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The History of Gwenivere
 
Long ago, in a faraway land known as Camelot, there lived a gracious, beautiful woman known simply as the Queen.
The title belied her existence however, for she lived in great sadness and total isolation, with no one to attend even her simplest needs; a Queen with no subjects to rule, and all semblance of rank and royalty stripped away.
 
The cause of these stark circumstances was indiscretion upon her part, and her betrayal of her husband, Arthur, King of Camelot, with a Knight, Sir Lancelot.
 
Eventually, there came a troupe of Gypsies to the castle, performing and entertaining for monies they could earn or beg or steal. In a rare moment of pity, Arthur permitted the Queen to be escorted to attend a private performance of their brand of amusement. Starved for human companionship, the Queen was taken by the beauty and skills and the kindness exhibited by one special woman, young and dark and vivacious, by name of De'Reaha. Head of the tribe, this young sorceress used her powers to skillfully weave an enchantment over Arthur, who permitted her access to the Queen, whose exile had only begun at that point, and seeing an opportunity to gain the friendship and dependence of this lady in distress, seemed advantageous to the Gypsy.
 
So began a strange friendship between the Queen and the Gypsy woman. Some months later, De'Reaha appeared from the Castle carrying with her a beautiful blonde haired, deep blue eyed squirming newborn girl, declaring it as her child, and hastily departed the province of Camelot, vowing never to set foot there again. Well funded now, by order of Arthur, still under her spell, the entire troupe moved to a nearby area, purchased lands and gave up their roving ways, settling into the complacent lives of small landowners, farmers, and tradesmen. The child grew, was happy and flourished, learning the skills taught by her Mother. The simple fact she was always referred to as "The pale one", "the child", or simply "Girl" never bothered the girl, as she had never known any other title.
 
Many years passed, when a courier found the sorceress, bearing tidings of bad news: the Queen had fallen ill, and bade De'Reaha return with the child to Camelot immediately. Upon hearing this news, the two departed their home within the hour, and arrived in Camelot in the midst of the night, where they were ushered straight to the Queen's chambers, where she lay upon her death bed, fighting for every breath, clinging to life for the last chance to see once again her only friend and the child.
 
Reaching out a thin, trembling hand to the now teen aged girl, the Queen looked into the deep blue eyes that only could belong to one other, aside from the child...the eyes of Sir Lancelot. Shocked at the appearance of the Queen, the girl could only stare for a moment. It was almost as though she was looking at an older version of her own reflection in the watering troughs at home to gaze upon the face of the Queen.
Taking the hand, the girl knelt at the side of the dying Queen, comforting her as best she could a stranger she knew not. The words the Queen then uttered altered the course of the youngster's life forever. "I gave you life through love, my child. I gave you up to save you, to my only friend here, De'Reaha, who swore to keep my secret safe, to her grave, which I see she has done. Only my weakness and my love for you force me to speak now to you once before I depart this accursed place of torment. To see you makes it all worthwhile, however. I claim the right of a Mother way late, but a right nevertheless, to name you. Henceforth you will be called after me...Gwenivere. I love you my daughter. Take this token with you of my love for you, and forever wear it." Those were her final words.
 
Slipping off a ring with the royal crest upon it's black stone, the dying Queen pressed it into the hands of the girl, her last breath escaping her smiling lips with a soft sigh.
 
Stunned beyond comprehension, the girl turned to the gypsy, who silently observed the happenings. Locking her dark brown eyes with the bewildered blue eyes of Gwenivere, she nodded admission. "Tis true, all of it. It was a plan contrived by the Queen and myself to save your life, for Arthur would surely have condemned you to death upon learning of your very existence, little one. Know you are doubly blessed however. You have royal blood in your veins, and the love of all whose lives you touch, because of your ordinary upbringing. Even more so, you learned skills as a sorceress combined with your extraordinary abilities to perceive everything within your grasp and sight, will serve you well in the life ahead of you."
Fighting back tears of rage, pain and struggling to accept this role thrust upon her, Gwenivere closed her Mother's eyes, placed her own scarf in her Mother's now limp hand, turned and walked out of the chambers without so much as a backward glance.
 
