Brithwyr

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

Gwyn Therwyn

---

What a bloody idiot. Sure, Gwyn, stare at the corpses and never mind the fact that you've got a job to do. You're a bloody soldier, aren't you? Can't be breaking down at the sight of a little blood. Oh, the Imps would have a field day with him. Blanching at a little blood, a sweet young lad like him? They could worm their way into your head, they could. He heard all sorts about them. Apparently if they captured an enemy soldier, they would pop out his eyes and blend it into a cream. Gwyn had never tried eyes cream, but he couldn't imagine it would taste very pleasant, and he certainly wasn't volunteering any ingredients.

In a strange way, it was comforting to think about the Imps like that. Not as people, but as monsters, every bit as demonic as the name implied. It made the field of gore he saw that littlest bit easier to stomach. It wasn't the act of savage human beings, but evil, otherworldy beasts. Monsters. A human would never be capable of that.

It also made it a little bit easier to come to terms with the fact he was going to kill one by the end of the day. With any luck, it would be from a safe range, with some nice, controlled detonations, crushing Fritz under a ton of rubble and mud, never to see the light of day again. Yes. He'd quite like that. No need to watch the light leaves his eyes, or blast away his childhood memories of eating schnitzel, or watch him pitifully mewl his last, crying out for a mother who wouldn't come or a lover he'd never see again. Just plant the bomb, press the button and boom.

Those two soldiers were getting all cosy, weren't they? He couldn't judge. You set a bunch of teenagers raging on hormones in mixed divisions into a life or death situation, you're gonna hear the phrase "you don't want to die a virgin, do you?" being bandied about a lot. There was bound to be someone willing to bite the bullet and start a battlefield romance. He just prayed to whatever god would listen that they would last.

He was getting far too pessimistic. He hadn't even seen combat yet and he was already reminiscing like an old veteran. But still... if Command could make such a fatal error with the cavalry, how did he know they weren't doing the same thing here? Who knew what kind of traps and ambushes were laid out in the tunnels? He knew he shouldn't think like this. He couldn't keep looking over his shoulder, waiting for an artillery shell or a frustrated Imp with a rifle and some daddy issues to work out. Jittering at every noise wasn't the cool-as-ice authority figure he was ostensibly trained to be. But he wasn't on the training ground any more. These weren't little wooden figures on a table, and this wasn't a friendly game of football. This was war. Everything had to go perfect, or it would be him joining the putrid slurry that so haunted his vision. He wouldn't forgive himself if one of his friends got killed trying to protect him.

Gwyn sighed and fell in close behind Michael and Lucia. He only caught the tail end of their conversation, but from what he heard, it sounded like they were just as frightened as he was. That... was a relief. At least he wasn't the only one. At least he wasn't letting them down.

Civilization III: A New World

Tuatha de Dannan

---

Pink Cross in the centre

---

Race

Race: Elven
Breed: Barrow Elves - Barrow Elves are short, fey creatures who live underground and in deep forests. Their cities are buried deep underground, marked by some subtle marking on the surface such as a hut or a cairn that a passerby would typically ignore. They are a morbid and dour lot, and are especially skilled with death rituals.

Government

Capital: Noamh Aindréas
Ruler: Brehin Ior and Brehin Gwyn
Type of Government: Dual Monarchy - Elves born in the Spring and Summer fall into Court of the Sun. Elves born in the Autumn or Winter fall into the Court of the Moon.
Religion: Ancient history holds that the Goddess Dana bestowed The Book upon the elves a long, long time ago. The Book contains a list of rituals and rules that bind the Barrow Elves. Breaking these rules means certain death. One such rule is that Barrow Elves may not tell lies, nor may they break oaths, earning them the nickname The Fair Folk.

History:

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

Gwyn Therwyn

---

It's a funny thing, seeing a body. It doesn't matter what you do to prepare for it. You can spend all day reading books about it. You can tell yourself that its not any worse than looking at someone who was sleeping. But until you see them first hand, until you smell the stench of cordite and blood in the and see the bullet wounds, you will never, ever be prepared for it.

Gwyn certainly wasn't. Bodies and bits of bodies lay strewn around carelessly. There were clots of blood and spent cartridges and bits of green metallic-looking slime floating among the pools of viscera, as though the battlefield was a perverse art project of an uncaring God. He found it more merciful to look at those left unrecognisable from the assault - though it was hard to reconcile that the pinkish-red heaps of mulch were once loving spouses, parents and siblings, it was far, far harder to stare at the mangled mass of limbs that twitched spasmodically. Gwyn could only hope that was caused by a stray bullet in the nervous system and wasn't the desperate attempts of someone too far gone to drag themselves to safety. Blackened hands reached for him, eyeless heads stared at him, gashed stomachs disgorged their contents at him.

