Name: Tanja Forst
Mug:
Sprite:
Bloodline: Bloodless
Class: Myrmidon > Swordmaster
Character Skill: Charisma
Affinity: (leave this blank; it will be rolled for later by me)
Personal Fault:
Chanson de Geste: When attacking a unit that can't counterattack, Tanja cannot roll for critical damage.
Personal Skills:
/The Fortunate Son: When above 50% max HP, +10 to Hit and Evade
//Doppelsöldner: When adjacent to two units, +10 crit
///Espirit de Corps: When within 3 spaces of 3 allied units, Tanja's support bonuses are increased by 50%.
Preferred Stats:
Speed, Skill
Weapon Profs: Sword (D), Crushing (C)
Total Level: 1
Level: Myrmidon 1
HP: 20 (+2) (50%)
STR: 5 (70%)
MAG: 1 (0%)
SKL: 6 (65%)
LCK: 3 (20%)
DEF: 2 (50%)
RES: 0 (+1) (20%)
SPD: 7 (+1 (60%)
CON: 6 (+2)
AID: 7-1
MOV: 5
Bio: (Cont, 75% done)
The daughter of an Alestian blacksmith and innkeeper, Tanja was raised in a North Alestian port city, an urbanized hub of commerce that brought a constant influx of travelers from all over the Khalderan archipelago into her family home.
Trained to use the forge, and mind the inn from an early age, Tanja found brief respite in the ballads that a local bard would perform every other night. The tales of valor and heroism by the chosen and their descendants alike inspiring the young girl to entertain fantastical, if ill defined dreams of greatness, often banding together with groups of like minded children to play pretend at war, and regale each other with one tall tale after another.
But while the dream faded for many of her friends, it only grew clearer in Tanja’s mind with every passing year. Until she found herself no longer content with simply hearing or recounting the heroism and valor of others, and yearned to carve out a place in history for herself, and have the bards sing praises of her name throughout the age.
And yet, many more uneventful years would pass before an opportunity presented itself, when the warring kingdoms of Dunland and Westwind called upon ‘foreign volunteers’ and mercenaries alike to bolster their own ranks. The promise of adventure, excitement, and heroism struck a chord within the young Alestian, who chose to leave everything behind. Bringing along nothing but the clothes on her back, a small coin purse, and a self made sword she didn’t know how to wield to the nearest recruiter, who was eventually convinced to sign her on despite her inexperience, for her skill as a blacksmith and cook if nothing else.
But it didn’t take long before reality began to catch up with her, bit by bit. While she imagined herself with sword in hand, and her head held high as she charged from one glorious moment after another, what she got was a spear, a slightly oversized suit of armor, and a nigh endless march that wore a little on her enthusiasm. Still, she tried her best to take it in stride, putting her all into the basic training she was given, and spending what little free time she had to practice with her blade, mastering one wrong way to swing a blade after another in secret.
Unfortunately, it didn’t take long before the others noticed her nighttime excursions, and while most simply laughed or shook their heads in disbelief, there was one who stood out among the rest. She didn’t laugh, she simply pulled Tanja aside, sighed, and told her that she can’t in good conscience let someone like that carry a sword around, but seeing as they would be fighting together, she might as well try to teach her how to wield one tonight, just enough to keep her from hurting herself of course.
She took that first lesson, and the promise of another to heart as she fought and bled in her first battle. The dreams of heroic glory, the thought of finally mastering the blade, and absolutely nothing else keeping her steadfast where others would falter. Until at last the enemy was routed, the battle was won, and the swordswoman would find herself frankly baffled at Tanja’s continued survival, in a cycle of hard fought battle and training that would repeat itself time and time again.
And yet, even as she grew in experience and pay, even as her standing amongst the other mercenaries changed from the laughing stock that she was to a respected veteran, something was still missing from her life. She certainly did her best to be upright and honorable in all of her doings, and her fellow mercenaries would tell tall tales of her valor and skill at arms, but it just wasn’t enough somehow. There was still that look of disdain in the eyes of her superiors, and even among the common soldiery, who saw her as nothing more than a common mercenary at best loyal, who was only to gold, and a gloryhound and poseur at worst.
It gnawed at her, the thought or fear that no matter what she did, and no matter what she accomplished, that she would never be seen as anything more. But something clicked in Tanja’s mind as her thoughts drifted back to home, as a simple solution presented itself from the ballads she still knew by heart. The Maiden Warriors, everyone has heard of them, everyone knows and respects them for the heroes they are, and everyone knows that they offer their services to whichever side or cause they believe in.
Of course, technically speaking, the Maiden Warriors are noblewomen one and all, and she was as lowborn as they came, but did that really matter? She could fight as hard and well as any of them can, and she was as chivalrous and honorable as they come. And if she acted like one, and fought like one, then who in their right mind would ever say otherwise? All she had to do was leave, and find someone who would actually believe her.
With her mind made up, Tanja had one last toast with her former companions, and left the past two years of her life behind, bringing nothing along but a battered and well worn sword, and a hefty sum of money. Which she mostly spent on a new breastplate, and an outfit that would better suit such a fine and upstanding heroine as herself.
It took a fair bit of effort before she could find someone eager enough to hire a ‘genuine’ Maiden warrior that she could finesse them into glossing over the petty details of her past, but when she did it was worth every moment. As long as they believed her, she was more than just another expendable mercenary to press into battle, she was an inspiration, a fellow knight, and a heroic volunteer to treat with the respect one deserves. And whenever the ‘magic’ started to wear off, whenever someone got too suspicious, or looked too deeply into her past. She could always cite the maiden warrior’s oath, and leave to try again with a different knight, or a different commander.
But in her mind, it wouldn’t be long until she could stop pretending, until it would simply be unthinkable to see her as anything less than the noble warrior she claimed to be. Unfortunately, her own arrogance would soon catch up to her, and after a seemingly routine interview, she found herself blindsided with an offhand comment made by her new commander, that he must be the luckiest man in the world, after all, how many could boast to have two maiden warriors in their retinue?