On the surface, nothing changed in her life for two years. Then, suddenly, De'Reaha was struck down by a fever that consumed her rapidly. Gwenivere sat bathing her face around the clock, working feverishly to give her only known Mother some respite from the fever, evoking every spell she knew, to aid the dying woman, to no avail. She lost her battle as the Sun rose over the horizon. De'Reaha bade her remove the amulet she wore always about her neck...a strange red stone crafted with a Moon chiseled out of it, which glowed with the very fires of Life in it's depths, and instructed Gwenivere to place it about her own neck, which he did to please the rapidly fading woman. "I pass this plane now, my Gwenivere, and I pass to you my powers, and my position as head sorceress of our tribes. Use them for good always, as you have been taught. My love remains with you in this sto....." and her words were stilled forever.
 
The loss was far greater to Gwenivere than even losing her birth Mother, whom she really knew not. After assuring all the arrangements necessary to transport her Mother's spirit to Valhalla, and upon seeing the funeral pyre lit, and a barge bearing her body set adrift, Gwenivere departed her only home.
 
She wandered for almost a year, when she found a common laborer whom she felt a kindred spirit with, and settled into a life style there, working alongside the simple, good people who had befriended her.
 
A year passed, and the blossoming girl was now a full fledged woman, ready to venture into things only visited in her dreaming times. She fell in love, and seemed content, but as suddenly as she had found the love of her life, he vanished without a trace, without a word. Bitter at the blows dealt her once again by life, she departed this land to search for her love.
 
After long journeys, and many adventures, she arrived at the city of [[Underlight]], and quickly learned the skills needed to awaken to the Dream state....where she can be found today.
 
Here is Gwenivere....a simple woman wearing a ring of royal bearing, and an unusual amulet about her neck.... she is a [[Dreamseer]].
 
 


[[Category:Dreamer Biographies]]
[[Category:Dreamer Biographies]]

Latest revision as of 20:11, 1 May 2021

Ench.jpg

Gwen1.jpg

Gwen2.jpg


The History of Gwenivere

Long ago, in a faraway land known as Camelot, there lived a gracious, beautiful woman known simply as the Queen. The title belied her existence however, for she lived in great sadness and total isolation, with no one to attend even her simplest needs; a Queen with no subjects to rule, and all semblance of rank and royalty stripped away.

The cause of these stark circumstances was indiscretion upon her part, and her betrayal of her husband, Arthur, King of Camelot, with a Knight, Sir Lancelot.

Eventually, there came a troupe of Gypsies to the castle, performing and entertaining for monies they could earn or beg or steal. In a rare moment of pity, Arthur permitted the Queen to be escorted to attend a private performance of their brand of amusement. Starved for human companionship, the Queen was taken by the beauty and skills and the kindness exhibited by one special woman, young and dark and vivacious, by name of De'Reaha. Head of the tribe, this young sorceress used her powers to skillfully weave an enchantment over Arthur, who permitted her access to the Queen, whose exile had only begun at that point, and seeing an opportunity to gain the friendship and dependence of this lady in distress, seemed advantageous to the Gypsy.

So began a strange friendship between the Queen and the Gypsy woman. Some months later, De'Reaha appeared from the Castle carrying with her a beautiful blonde haired, deep blue eyed squirming newborn girl, declaring it as her child, and hastily departed the province of Camelot, vowing never to set foot there again. Well funded now, by order of Arthur, still under her spell, the entire troupe moved to a nearby area, purchased lands and gave up their roving ways, settling into the complacent lives of small landowners, farmers, and tradesmen. The child grew, was happy and flourished, learning the skills taught by her Mother. The simple fact she was always referred to as "The pale one", "the child", or simply "Girl" never bothered the girl, as she had never known any other title.

