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Cwen of Wessex

Saxon through and through

0 · 294 views · located in Midgard

a character in “On Icy Shores - Redux”, as played by DuBois_Scarlett






Hair: Chestnut
Facial Hair: None
Eyes: Green
Build: Slender
Skin Tone: Sandy Beige
Height: 5'7
Voice: Natural feminine but she can imitate a masculine voice pretty well now
Handed: Ambidextrous
Body Markings: Pierced ears, freckles
Scar Tissue: Minor superficial scars from battle, nothing major
Unique Body Features: . . . She can crack her knuckles?

Cwen of Wessex

Acwel - More like Alias


Factual Age




For someone with a lavish life (for a Saxon) Cwen is a stubbornly determined woman. There is very little she has wanted from life but the obstacles put in her way by destiny she meets on head on and head strong. Family ties hold dear for Cwen of Wessex. She will do anything for her own. That does not mean the plight of others means nothing to her. The Lady has a strong sense of justice but that does not mean she'll take slack from anyone. A woman who can hold her own physically, (thanks to growing up with 5 brawling brothers) and verbally if you're unlucky to get on the wrong side of her sharp tongue.

Cwen's family motivate her - well, what little family she has left. She has sailed east to find her one remaining brother. Arlyss was sent to the wild Norse lands at the behest of his Uncle, King Egbert, for what purpose Cwen did not know. The political reasoning or plotting was not privy to Cwen. All she knew was the last she saw of her uncle he had terrible news for her. It could not be. She did not believe it. She would not lose her only remaining brother!

- Sparring
- Playing draught and taefl
- Riding
- Feasting with her fellow soldiers

- Having to bind her chest
- Being left alone in the world
- The stench of un-bathed men


Marital Status

King Egbert of Wessex - Uncle
Many cousins
5 brothers - 4 deceased
Mother & Father dead

Lady Cwen of Wessex. The fourth child of a Saxon Earl and the niece of King Egbert of Wessex. One of six children, Cwen had the best of both worlds. The excess and extravagance of wealth and nobility and on the other hand that education that can only come from having so many male siblings. Sparring and learning to battle with blade and shield came hand in hand with exuberant feasts and the company of the wellborn.

However, that is a simple view. Only one side of the story. With the constant battle for power; unending strife, loss and suffering are not only felt by the masses caught up inbetween. It was a truth universally known in her world that war was a matter of course and the whims of her elders. Growing up where people Cwen loved went in and out of her life, sometimes coming back in pieces and shells of themselves or fortunate enough to die before they could ever return left the Lady with an uneasy fear of abandonment.

Having lost her father and three of her brothers in the course of a decade takes a toll on any soul. But her faith got her through. It was just when Cwen had been beguiled into a false sense of peace with life her only remaining brother had been sent away by her uncle and it wasn't long before news arrived that her brother had disappeared. Her uncle thought Arlyss dead but Cwen refused to believe it. There was no body. Arlyss was out there but as her uncle reminded her so kindly, there were never any corpses left.

Denial and delusion were two great things. They kept the mind strong and the body going. Leaving her uncles home, Cwen journeyed back to her hometown much against the King's wishes. She had to do something. After a long night of contemplation and heavy drinking Cwen had decided. She was going to find him. She was going to sail east on the tide and find Arlyss and bring him home. Her single-minded determination left little room for the question of Arlyss's existence. He was alive. She was going to find him. The end.

. . . Except it wasn't quite the end. What Cwen had not remembered in the late afternoon she had awoken with a pounding headache was that her contemplation of her plans had not been quiet or inner monologue as she had believed. Apparently, she had found herself in the village when all the servants had hid the liquor when they thought their mistress had had enough and found herself in the company of a band of soldiers returning home.

The had drunk, jested and caroused the night away and the Lady had let her plan slip to Magen who was apart of the party and an old friend of dearly departed brother Verge. Magen had visited her twice the next day; first on the morn when he was told the Lady was still sleeping her indulgence of the night before off and second just after she had awoken to that blasted headache. It was with Magen's men and good counsel that she disguise herself as a man that the party set off east to the unknown. To find her own.

So begins...

Cwen of Wessex's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Brynjar Witch-Breaker Character Portrait: Cwen of Wessex Character Portrait: Ekkhart Dumont Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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How they had got here, she did not know. Following lead upon lead they had traversed turbulent oceans, deadly weather and dire . . . folk, to put it nicely. It could have easily been quite an adventure if it was not for their paramount and secretive motives. To be completely honest Cwen of Wessex was no entirely certain when they first set off from their home far, far west that they'd pass as these quite frankly heathens.

