Urominiel Family/Gwaethinriel

Gwaethinriel

Realms:Carelia, Voghor, Sandalak(SEI), Highland Empire, Kaltaran, Sartania, Perdan, Ikalak(SEI), Vlaandaran
Positions:High Marshal Currently:Deceased.

Arrival

Gwaethinriel finally stepped onto dry land after a long jouney from the south islands. She despised the sea breeze flowing through her hair and the smell of salt on everything around the port. "The rogue port of Sasrhas, Im starting to feel at home already" She thought. She wandered through the streets ruled by anarachy and governed by chaos. A few bodies littered the streets but she couldnt tell if they were dead or just had too much to drink. The streets were still full of rogues, smugglers and pirates moving back and forth from taverns and pubs. Many eyed her but most were too drunk to notice. She cleaned the blood stains off her dagger as she left the city from the south, hoping she didnt draw too much attention to herself in that little scuffle.

To be Titled

Her last order as general of the Highlands was issued, Gwaethinriel stepped away from gathering army and returned to the battlefield. Walking amongst the bodies she questioned the reason why she had remained in the Highland empire, perhaps it was a sense of duty, but that wasnt the reason she came to the far east continent.

Dragging a dead Lasanar soldier from the field Gwae slips off his uniform and dresses herself in it. Jon was dead, the empire would crumble, and she would rather be on the side of the victor, but first she would visit her father. Since she had became a noble her hatred from him gradually declined, she only wanted to see him again. She no longer faulted him for abandoning her, after having witness so many deaths in the past few years she was just glad he was still alive.

A New Life

Gwaethinriel awoke to the muddied sands clinging to her face, the water softly brushing her hair away allowing a ray of sunlight to radiate its glowing warmth into her vision. She lay there in the delta indulging in the comfort of her sandy bed and frigid blanket. Slowly she began to feel the penetrating pain in her extremities, the cold touch that emanated from her core. Pushing herself off the sands, Gwaethinriel made her way to a nearby thicket. She gathered what she could to conjure up a fire and dry the water kissed rags that she wore.

Having little memory of the incident, or anything else for that matter she examined the items that she had: A short sword that she wore on the belt around her waist; a coin purse, empty; a few bits of paper, no doubt former letters ravaged by the ocean; A watch glass, useful for starting fires; and a few other bits of junk that could possibly be peddled off for a silver coin or two. Her clothes, though now wore and water-logged appeared to be expensive and of military design.

It was nearing midday now and the only thing she had had to eat or drink was sea water for who knows how long. The rustling bushes hinted at something perhaps edible resided in them. Gripping her sword, she moved as silently as she could towards the beast or monster or lunch that made the noise. She made quick work of the animals and after her meal turned their heads in for a small bounty to fill her purse. Now with warm dry clothes, a filled stomach, still oh so very confused, Gwaethinriel paid to hitch a cart towards the city.

The Black Scythe of Slaying

Gwaethinriel came upon an odd fellow during her investigations for undead and monster activity in Arrmol. He sat on and old log tinkering, but with what she couldnt see clearly. She approached him but he cut her off before she could speak. "Your one of them adventuring types, arent you. Well there are no undead or monsters around here. I know what you're after. If you leave the undead and monster for my stomach, I can craft one for you with that flintstone there. However I need one other item, some large antlers. If you can bring them to me before dinner I will have an item for you." Gwaethinriel called to Xyola, the two always stayed within earshot of each other. Xyola produced a pair of antlers. The man fiddled with the flintstone, trying to the light a fire. "You two standing there make me nervous. Now I must be going or my dinner will be cold" He handed the items back to Gwaethinriel and Xyola, leaving them in the clearing baffled as he disappeared into the dense foliage.

On their return trip after scouring the region, they saw the man again, sitting on the same log. "Ah there you are, I would have invited you to dinner but undead and monsters are scarce in this area. Now you still have the antlers and flintstone don't you." He took out a sack of white powder and poured it on the grass and lit it with the flintstone. "This is much easier on a full stomach." he said as a brilliant black flame erupted on the spot. Gwaethinriel and Xyola watched in amazement as he passed the antlers through the flame, melting and moulding them with his hands. Then he shaped the flintstone in the flame into a sleek curved blade. The two items now charred black and melded together formed a formidable weapon, The Black Scythe of Slaying.

Gwaethinriel held the scythe, charred black yet polished and surprisingly cool to the touch. Glimpses of her pass came flowing back as she held the weapon, the undead, the chaos, the abandonment, the loneliness. She gripped the scythe and vowed to purge the undead from the land.

From Deep Within

Gwaethinriel Awoke, sweating profusely. Her sheets moist and her breathing quick and deep. Her body felt cold, alone, abandoned. That dream, no it was a nightmare, too vivid. Those things, yes things, they were certainly not human though they might have been in the past. She had slain many, many times through, but these images struck deep into her heart. Her thoughts disjointed. The sense of fear and dread clung to her like perspiration on her body. This was no dream.

...a few days later...

Gwaethinriel stumbled off the ship at its last stop in the city of Reeds. Disjointed she wandered the city, her dreams of nights passed still haunting her. Yes this was it, she had walked these streets before. Many years ago only waist high beside her father when he was a noble of Silantin. The glimpses of her past came flashing back like daggers in the dark. The hordes, the dreams, how she would have to face them each night, alone, abandoned.

...A few weeks later...

Gwaethinriel was found on the floor of her tent, blood streaming from every orifice. It would seem the undead had finally gotten to her.