Briarwood Family/Gwendolyn/A Chance at Glory
Roleplay from Gwendolyn Briarwood
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Gwendolyn: A Chance at Glory
The afternoon sun cast its golden rays upon the bustling docks of Giask, where Lady Gwendolyn Briarwood, dressed in black stained and hardened leather armour adorned with the Briarwood Crest, stood with her unit of twenty-one men, the Briarwood Blackshields. They were gathered on a sturdy ship made of polished cedar, aptly named "The Veil of Briar," readying to set sail on a perilous voyage to Tomb Island to the region of Quebel.
Beside Lady Gwendolyn stood the young ship captain, Thomas, who worked under her father, Elias Briarwood. His eyes darted nervously as he glanced at the Blackshields and then back to Lady Gwendolyn, who wore her long black hair tied in a braid, her piercing sapphire eyes seemingly devoid of any emotion as she watched the horizon.
"Ah, lass," Thomas hesitated, "perhaps it would be wise tae wait fer yer household guard tae be better prepared. They lack experience, still wet behind the ears these lads are, green as grass, and the Tomb Island is nae place fer the unseasoned."
Gwendolyn's voice remained flat and emotionless as she replied, "Thy concern is unnecessary. We depart at eventide."
Thomas spluttered at the retort, "That's...but, my lady. I—"
Gwendolyn interrupted him with cold words, "When the army currently south returns to celebrate their victory and glory after having fought and bled for weeks, I shall not stand amongst them with an unscarred body and a pristine blade."
Thomas looked at her with concern and said, "You know, lass, ye hardly seem dressed to face the monsters of Quebel yerself."
"I said I require no further concern, Captain," Gwendolyn interrupted him, her gaze unyielding. "Ready the ship."
She descended from the ship, her footsteps echoing on the wooden planks of the dock. Gwendolyn began helping her unit and the sailors load supplies onto the ship, her words sharp as she addressed her men and the crew, "Inefficient. Disappointing."
Her unit hurried to keep up, embarrassment evident in their eyes as they worked diligently to quicken their pace. Lady Gwendolyn's demeanour may have seemed cold, but her unit knew her intentions were to instil discipline and strength in the men. The sounds of the docks enveloped them—the creaking of The Veil of Briar as the sea gently rocked it, the clamour of people and sailors busily engaged in their tasks, the distant calls of seabirds, and the soothing rush of the waves caressing the shore.
As the preparations continued, Gwendolyn allowed herself a moment of introspection. Could her men truly prevail against the savage beasts of Quebel? It mattered little, she realized. Win or lose, and she was determined to show the realm that she was no coward.
With the supplies finally loaded, Gwendolyn put down the crate upon reaching the ship's deck. With the preparations finally complete, Gwendolyn surveyed her unit and the sailors, her face still devoid of any emotion. "Rest now, for we have a long voyage ahead," she declared in her flat and blunt voice, her words carrying an air of authority. "May the winds of fate guide us to victory."
In unison, the Blackshields replied, their voices resolute, "May the winds of fate shield us in the wars to come."
Subtly nodding in acknowledgment, Gwendolyn motioned to her men that they were dismissed. As the Blackshields dispersed to find their rest, she turned and walked with unwavering purpose toward the captain's cabin. The night ahead held countless uncertainties, and her mind was focused solely on the challenges that lay ahead.
Inside the cabin, she closed the door, the sounds of the ship gradually fading into the background. Alone in the dimly lit room, Gwendolyn finally allowed herself a moment to reflect, her face still devoid of emotion. With a stoic resolve, she prepared herself for the voyage to come, knowing that the trials they would face on Tomb Island would test not only her men's mettle but her own.
As the night deepened and the ship left port, Gwendolyn remained within the captain's cabin. Her thoughts shrouded in cryptic silence. The winds of fate had set them on this perilous path, and she would navigate it with unwavering determination, ready to face whatever monsters and challenges awaited them in the region of Quebel.
Roleplay from Gwendolyn Briarwood
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Gwendolyn: A Chance for Glory and a Change of Fate
The captain's cabin aboard The Veil of Briar was dimly lit, the soft glow of oil lamps casting dancing shadows across the wooden walls. The ship swayed gently on the sea, the creaking of timbers and the rhythmic sounds of waves against the hull creating a symphony of the maritime morning. Seabirds cried out in the distance, their calls blending with the whisper of the wind. Amidst this orchestration of nature, Gwendolyn sat alone at a round table, her long black hair cascading down her shoulders, melding with the pitch black of her undergarments, her sapphire eyes piercing and unmoving.
Upon the table, before her lay a map, a tableau of military and monstrous movements played out with wooden pieces. Gwendolyn's fingers toyed with a murky grey crystal orb, her expression unchanging as she muttered to herself in cryptic cadence, her voice devoid of emotion. "Winds of fate... the ebb and flow... where do thee send me..."
Abruptly, the cabin's door swung open, revealing a figure at its threshold. The man, a member of her loyal guard, the Blackshields, his left hand hastily shielding his eyes from the unexpected sight of Gwendolyn in her undergarments, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He stammered out an apology. She ignored the soldier's embarrassment.
"Why this morn?" she inquired, her eyes finally shifting from the map to the man before her.
"It is a letter, my lady," he managed to stammer, his gaze now fixed upon the ceiling in his discomfiture. "A... request... from the Heliacal."
Gwendolyn's hand extended, her pale fingers delicate yet commanding. The Blackshield placed the missive in her hand, and she read the words in silence, her expression inscrutable as ever. A corner of her lips quirked almost imperceptibly, her flat voice breaking the silence. "Unanticipated yet welcomed."
Her command was curt: "Notify Captain Thomas to turn the ship towards Askileon."
"At once, my lady," the Blackshield stuttered before hastening out of the cabin, the door closing with an unintentional slam behind him.
Her fingers moved a wooden piece from Qubel to Ciarin Tut, her words muttered like an incantation, "We go where the beasts go..."
Her attention then shifted to the grey crystal orb. Raising it to her face, she pressed her lips against its surface with a faint touch before it was returned to its case. The noble lady walked gracefully to her bed. Over her undergarments, she put on a flowing black nightgown that billowed as she moved. Her gaze turned to the door as she commanded, "Blackshields, approach."
"The winds of fate have shifted," her voice resonated, its flatness betraying nothing. "The Heliacal decrees the beasts of Ciarin Tut to be our quarry."
A collective gasp swept through the assembled soldiers, their faces a canvas of surprise and disbelief, for none expected a command from the Helical himself. Gwendolyn's voice remained as emotionless as the calm sea outside. "You shall perform as befits House Briarwood. Prove your worth."
A murmur of agreement rumbled through the ranks. Gwendolyn's gaze wandered to the sea, contemplating whether her men could truly conquer the beasts of Ciarin Tut. She had read they were twenty in number and fearsome.
"May the winds of fate guide us to victory," she interrupted her own thoughts, her voice punctuating the air. In unison, the Blackshields responded, "May the winds of fate shield us in the wars to come."
With a subtle nod, Gwendolyn dismissed them. As the soldiers filed out, she turned back to the solitude of her cabin. The ship continued its dance upon the waves, and Gwendolyn retreated to her captain's quarters, the mysteries of her mind once again left to the shadows of the early morning.