This was not war. This was murder.

Hollow, in the back of his mind, he could hear Michael calling for the sappers, but his legs would not move to obey. His eyes were fixated on one corpse in particular. Even i their bullet-riddled state, he could see their face, twisted in a cry of fear and pain. They couldn't have been any older than he was. What, he wondered, were their last thoughts? Did they think about the people back home? The boy or girl they had left, promising to return to at the end of the war? Did they think of survival, of desperately pushing their innards back into place and telling themselves that reassuring lie that they were going to make it? Or perhaps they didn't have time to think of anything at all. Perhaps - hopefully - the bullets killed them before they could realise what was happening.

Michael's voice rang out again. This time, he was able to drag himself over to where the soldier stood and let out a half-choked "Sir?"

@Conscripts

By the authority of the King and Parliament (A Fantasy/Semi - Historical NRP - Based on the East India Company)

I noticed you mentioned Dark elves as well, so is this historical or fantasy?

Rome, the Republic

Sounds good. Colour me intrigued

By the authority of the King and Parliament (A Fantasy/Semi - Historical NRP - Based on the East India Company)

So is this a nation roleplay, or will we only be playing one character?

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

Gwyn Therwyn

---

Gwyn was going to have to swallow his nervousness, because Thomas was a goddamn magnet for conversation. First Michael, then Diana, then Isaac, all coming over to have a chat and a smile. Shame he didn't bring some bickies. He took a little step back, and introduced himself to the newcomers.

"Name's Gwyn. You need a mine or a wall of sandbags set up, just give me a shout, yeah?"

He accompanied this with a little salute and a big smile. He wanted to make as many friends as possible before he went out into the front. These people had survived the front. The push! They had stared down death and survived! Surely they'd be willing to share some advice with a relative greenhorn like himself?

Gwyn was no stranger to a bit of combat training. He aced the practical exams. But he wasn't a blithering idiot. The field wasn't like the training field, as his father had been eager to remind him every waking hour of the day. You made a mistake in training, you got punished. You made a mistake in a combat scenario, you or someone important to you would die. Gwyn didn't know what it was like to die, but he couldn't imagine it was a very pleasant feeling, so if it was all the same to you, he'd rather stay alive, thank you very much.

“Oi, Gwyn!”

Now that was a voice he recognised anywhere. Last he saw him, he'd been put in the doghouse for insubordination. Honestly, he was surprised he was able to get the the train stop without being in chains - or shot.

"LUKE! Where have you been, ye bastard, ye!" Gwyn cheered heartily. "I thought you would have been scrubbed out by now, boyo!"

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

Gwyn Therwyn

---

Amongst the Oceanics, Gwyn stuck out like a sore thumb. Even if his rosy cheeks and wheat-coloured hair didn't make him look more like a little boy playing at soldiers than an actual member of the Army, the ramrod in his spine surely marked him as a military brat. While everyone else was joking around, checking their weapons and talking about the folks back home, Gwyn stood stock still, his eyes firmly on the tracks as he waited for the train to arrive.

Despite Thomas' best efforts to loosen him up, Gwyn could feel his heart race. So many smiling faces around him. How many of them would still be here after the first battle? They were the reserves. Reinforcements. And yet, after the deadly push for Hill 58, they were already being drawn into the front. After the next push, who would be the ones being replaced?

He wasn't scared for himself. But he was a sapper. It was his job to make sure the bad guys didn't cross No Man's Land. He was to build the trenches, lay the mines, dig the foxholes and set the sandbags. Anyone who died in the trenches was his fault. Anyone who died in a foxhole, his fault. If any of these men and women died anywhere except standing around in the middle of no man's land with a thumb up their arse, that was on him and him alone. The pressure weighed on him like stones in his pack.

To make matters worse, he felt almost obligated to take some kind of position of control. Out of all the people here, how many of them had been raised from birth to lead men into battle? Very few, he should wonder. And yet, he had to hold himself back. His was a unique position, simultaneously having the name of his dynasty to uphold and yet determined not to let anyone find out who he was for fear of recognition. He doubted that the rank-and-file took well to the children of officers, even if they were officers of a previous war.

At least, officers he hoped were in a previous war.

