Tarhos Kovacs's Questionnaire

Tarhos is a wanderer, with his home lost to time like everything else and in a strange new world, he has no concrete home currently and he does what he knows. Camping, although it’s not quite like how it was during the crusades, no more drunken laughter from his fellows. Just the crackling fire and his quiet contemplation of the retaking of Jerusalem. His camps usually have the bare essentials, a tanning rack for any animal he might’ve caught that day, an obligatory campfire of course, a lean to of some sort to shelter him from the worst of the elements, and a latrine a few 30 meters away. One camp was recently intruded upon by a strange Jewish man, so Tarhos is always on edge while in his campsites.

Being from the 1300s and winding up in the present day, Tarhos is confronted with the perplexing concept of money. Accustomed to a barter system and a world of chivalric codes, Tarhos finds himself in a modern labyrinth of transactions governed by currency. His bewilderment is palpable as he grapples with the abstract notion of value assigned to pieces of paper and metal. From his point of view money is unnecessary when he could simply take what he wants and kill those who oppose him. He learned recently from an unlikely friend in a strange desert that the world has changed a lot and he can no longer simply kill and plunder, so he will have to find a way to fit in to this strange system.

Tarhos is from the crusades, and despite thinking the god most men fought for was a load of shit he still felt at home on the battlefield, like he was meant to kill those weaker than him and take their land from them. After 700 years in a dark cave, this sentiment still carries on in his undying heart. While he may not have any army with which to do it currently, Tarhos can still accomplish one single goal that those before him died for. To retake Jerusalem, he does not want to do this for a god of any kind or for any racial prejudices, he simply wishes to complete what he couldn't 700 years ago. And may god have mercy on any who try to stop him, as he surely won't. If he must die for this goal, so be it, but he will not go gentle into that goodnight. He will rage into the dying of the light as any true warrior would.

The most defining event of Tarhos' life was not the cave he was trapped in for what felt like an eternity but it was actually his first kill on a battlefield. He was trained by what he thought to be the very best of the pope's army but he was still shaking with nervous excitement as he marched into battle. And when the charge began he was almost trampled by the much more experienced men around him, but he was saved from this pitiful end by none other than the man that trained him who looked upon him with such disdain it made Tarhos sick to his stomach. He swallowed his shame and charged forth with newly found vigor and looked for the nearest person not draped in the churches armor and cloth, and when he found them a man who had felled at least three soldiers and was moving onto another, Tarhos moved before he could even think about what he was going to do. He plunged his sword into the man's side and without hesitation and with great effort, he pulled his sword out and swung it as hard as he could at the man's neck in hopes that he would decapitate him. The man's head did not come off entirely, as Tarhos could not cut through the man's spine. But as he removed his sword the man's neck opened up. And Tarhos' fate was sealed as a killing machine.

Tarhos was never particularly close with anyone but he did consider a select few his comrades. Baldwin, a stout young man with long blonde hair and a proficiency with Axe's. Constantius, an incredibly devout man with a long black beard, a scar over his eye, and a proficiency with the bow, and while Tarhos did not agree with his religious practice, he respected Constantius' skill. And finally the closest to him, the man whom trained him in the way of the blade. Ekkehard, a tall man with short red hair and a preference for getting up close and personal, Ekkehard wielded his rage better than any blade which Tarhos respected above all else. But this was a long, long time ago and these men are no longer around to share drinks with Tarhos, but on quiet nights by the fire, he can still envision them drinking merrily with him into the night.

Tarhos had parents, but all he remembers of them are his mother's dying screams and his father choking on a blade shoved into his throat. His childhood was filled with blissful ignorance until his village was razed by an army during the crusades and he was taken as a child slave that polished armor, brushed horses, cleaned the stables, etc. He was caught by his future mentor Ekkehard, waving a stick around trying to mimic what he saw the man doing with his sword. And after being punished for slacking off, Tarhos was taken under Ekkehard's wing and trained rigorously to be a killing machine, another cog in the pope's war machine. One day this Ekkehard was felled in battle and driven by rage at the death of the closest thing to a father he had known, Tarhos slew the large man that dealt the final blow to Ekkehard in brutal fashion, and this accomplishment and with Ekkehard's prior recommendation Tarhos was appointed to lead in Ekkehard's place. 

Tarhos was in love once, a young slave girl that showed him his first act of pure hearted kindness. He had been punched by a drunk soldier and fell down, a young girl named Isabella was appointed to care for him and treat his wounds. Never before this since he had been enslaved was he shown even a hint of kindness. Isabella was simply a kindhearted and beautiful young woman and Tarhos was a slave to his newfound love for Isabella, until a fateful day where one of their camps was attacked and Isabella was killed right in front of him. It was at this moment, that Tarhos decided love was for the weak and he could NOT be weak ever again.