Gwendolyn

Name: Gwendolyn
Aliases: Cael can call her Gwen. You can't.
Age: 87
Gender: Female
Class: Dragonkin
Faction: Loosely aligned with the Magician's Guild.
Division: N/A




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Appearance: Gwendolyn is a tall woman, standing at approximately 6’. Her wings add a couple of extra inches, but as they usually aren’t visible, she can’t very well count them. The first thing that people tend to notice about her – before the enormous flower that’s coming out of her face, that is – is that she’s very, very white. Her skin is white, her hair is white, and she typically sticks to white clothing purely because that’s what she’s always done and she’d not terribly creative. When you can see her scales and the other more dragon-ish bits of her anatomy, they’re white as well. Her entire clan is quite well-known for their immaculate, clean coloring.

And then there’s the flower. It’s pink, as are her actual eyes, but in her humble opinion it’s anything but pretty. That might have more to do with what it represents. While that’s the most obvious sign of the infection, there are less obvious patches of pink, distressed skin around her thighs and one of her arms. Those areas are scaleless and are thus covered up with black armor.

She also wears a bow. Because she likes bows.

Personality:

Ill Girl: As much as Gwen tries to hide it, she’s very sick. She’ll often need to stop and rest in mid-mission and she’s constantly looking for ways to mask her symptoms. It’s tiring, annoying, and not at all how she wants to present herself to clients and allies. Unfortunately, it likely isn’t changing anytime soon.

Broken Ace: A long time ago she was the best of the best. While she’s for the most part content with her new lifestyle, she can’t pretend that it doesn’t seriously bother her that she will never again be the way that she was back when she was with her clan. Her cool, collected persona therefore masks a lot of self-loathing and general feelings of inadequacy. It’s awful knowing that, even if she is cured, she will always be…less.

Sugar and Ice Personality: Cael gets the sugar and the rest of the world gets the ice. Usually. She’s not mean, but she’s not friendly either. Most of the time she doesn’t see a point to formalities, and niceties, and coddling in general. It might have something to do with the fact that she’s a lot less willing to get close to people now given her condition. Deep, deep down she’s rather sweet.

The Drifter: Pretty much what she and Cael do. They do a lot of wandering around, taking things as they come. She’s a little bit more social than this trope typically is and that’s mostly to do with him. If she was still going about this alone she’d be bitter and miserable.

History: Once upon a time Gwendolyn was one of the most powerful Dragonkin on her side of the equator. A favorite of her wyvern, she served for many years as his protector and enforcer, having beaten out several others for the opportunity. And, given that she comes from a Welsh clan, that’s a pretty big deal – Wales has been wyvern central since forever. They’re the best of the best. For a good long time she stood proud over all of her accomplishments. Perfectly content to live out her entire life in their secluded mountain community, she spent her time training the lessers and assisting her wyvern, Faron, with his science projects.

He was big, and old, and often bored. When he was bored he attempted to follow in the footsteps of his idol, Niv, by outfitting his Dragonkin with all kinds of interesting augmentations. Some worked out better than others. Gwendolyn never volunteered for one herself, but many of her subordinates did. With each attempt, Faron got braver and braver. In retrospect it was only a matter of time before something went wrong.

In an attempt to tackle an extremely advanced augmentation, Faron accidentally created something more akin to a virus. In just days the recipient went from fit and formidable to fragile and sluggish. His scales melted away into areas of slimy black ooze. Flower-like growths began to spring up all over his body, slowly devouring him from the inside. In a final act of defiance he attempted to take revenge on Faron by passing the infection to others in the clan. Gwendolyn was tasked with killing him, not to mention any other infected parties, before any real damage could be done. And she did…at the cost of being infected herself.

She was, to put it simply, asked to leave.

To this day she swears that it was the most difficult thing that she’s ever done. Given the urgency of the situation it had to be a very quick goodbye, but it was respectable – like a funeral. She left with the intention of going off somewhere secluded and dying peacefully. Leaving Wales for someplace far away that she cared less about, Gwen spent something like three years waiting to die in an isolated little seaside cave. And she didn’t.

She did however lose just about everything that she’d ever worked for. The infection took her strength and her skill, leaving her a shadow of her former self. That just about drove her mad. Nothing is quite as awful as mediocrity, especially when you’ve already worked past it once. If anything it just made the idea of dying pitifully young that much easier to swallow.

But when even more time passed and she still wasn’t quite at death’s door, she changed tactics. It seemed that the infection only affected others of her kind, which was something that she discovered only after passing through a couple of smaller human towns and risking it. All’s well that ends well. In the light of that realization, her priorities changed. Perhaps if she had more time than she had initially expected and could travel without infecting entire villages, she could look into finding herself a doctor. If she could be healed, then she could return to the life that she wanted. Maybe.

Sometimes during her travels she would attempt to remind herself that she was still somewhat useful by taking little tasks from the people she passed. Occasionally it was payment for whatever healer she was attempting to see, but more often than not it was simply to give herself something worthwhile to do. Kill a monster, or a bandit, or a local villain – easy things that made people happy and made her feel important.

Caelestis was the last in a long series of disappointments. Like the others that she’d been to, he could not cure her. He was easy on the eyes, though, and she was lonely. What started as another attempt at a cure resulted in a friendship, and then something beyond that. They’ve been traveling together ever since that first meeting, searching around for something that might end Gwen’s infection and save her life. So far they’ve only succeeded in finding a few interesting (and expensive) trinkets that they’ve sold to the Magician’s Guild, their best customer.

She’s not certain how much time she has left, but she’s beginning to enjoy the journey regardless.



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Weaknesses:

• Seeing or being in the close proximity holy symbols or places will repel and paralyze them.
  
• Cannot put scales over her infected eye or arm. But her real weak area is her right thigh. There are no scales over her femoral artery.
• Isn't great underground or in closed spaces. She thrives in the air and thus needs the sky above her.
• Literally dying of a parasitic flower illness.

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