No. He couldn't let himself get distracted with thoughts of his dad. Focus instead on this Captain Middleton; his exploits had gave him something of a reputation. He was celebrated at home as a man who could get results. He even heard some of the newer troops call him a hero. And yet, what Gwyn had heard only reminded him of his own father: A single minded man, a man who saw the men under him as nothing more than expendable cogs in a hungry war machine, a man who would stop at nothing to end the war in victory and damned be all under him. Gwyn did not understand. Perhaps "heroes" do not need to question their actions.

But he couldn't let his nerves infect everyone around him. Nothing crushed an army worse than lack of morale. So he managed a sickly smile, and tried to ignore the twitch in his leg.
"You best be worried about your own arse, boyo, or some jabbering Imp is gonna ram his bayonet up it." he shot back to the Oceanic. Did that come off as too aggressive? Oh, God, he couldn't go around making enemies in his own rank! Almost immediately, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and he turned away fearfully.

@LetMeDoStuff

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

Character Sheet

---

Name
Gwyn Therwyn

Gender
Male

Age
16 - born March 13th, 1898

Sexuality
Tsk...

Race
Llanfair­pwllgwyngyll­gogery­chwyrn­drobwll­llan­tysilio­gogo­goch, Edinburgh

---

Appearance
Gwyn stands at 4'10" tall, and weighs 80lbs exactly. He has short, messy blonde hair and big, eager golden eyes that gleam with anticipation. Physically, he is lissom and trim and has skin as white as snow. His face is feminine and youthful in appearance, with full, puckered lips, pinchable cheeks and long, luscious eyelashes that he can bat completely by accident.

He wears the dress uniform, even in combat situations, with black bracers over the forearms. He dons a dull blue wool coat in cold weather.

Height
4'10"

Personality
Gwyn can best be described as a kind-hearted but quick-tempered boy. He has an easy smile and is always willing to crack a joke, even in the worst of situations. He's not the best spoken, and often sounds too casual for the situation, but he doesn't mean it. He has a strong sense of duty, forms friendships easily and is determined to finish any job he starts to the end.

Having said that, he's also very quick tempered. He doesn't suffer insults to him, his family or his men, and his tendency to put his foot in his mouth often draws him into conflict with his superiors. He's willing to risk his own life for his duty, but not the lives of his followers - this unwillingness to make a sacrifice in the name of a greater goal is most likely why, despite his pedigree, he wasn't given an officer's position.

---

Rank
Private

Role
Sapper

Equipment
SM-Longfield rifle and other standard sapper gear

Potentials
Gwyn comes from a long line of military men, mostly officers, who have served both locally in in foreign wars as expeditionary forces. This history weighs heavily on him, forcing him to do well to uphold the Therwyn name

Gwyn is willing to do anything for his country, including lay down his life. But in no circumstances will he allow men serving with or under him to give their lives in place of his. He would view anyone in his platoon who died as a personal failure.

Gwyn is an irreverent figure who cares little for pomp and ceremony, but nothing gets under his skin quite like an officer who sees his men as naught but expendable cogs in a machine.

---

Biography
Gwyn was born to Captain Therwyn and his wife on the 1898. From a young age, Gwyn was groomed to be a military child, being put through rigorous training by his father since he could walk. Even at this young age, Gwyn showed real proficiency with the engineering aspect of service, constantly taking things apart and putting them back together.

The family was not a rich one, nor was it particularly caring. His mother often complained that Captain Therwyn would treat his son more like a recruit than a child, and would impose unnecessarily harsh restrictions on what the boy could and couldn't do. Any transgression was met with severe punishment, from beatings to starvation. This latter punishment lead to Gwyn being the scrawny little thing he is today.

His mother, however, was a sweet little woman and couldn't stand to see her son treated so brutally. Whilst she couldn't do anything about how harsh her husband was on their only son, she showed the boy nothing but kindness, and would tell him stories of great heroes and mighty battles to foster his imagination. She was delighted at his interest in engineering, and bragged about how her boy would grow up to be a great architect to her friends. But things changed when the mother fell pregnant with Gwyn's little sister.

The difference was immediate. The sister was never put through the ringer the same way he was. Captain Therwyn was to his daughter everything he failed to be to his son - a loving father, an understanding tutor and a good man. Gwyn couldn't understand why he was singled out for his father's cruelty. Had he done something wrong? Questioning his dad was unthinkable - he would almost certainly get battered for even daring. It got even worse when his second sister was born and Captain Therwyn again treated her with a kindness utterly absent froom his interactions with Gwyn. It couldn't be because they were girls - Gwyn had seen many women at military marches, and heard of great female heroes from his mother. Was it because he was the eldest? He saw no reason why that would change anything. A soldier was a soldier at any age, as his father often reminded him.

