Difference between revisions of "Briarwood Family/Gwendolyn/Briarmarch, Fufilled"

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Latest revision as of 08:59, 15 August 2023

Roleplay from Gwendolyn Briarwood

Message sent to all nobles of Luria Nova (24 recipients)

Gwendolyn: Briarmarch, Fulfilled.

The morning sun cast a golden hue across the land as the Sentinels of the Golden Palace advanced, their armour glinting with an almost ethereal radiance. At the head of the formation strode Lady Gwendolyn, her steps measured and deliberate, her gaze fixed ahead. She wore an ornate suit of armour, intricately designed, but her presence was devoid of any vanity or ostentation. Her face, serene and inscrutable, revealed no trace of emotion.

Silently, Gwendolyn led her men across the bridge that marked the entrance to the region of Orz. Behind her, Captain Sevoria, her second in command, grinned with a touch of anticipation. "The beasts are rushing us already," she laughed, her voice carrying a vibrancy that contrasted sharply with Gwendolyn's demeanour. "Look to the west, they move with the grace of a one-legged ogre."

Gwendolyn's response was a simple lifting of her hand, an unspoken command. The soldiers pivoted, shifting their formation to face the west, preparing to charge.

As Gwendolyn drew her sword, a shimmering silver blade that seemed to catch the sun's rays and turn them into liquid light, the Sentinels shifted seamlessly into a wedge formation, with Gwendolyn at the tip of the formation. In the distance, a thunderous rhythm began to build, the pounding of dozens of monstrous feet. Gwendolyn's voice rang out, flat and unyielding: "Advance."

The early morning air resonated with an ominous symphony of impending conflict. The horde of beasts came barreling towards the Sentinels, their growls and snarls merging into a cacophonous crescendo. Then, with a sudden burst of sound, Gwendolyn and her unit charged forward, an indomitable force against the tide of monsters. The Sentinels collided with the beasts, catching them off guard, their charge blunted by the sheer momentum and ferocity of the Sentinel's advance.

The clash was brutal and swift. A clash of steel against scales, the screams of men, the roars of beasts. Red blood and dark ichor mingled on the battlefield, the ground beneath their feet becoming a canvas of violence. Gwendolyn moved like a phantom through the chaos, her blade a swift and lethal extension of her will, cutting down beasts and leaving shattered lines in her wake. The Sentinels surged forward, their ranks pushing back the encroaching horde.

The melee persisted for nearly half an hour, a relentless dance of death and survival. And then, as the last of the beasts fell dead at Gwendolyn's feet, she withdrew her shimmering silver blade from a fallen monster's skull. Her eyes swept across the battlefield, taking in the sight of fallen foes. None had escaped.

Cheers erupted from the Sentinels and Captain Sevoria. They celebrated their victory, shouting triumphantly that the day was theirs. The captain approached Gwendolyn, a triumphant smile on her face. "My lady, you don't look happy. Come join the cheer. This day is ours." Gwendolyn turned her gaze upon Sevoria, her sapphire eyes as enigmatic as ever. "This day belongs to no one living," she cryptically stated, her voice devoid of inflection. With that, she began to clean her sword, her attention already moving beyond the battlefield.

As the soldiers dispersed to attend to the grim task of burning the beastly bodies, Gwendolyn allowed herself a rare moment of reprieve. She exhaled softly, and a faint smile touched her lips For the first time in a long time, she looked up at the sun, its warmth caressing her face. The wind played with her long black hair, and her sapphire eyes sparkled with a fleeting light.

"Briarmarch. Fulfill. Rest now, your souls are released," she murmured softly, her words carried away by the wind.

A sudden gust stirred around her, and Gwendolyn's smile faded. She glanced over her shoulder at the departing Sentinels, her thoughts hidden behind her inscrutable facade. Walking to her horse, she began to write a letter to the Heliacal, her steed's saddle serving as her impromptu writing desk. When the missive was complete, she sealed it and summoned a servant to send it to the Heliacal.

With her duty fulfilled, Gwendolyn walked to a nearby rock and seated herself, her eyes closing slowly as she hummed a quiet tune, Gwendolyn's humming carried on the wind, a fragile melody that wafted through the aftermath of the battle. It was serene, almost otherworldly in its tranquillity as if the notes themselves held the secret to an ancient, forgotten song. Yet, beneath the surface of that soothing sound, there was a hollowness that seemed to echo with the void she felt within herself. The notes resonated like chimes in an empty hall, creating an eerie harmony.

And for just a moment, Gwendolyn let her song carry her sorrow, the pain of a cold and hollow heart.