Briarwood Family/Gwendolyn/The Battle of Ciarin Tut

Roleplay from Gwendolyn Briarwood

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

Gwendolyn: The Battle of Ciarin Tut

The early morning sun cast feeble rays over the region of Ciarin Tut, painting the landscape with muted hues. Gwendolyn, the noble lady, led her battalion of infantry, the Blackshields, with an air of detached authority. Clad in gleaming armor, her long silver blade—etched with the patterns of thorns and vines—hung at her side. Her expression, devoid of emotion, betrayed no hint of the impending conflict.

Amidst the Blackshields marched the Sallowtown Spearmen, their formations tight and determined. Gwendolyn's cold demeanor held the attention of her men as they silently ventured toward the outskirts of a desolated village. Monstrous creatures ravaged the once-thriving settlement. As the creatures wreaked havoc, Gwendolyn's hand wrapped around her blade's hilt, and without a word, she raised it, causing a chorus of warhorns to echo through the air.

The Blackshields responded, forming into a wedge formation, their shields locked in unity. Gwendolyn stood at the forefront, her sword pointed forward, glistening in the subdued light. The monstrous entities turned their attention to the approaching threat, incensed by the blaring warhorns. The air charged with tension as the creatures lunged forward, responding to the challenge.

Beside Gwendolyn stood Captain Elvira, her smile tinged with resignation. "This'll be a messy one, my lady," she remarked, readying her spear. Gwendolyn's emotionless gaze remained fixed ahead, her response a stark contrast to Elvira's wry comment. She did not answer, her focus solely on the task at hand. With a curt command, the procession advanced.

Thirty yards separated the two forces. Gwendolyn's voice cut through the tension, a directive carried on the wind. "Charge." With that word, the soldiers erupted into a battle cry that shattered the silence of dawn. Feet thundered against the earth as men and monsters hurtled towards each other.

A symphony of brutality erupted as metal clashed with flesh. Blackshields and Spearmen met the beasts head-on, their war cries mingling with the roars of their foes. Red and dark ichor spilled onto the earth, mingling with the stench of sweat and gore.

Gwendolyn moved with swift precision, her silver blade a blur as she danced through the chaos. Three monsters fell beneath her blade, life extinguished in an instant. The Blackshields formed an unbreakable wall, allowing the Spearmen to strike from behind their shielded ranks.

Amidst the melee, a beast's tremendous force sent a Blackshield flying through the air. Gwendolyn's reaction was swift and fluid, her body rolling beneath the airborne warrior. As the man sailed above her, she slid forward and thrust her blade into the creature's head, ending its life with clinical precision.

The ferocious clash continued for hours, an unrelenting storm of violence and valor. The monsters, sensing the tide turning, broke away and retreated into the hills, leaving their fallen brethren behind. Whimpers and yelps accompanied their retreat, a haunting chorus of defeat.

A triumphant cheer erupted from the survivors, victorious cries punctuating the grim aftermath. Gwendolyn's gaze swept over the field, her stoic demeanor unwavering. The injured soldiers were tended to, the living honoring their fallen comrades.

Beside a dying Blackshield, Gwendolyn knelt with a detachment that belied the gravity of the moment. Captain Elvira's observant eyes lingered on the scene, her voice a mixture of concern and curiosity. "He won't last long," she noted, her tone heavy with empathy.

Gwendolyn's response was succinct and cryptic, devoid of sentiment. "Blade or Beast." The injured Blackshield's voice, strained and pained, whispered his choice. "Blade." Gwendolyn's expression remained unchanged as she silently thanked him for his sacrifice.

With precision that mirrored her earlier battle prowess, Gwendolyn took the soldier's dagger and swiftly ended his suffering. Elvira's expletive-laden exclamation was met with a cold reply. "His torment ceased, it was kinder then to have left him."

As the sun climbed higher, Gwendolyn rose to her feet, her gaze fixed on the horizon. Elvira shook her head and swore under her breath. Orders were given, the dead were laid to rest, and the wounded attended to.

Gwendolyn stood alone, staring at the path the creatures had retreated along. With methodical precision, she cleaned her blood-stained sword, her focus unswerving. Bloodied arms, armor, and face seemed to hold no sway over her. Her voice was an emotionless murmur. "This isn't over until the realm is free of all beasts."