From what Gwyn could gleam, the decision to treat him with naked hostility and his sisters with kindness was entirely arbitrary. His father had taken one look at him and decided he was a soldier - he hadn't done the same for the girls. This sat at the back of his mind throughout his childhood, and soon confusion turned to anger. How dare he decide so early what direction Gwyn would take with his life?

Things took an interesting turn when Gwyn went to school. He found that the regimental lifestyle would earn him few friends with normal children; but on the sports field he quickly became a legend. He could outpace, outlast and outwrestle most of his peers, and his tactical studies meant he always knew exactly where to be and what to do on the football field. This was the crowd he fell in with, and was where he felt most at ease. When he was with them, he could be at ease. He was pushed to join the school football team, and when he did, he quickly assumed the role of captain. Suddenly, Gwyn had a new perspective. Just because he had to be regimented and drilled and dieted didn't mean he needed to be yelled at and berated. Not every failure was evident of a personal fault. He could make mistakes, if it meant he would learn from them.

With the parallels and differences between his fledgling football hobby and his military home life become clearer with each passing day, Gwyn came to resent his father's authority over him. He hated his arbitrary decisions. He hated his unnecessary punishments. And ultimately, he hated his father.

Things took a nasty turn on his 16th birthday. After school, his football mates took him out for a birthday treat with cake and ice-cream at the end. This meant he was late home.

His father didn't take this well at all.

Gwyn took the next few days off school for the bruises to fade. But this didn't make things any easier at home. When his father got home, he was put back out on the training course, and would be out there until the sun went down, until his muscles screamed for rest and his very bones ached with a dull throb. When they could, his mother and sisters would bring him food and water, and would let him rest if his father was out for whatever reason. Gwyn knew his enemies. Despite his envy of the girls, it wasn't their fault that he was mistreated, and he knew that. It was the officer, the father, who was doing wrong. And it was the officer who would suffer.

The captain was very proud of his uniform. He kept it in pristine condition, standing proud on a rack in the living room for all his guests to marvel over. Of course, the living room is a dangerous place to keep such a prize. Someone could spill tea on it, or it could get knocked over. And maybe, just maybe, a vengeful 16 year old could sneak into the living room one night and tear it to shreds with a knife...

Gwyn never got to see his father's reaction to such a thing, for he ran away from the home the very same night. He stayed at a friends house for a while, but at the outbreak of the war, he enlisted shortly after and went to do the thing he'd been raised from birth to do - fight and die for his country.

Affiliations
The Therwyn family has been a long line of soldiers and officers for at least the past five hundred years - Gwyn is only the latest.

Relationships
Currently knows none of the active characters

Character Theme

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

Character Sheet

---

Name
Gwyn Therwyn

Gender
Male

Age
16 - born March 13th, 1898

Sexuality
Tsk...

Race
Llanfair­pwllgwyngyll­gogery­chwyrn­drobwll­llan­tysilio­gogo­goch, Edinburgh

---

Appearance
Gwyn stands at 4'10" tall, and weighs 80lbs exactly. He has short, messy blonde hair and big, eager golden eyes that gleam with anticipation. Physically, he is lissom and trim and has skin as white as snow. His face is feminine and youthful in appearance, with full, puckered lips, pinchable cheeks and long, luscious eyelashes that he can bat completely by accident.

He wears the dress uniform, even in combat situations, with black bracers over the forearms. He dons a dull blue wool coat in cold weather.

Height
4'10"

Personality
Gwyn can best be described as a kind-hearted but quick-tempered boy. He has an easy smile and is always willing to crack a joke, even in the worst of situations. He's not the best spoken, and often sounds too casual for the situation, but he doesn't mean it. He has a strong sense of duty, forms friendships easily and is determined to finish any job he starts to the end.

Having said that, he's also very quick tempered. He doesn't suffer insults to him, his family or his men, and his tendency to put his foot in his mouth often draws him into conflict with his superiors. He's willing to risk his own life for his duty, but not the lives of his followers - this unwillingness to make a sacrifice in the name of a greater goal is most likely why, despite his pedigree, he wasn't given an officer's position.

---

Rank
Private

Role
Sapper

Equipment
SM-Longfield rifle and other standard sapper gear

Potentials
Gwyn comes from a long line of military men, mostly officers, who have served both locally in in foreign wars as expeditionary forces. This history weighs heavily on him, forcing him to do well to uphold the Therwyn name

Gwyn is willing to do anything for his country, including lay down his life. But in no circumstances will he allow men serving with or under him to give their lives in place of his. He would view anyone in his platoon who died as a personal failure.

