Gods of the Fall
A young champion who likes to break things.
A young maiden on the cusp of womanhood, Tara is petite tomboy who hasn’t quite wrapped her head around being a “nice young lady.” She keeps her dark brown-to-black hair (depending on lighting) tied up in buns or a pony-tail to keep it out of the way, while her similarly dark eyes stair with an intensity and unabashed lack of modesty that some find uncomfortable. Her skin is pale, her cheeks rosy, and her hands do not carry the calloused signature of someone who has had to work for a living, but her limbs have the musculature of a gymnast or dancer, packing a lot of muscle usually hidden by whatever clothing she wears. Though she typically wears whatever circumstances requite, she has a preference for red and white colors, often preferring outfits allowing pants over dresses for ease of movement.
Tara was raised by an upwardly mobile merchant family, not that she ever payed much attention to their pretensions of class. She was always embarrassing them with her preference for climbing trees or chasing frogs with the peasant boys. In an attempt to advance their station, her father decided to sell her off to a minor lord as a concubine-wife when she hit adolescence, an idea Tara didn’t cotton to. When they packed her up on a Yak in her bridal finery for the wedding procession she grabbed the reigns and whipped it into a frenzy, riding for freedom. She got as far as Corso, where she was caught up in a slave-hunting sweep. Stripped of all the trappings of her old life and thrown into a cell with strangers hasn’t daunted her in the least. Just trading one prison for another. Just more people thinking they can force her into a role she doesn’t want.
Nobody backs baby in a corner. Nobody.