Gwenllian the Fell-Handed¶
Domains: Protection, War
"Work your ritual, loremaster. And I will make your life worthy of a god's memory."
The Red Sun hobgoblins seemed unstoppable. The baron began to think he might need to evacuate the entire barony, else allow his people to be slaughtered. His greatest knights perished against the Red Sun, who wielded some magic that granted them invulnerability.
Then the loremaster came. Zür the wizard, dwarf and master of the Tower of Enchantment arrived. Seeing the need, he opened his tomes and researched what might the hobgoblins might wield. He presented himself to the baron's court with a solution. The Red Sun had found an ancient spring dedicated to a Gol demon-god. The Red Sun hobgoblins had bathed in the spring and awoken the blessing of the demon within and, having bathed in the river, they were now invulnerable.
Zür believed he could remove the enchantment and rob the Red Sun of their power. But the way to the spring was dangerous and he had no guard. The baron was at a loss, his greatest knights were almost all dead, thanks to the Red Sun.
"I will attend," Lady Gwenllian volunteered. The baron objected. Lady Gwenllian was his personal knight and bodyguard, just as her mother had been to his father. "If we succeed," Gwenllian said, "you will have no need of bodyguards. If we fail, it will be the same."
The baron could not say no to his closest and most loyal knight, and so Lady Gwenllian, daughter of Morwetha, rode out with Zür the Enchanter. "It will take time to perform the ritual," Zür said. "Once I start, the demon will send creatures to stop me. They will be terrible."
Gwenllian swore to defend the dwarf against all who might come for as long as it might take. In later years, Zür professed he felt the weight of her vow and knew the gods were watching. "How long to work your ritual?" she asked, and she could tell the answer would be dire.
"Ten days," Zür said. "Ten days must I work this weaving without pause or rest or food or water." Dour Gwenllian merely nodded. "So be it."
Arriving at the spring which ran red, Zür prepared his weaving. "You understand," he said coating his hands in a rare powder, "that once we begin, we cannot stop, no matter how horrible the fiends the demon sends at us."
Well-versed in the faith of Ord and the dwarves, Gwenllian responded. "Work your ritual, loremaster. And I will make your life worthy of a god's memory."
For ten days and nine nights, Zür spoke his weaving and lighting sprang from his fingertips as he grappled with the demon of the spring. And horrors came as he did so.
Creatures unseen in Orden, assemblages of organs, teeth, and claws. Animals with too many legs or too few heads. The dead came, trees that walked whose branches dripped blood came. The tale of all
detailed in the Lay of Lady Gwenllian. And while the endurance of the dwarves is well documented, Lady Gwenllian did not falter, did not rest.
On the seventh day did a group from the Barony come to tell the dwarf the Red Sun had been defeated. Zür hesitated, but Lady Gwenllian did not. Exhausted, spent, she could not be fooled. She saw through the demon's guise and the men who were not men erupted in tentacles and spines.
Lady Gwenllian dispatched them all.
Twelve days after they rode out, Zür returned with Lady Gwenllian's body on her horse. The spring had been consecrated by the green. The Red Sun had lost their invulnerable skin and were beaten. Lady Gwenllian protected Zür as she swore, but she died upon dispatching the last demon spawn.
"I bring you her body," Zür said to the baron. "And one thing more will I do for you. I shall build you a church here. A cathedral worthy of the life of Saint Gwenllian."
Gwenllian is the saint of those who stand watch, of all those who must carry a burden ceaselessly. Gwenllian teaches that vigilance is its own reward.