Gwyn is an irreverent figure who cares little for pomp and ceremony, but nothing gets under his skin quite like an officer who sees his men as naught but expendable cogs in a machine.

---

Biography
Gwyn was born to Captain Therwyn and his wife on the 1898. From a young age, Gwyn was groomed to be a military child, being put through rigorous training by his father since he could walk. Even at this young age, Gwyn showed real proficiency with the engineering aspect of service, constantly taking things apart and putting them back together.

The family was not a rich one, nor was it particularly caring. His mother often complained that Captain Therwyn would treat his son more like a recruit than a child, and would impose unnecessarily harsh restrictions on what the boy could and couldn't do. Any transgression was met with severe punishment, from beatings to starvation. This latter punishment lead to Gwyn being the scrawny little thing he is today.

His mother, however, was a sweet little woman and couldn't stand to see her son treated so brutally. Whilst she couldn't do anything about how harsh her husband was on their only son, she showed the boy nothing but kindness, and would tell him stories of great heroes and mighty battles to foster his imagination. She was delighted at his interest in engineering, and bragged about how her boy would grow up to be a great architect to her friends. But things changed when the mother fell pregnant with Gwyn's little sister.

The difference was immediate. The sister was never put through the ringer the same way he was. Captain Therwyn was to his daughter everything he failed to be to his son - a loving father, an understanding tutor and a good man. Gwyn couldn't understand why he was singled out for his father's cruelty. Had he done something wrong? Questioning his dad was unthinkable - he would almost certainly get battered for even daring. It got even worse when his second sister was born and Captain Therwyn again treated her with a kindness utterly absent froom his interactions with Gwyn. It couldn't be because they were girls - Gwyn had seen many women at military marches, and heard of great female heroes from his mother. Was it because he was the eldest? He saw no reason why that would change anything. A soldier was a soldier at any age, as his father often reminded him.

From what Gwyn could gleam, the decision to treat him with naked hostility and his sisters with kindness was entirely arbitrary. His father had taken one look at him and decided he was a soldier - he hadn't done the same for the girls. This sat at the back of his mind throughout his childhood, and soon confusion turned to anger. How dare he decide so early what direction Gwyn would take with his life?

Things took an interesting turn when Gwyn went to school. He found that the regimental lifestyle would earn him few friends with normal children; but on the sports field he quickly became a legend. He could outpace, outlast and outwrestle most of his peers, and his tactical studies meant he always knew exactly where to be and what to do on the football field. This was the crowd he fell in with, and was where he felt most at ease. When he was with them, he could be at ease. He was pushed to join the school football team, and when he did, he quickly assumed the role of captain. Suddenly, Gwyn had a new perspective. Just because he had to be regimented and drilled and dieted didn't mean he needed to be yelled at and berated. Not every failure was evident of a personal fault. He could make mistakes, if it meant he would learn from them.

With the parallels and differences between his fledgling football hobby and his military home life become clearer with each passing day, Gwyn came to resent his father's authority over him. He hated his arbitrary decisions. He hated his unnecessary punishments. And ultimately, he hated his father.

Things took a nasty turn on his 16th birthday. After school, his football mates took him out for a birthday treat with cake and ice-cream at the end. This meant he was late home.

His father didn't take this well at all.

Gwyn took the next few days off school for the bruises to fade. But this didn't make things any easier at home. When his father got home, he was put back out on the training course, and would be out there until the sun went down, until his muscles screamed for rest and his very bones ached with a dull throb. When they could, his mother and sisters would bring him food and water, and would let him rest if his father was out for whatever reason. Gwyn knew his enemies. Despite his envy of the girls, it wasn't their fault that he was mistreated, and he knew that. It was the officer, the father, who was doing wrong. And it was the officer who would suffer.

The captain was very proud of his uniform. He kept it in pristine condition, standing proud on a rack in the living room for all his guests to marvel over. Of course, the living room is a dangerous place to keep such a prize. Someone could spill tea on it, or it could get knocked over. And maybe, just maybe, a vengeful 16 year old could sneak into the living room one night and tear it to shreds with a knife...

Gwyn never got to see his father's reaction to such a thing, for he ran away from the home the very same night. He stayed at a friends house for a while, but at the outbreak of the war, he enlisted shortly after and went to do the thing he'd been raised from birth to do - fight and die for his country.

Affiliations
The Therwyn family has been a long line of soldiers and officers for at least the past five hundred years - Gwyn is only the latest.

Relationships
Currently knows none of the active characters

Character Theme