Many years passed, when a courier found the sorceress, bearing tidings of bad news: the Queen had fallen ill, and bade De'Reaha return with the child to Camelot immediately. Upon hearing this news, the two departed their home within the hour, and arrived in Camelot in the midst of the night, where they were ushered straight to the Queen's chambers, where she lay upon her death bed, fighting for every breath, clinging to life for the last chance to see once again her only friend and the child.

Reaching out a thin, trembling hand to the now teen aged girl, the Queen looked into the deep blue eyes that only could belong to one other, aside from the child...the eyes of Sir Lancelot. Shocked at the appearance of the Queen, the girl could only stare for a moment. It was almost as though she was looking at an older version of her own reflection in the watering troughs at home to gaze upon the face of the Queen. Taking the hand, the girl knelt at the side of the dying Queen, comforting her as best she could a stranger she knew not. The words the Queen then uttered altered the course of the youngster's life forever. "I gave you life through love, my child. I gave you up to save you, to my only friend here, De'Reaha, who swore to keep my secret safe, to her grave, which I see she has done. Only my weakness and my love for you force me to speak now to you once before I depart this accursed place of torment. To see you makes it all worthwhile, however. I claim the right of a Mother way late, but a right nevertheless, to name you. Henceforth you will be called after me...Gwenivere. I love you my daughter. Take this token with you of my love for you, and forever wear it." Those were her final words.

Slipping off a ring with the royal crest upon it's black stone, the dying Queen pressed it into the hands of the girl, her last breath escaping her smiling lips with a soft sigh.

Stunned beyond comprehension, the girl turned to the gypsy, who silently observed the happenings. Locking her dark brown eyes with the bewildered blue eyes of Gwenivere, she nodded admission. "Tis true, all of it. It was a plan contrived by the Queen and myself to save your life, for Arthur would surely have condemned you to death upon learning of your very existence, little one. Know you are doubly blessed however. You have royal blood in your veins, and the love of all whose lives you touch, because of your ordinary upbringing. Even more so, you learned skills as a sorceress combined with your extraordinary abilities to perceive everything within your grasp and sight, will serve you well in the life ahead of you." Fighting back tears of rage, pain and struggling to accept this role thrust upon her, Gwenivere closed her Mother's eyes, placed her own scarf in her Mother's now limp hand, turned and walked out of the chambers without so much as a backward glance.

On the surface, nothing changed in her life for two years. Then, suddenly, De'Reaha was struck down by a fever that consumed her rapidly. Gwenivere sat bathing her face around the clock, working feverishly to give her only known Mother some respite from the fever, evoking every spell she knew, to aid the dying woman, to no avail. She lost her battle as the Sun rose over the horizon. De'Reaha bade her remove the amulet she wore always about her neck...a strange red stone crafted with a Moon chiseled out of it, which glowed with the very fires of Life in it's depths, and instructed Gwenivere to place it about her own neck, which he did to please the rapidly fading woman. "I pass this plane now, my Gwenivere, and I pass to you my powers, and my position as head sorceress of our tribes. Use them for good always, as you have been taught. My love remains with you in this sto....." and her words were stilled forever.

The loss was far greater to Gwenivere than even losing her birth Mother, whom she really knew not. After assuring all the arrangements necessary to transport her Mother's spirit to Valhalla, and upon seeing the funeral pyre lit, and a barge bearing her body set adrift, Gwenivere departed her only home.

She wandered for almost a year, when she found a common laborer whom she felt a kindred spirit with, and settled into a life style there, working alongside the simple, good people who had befriended her.

A year passed, and the blossoming girl was now a full fledged woman, ready to venture into things only visited in her dreaming times. She fell in love, and seemed content, but as suddenly as she had found the love of her life, he vanished without a trace, without a word. Bitter at the blows dealt her once again by life, she departed this land to search for her love.

After long journeys, and many adventures, she arrived at the city of Underlight, and quickly learned the skills needed to awaken to the Dream state....where she can be found today.

Here is Gwenivere....a simple woman wearing a ring of royal bearing, and an unusual amulet about her neck.... she is a Dreamseer.