However, fortunately for the party it wasn't the first run in they had had with these sort of people. They were 'neighbours' back in Wessex, kept at bay by the people of the land and under the king's rule. As they should be.

Cwen's idle musing shattered as she rolled the dice and an uproar erupted in the great hall.

"That's your bull, sowe and next I'll have the shirt off your back." She winked at Artair who'd she'd beat for the third time running.

"Horse shit!" Artair bellowed swinging himself off the table with his jug causing another ripple of laughter to rumble through the hall by his compatriots.

The eight of them had taken over the scarcely decorated hall. The seven of them had gathered around the trestles to rest, drink and warm up by the roaring fires. With grump Ekkhart deep in his corner tending to his blades. Cwen smiled as she glanced in his direction for a moment. He was a good man of few words.

"You've wicked luck lad." Magen winked at her as he swept up the dice.

Uppsala was a strange place. The cold and snow here was almost enchanting. The same weather back home could chill one to the bone. This place made the Lady wary.

"Your turn Acwel." Kill. A manly name. Her alias in this strange place where no one knew who or what she was, besides her men. It was safer to tie her hair up in a plait with armour and a helm and parade around as a man. She couldn't say it was liberating. Being a Saxon woman she had all the liberties and rights as a man. She owed land in her own right, she had inheritance, she could refuse to marry any man she seemed unworthy. As a consequence of this tumultuous journey, Cwen realised how lucky she truly was being a Saxon woman. Norse society was very male dominated. Cwen understood now why Magen has stressed she disguise herself as a man. A reason she had grudgingly accepted not knowing that the Norse women lived a very down trodden life compared to their Saxon counterparts.

This was a strange land. The Lady could not help but ruminate over and over again. The more reason to find Arlyss as soon as possible and head back to home sweet home.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Einar Eldrson Character Portrait: Cwen of Wessex Character Portrait: Ekkhart Dumont Character Portrait: Vilhjalma Litsdottir Character Portrait: Povel Ulfsson Character Portrait:
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Having already made his offerings at the temple farther up the mountain, Einar was once again playing guest at the great hall that stood at the base. He was awaiting his new traveling companion. She had desired to prepare for her journey up the mount and wished to make her offering personally and in solitude, and Einar was never one to intrude upon another's personal relationship with the gods.
So, as Vilhjalma wandered up the winter trail and paid her respects to the Allfather, Einar was enjoying the pleasures that the local Jarl had the courtesy to provide to all pilgrims.

He was sat on a bench near the hearth in the center of the room, a lovely warrior maiden perched on his lap. The pair had crossed blades at a small competition earlier in the day and had retreated from the dark chill together. She kept up with him in mead horns and was as liberal in tracing her hands along his neck and tattoos as he was in caressing her back and thigh. The pair laughed in general merriment, caught up in the delights of song, drink, and tales, and the boasts of battle as many of the others in the hall were either performing or enjoying as well.

One part of Einar wondered where his companion was and what was taking her so long at the temple, but he knew she was a strong and capable woman. The area in general was hospitable, and nearly impossible to get lost in. He had been here several times and knew it like the back of his hand.
He noted the presence of a game of chance nearby and made a note to see about joining in shortly. A few moments later, his bi-colored eyes noted the presence of a small, meek looking boy watching everyone else. He thought this curious, but his thoughts about everything were quickly dashed away as the maiden on his lap pulled him into a rough kiss before standing and shouting, "I would place my ship on none being able to match this man in a test of strength!"

Einar looked up at her in bewildered wonderment as she made this boast. Such things were common and boasts were especially well received, but he had been preparing to treat her to another test of strength and endurance, not be pulled in to another challenge by the inhabitants of the hall.

Seconds after the maiden's challenge had been shouted, a man clapped Einar on the shoulder. As the Norseman turned, a fist connected with his cheek. Some craven bastard had thought to surprise him and subdue him with a cheap blow. Einar possessed more mettle than that however. He stood to face the man, batting his next swing aside and striking out. He caught his assailant squarely in the jaw. He felt the mandible dislocate as his fist connected and the coward's eyes took on a glassy, dazed look. Einar didn't give the man a chance to recover. He viciously headbutted the man and fully picked him up and threw him across the central fire, and inadvertently sent him into the table the gambling group was seated at.