, Irenya was riding home, thinking of which sally port might be the best one to sneak back in by, when she stumbled across the bodies of a merchant family in a ditch.  The muddy rode bore the clear signs of cart and horse and the footprints of a half-dozen men bearing the weight of armor.

Unsure of how much her skills would avail her against multiple armed men, Irenya instead snuck through the woods and found the bandits back at their camp.  As the moon rose and the night winds wailed, Irenya waited for the drunken bandits to fall into a slumber and then she quietly dispatched them with her dagger.

But their chief was not drunk as that and bandits are not a trusting lot.  The man, a burly warrior with a bristling beard, had slept in his armor.  As soon he realized what was happening, he rose with a shout like to wake the dead and despite his drunkenness, still had some skill with a blade.  Irenya, having shed most of her armor to sneak through the woods, was forced to use every one of her deadly skills in a desperate fight by the flickering flames.  At last, having kicked a burning log towards the bandit and gaining a handful of precious seconds, Irenya cut the murderous rogue down and sagged to the ground.

If anyone noticed her exhaustion the next morning, they simply attributed it to the ways of a woman who was known to be quiet bookish and perhaps stayed up a little later than she should have.  But Irenya was nearly beside herself with fierce joy.  She'd proven to a deadly foe and to herself that she was worthy of knighthood, if only in her own eyes.  So it went, over the years, that Irenya would continue to maintain the facade she'd carefully cultivated.  A young noblewoman of good breeding and courtesy, possessing all the skills a lady of a great house should.  A handsome and well-spoken woman, though most likely destined for spinsterhood.

But by night, Irenya would ride out, bearing a device of two entwined roses, each mode of rusted iron.  Over the next five years, robber knights and brigands would learn to fear the Knight of the Iron Rose.  The roads throughout the Riverlands became much safer and it was said that a lone woman might very well be able to walk the streets alone at night.  Though of course were so reckless as to try and put that to the test.

When she found time, Irenya would enter the tourneys as a mystery knight and take a certain spiteful joy in unhorsing those who had no idea of her true identity.  Between her bandit hunting and the tourney, she was able to mass enough funds to gain a fine suit of armor, a great black mace, two good destriers and plenty of fodder.  Though it was said that the Iron Rose never took more than a small ransom from any knight "he" had unhorsed, and would never leave a man bereft of armor and warhorse.

[/hider]




[@Ruby] [@Vanq] [@Almalthia]