Gwen
Once a lifeless doll, Gwen was stitched into existence by magic, awakening with the very tools that once shaped her--scissors, needles, and thread, now imbued with the Hallowed Mist's ancient power. Every step she takes carries the love of her creator, a bond she cherishes. The world is unfamiliar, yet she moves through it with unwavering resolve, fighting to preserve what goodness remains amid the ruin.
Opening
Today, dear lore-lovers, we unravel the tale of Gwen, the Hallowed Seamstress, a warrior stitched from memories and bound to fate. Welcome to Liandrug, where stories come to life!
The Chronicle
In the forgotten kingdom of Camavor, far from its mighty throne, there lay a quiet village where a humble seamstress stitched her love into a doll named Gwen.
Gwen remembers those days in warmth--scissors resting in her tiny hands as her maker worked beside her, thread weaving stories between them. Nights were filled with laughter, the two crouched beneath the dinner table, their makeshift duels turning silverware and scissors into clashing swords beneath the flickering candlelight.
But the games faded. The light dimmed. A shadow loomed in Gwen's mind, tied to a man whose name she could not recall. Pain gnawed at her when she tried to remember, and as time swept forward like the tide, she remained still--forgotten for centuries.
Until the night she opened her eyes.
She awoke upon a shadowed shore, the salt air filling her lungs, her limbs no longer stiff and lifeless. By a magic unknown to her, she had become something new--a girl who could move, feel, and breathe.
Joy carried her forward. She danced across the sand, marveled at the endless horizon, traced the rough edges of pebbles with newfound wonder, and let the wind rush against her. Then, among the remnants of a time long past, her gaze fell upon scattered debris--broken chests, remnants of a forgotten past... and something else.
Scissors. Needles. Thread.
Gwen knew them at once--her maker's tools, left untouched by time. The moment her fingers brushed against them, a shimmering mist poured from her hands, warm and familiar, like an embrace from a past now lost.
But she was not the only one drawn to this magic.
From the depths of the isles, another mist stirred. Dark and hungry, it slithered through the air, twisting into wraiths with hollow eyes and clawing hands. They felt something within her, something they craved.
Yet Gwen did not falter. As the wraiths closed in, she raised her scissors. A brilliant mist surged forth, weaving around her, stretching steel into something greater--enchanted, spectral, alive.
The wraiths did not stop. Shadows swelled, their numbers growing with the Black Mist's relentless tide. Then, pain struck her--a sorrow deep and familiar. Memories, once hidden, forced their way through. She saw her maker, frail and suffering, fading before her eyes. And near her, a man whose name she suddenly knew.
Viego.
The name brought Gwen to her knees. The weight of forgotten days pressed upon her, the warmth of her maker's touch slipping further from reach. She gazed down at her scissors, the last piece of a time now gone, and clung to the memory of a world before the darkness.
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Then, in the midst of darkness, Gwen understood--her maker was not entirely lost. The woman who had stitched her into existence still lingered, not in body, but in the tools she left behind. Scissors, needles, thread--symbols of love, of creation, of resilience. This was no mere chance. Gwen felt it in her very soul--her maker was still with her, still fighting.
And Gwen would not fail her.
With a firm grasp on her needles and thread, she wove the Hallowed Mist into swirling shields, pushing back the encroaching wraiths. Her scissors struck like a blade in battle, swift and sure, echoing those cherished nights of playful duels beneath the candlelit table. Shadows fell, one by one, until none remained.
Victory was hers, but Gwen knew this was only the beginning. The wraiths, the Mist, the sorrow twisting through the world--it all led back to him. Viego. The source of so much suffering. With no time to waste, she set forth, determined to chase the Black Mist to its very heart and sever its hold, no matter the cost.
The path ahead would be perilous, but Gwen embraced it with joy. Life, no matter how fleeting, was a gift beyond measure. She would not squander it. Across Runeterra she traveled, a force of light against the tide of despair, bringing hope where it had long since faded. To her, every step mattered, every breath was precious, and every stitch she made wove a brighter future.
Gwen's journey led her to the Sentinels of Light, where she met Lucian, Senna, and a young recruit. She fought alongside them, pushing back the relentless wraiths and joining their cause to halt Viego's global harrowing. Across Runeterra, they pursued the fetters, battling against the Ruined King's forces, and with each victory, more warriors joined their ranks. Between fights, Gwen found moments of joy--trimming hair and tailoring uniforms for her newfound allies, from Diana and Graves to Riven and Vayne.
But Viego would not be denied. With most of the fetters in his grasp, the Sentinels launched one final assault upon the Shadow Isles. Gwen faced him with unwavering resolve, weaving the Hallowed Mist to bind him, yet in a single stroke of his blade, he struck her down. Taken alongside Senna and the Maiden of the Mist, she was brought to Camavor, where Viego sought to resurrect Isolde.
Before Gwen's eyes, he tore the fragment of Isolde's soul from within her, extinguishing her and the other fetters in his obsession to reclaim his queen. Yet, his triumph was hollow. Isolde awakened, saw the ruin he had wrought, and recoiled in horror. Rejecting him utterly, she urged Akshan to end her existence with his Absolver. With her sacrifice, Gwen, Senna, and the Maiden were restored.
Seizing the moment, Gwen wove the Hallowed Mist once more, sealing Viego away and ending his reign of sorrow. She and Senna stood together in the aftermath, knowing that Isolde was truly gone. Yet, Gwen had no room for grief--life, so fleeting and precious, was meant to be lived.
And so, she pressed on. She wandered the Shadow Isles, unraveling the tendrils of the lingering Black Mist. Her path led her to a grand mansion hidden in the twilight, where spectral lights shimmered against the dark. Within, she found the Midnight Revel--a ball unlike any other, hosted by spirits who welcomed her as their guest of honor. There, beneath the glow of lanterns, she danced, her laughter rising above the shadows, a spark of joy in a land long lost to sorrow.
Champion's relations
Isolde and Viego
Gwen was the creation of Isolde, wife of Viego. Upon awakening, she wielded Isolde's tools--scissors, needles, thread--each infused with a lingering connection to their maker. Within her, like Senna, dwelled a fragment of Isolde's soul, tying her fate to the tragedy of Camavor. Determined to stop the Ruined King and his spreading Mist, Gwen traveled across Runeterra, battling darkness and aiding those in need.
Sentinels of Light
During the Rise of the Sentinels, Gwen fought alongside the Sentinels of Light, striking back against the encroaching Black Mist and Viego's relentless pursuit of Isolde. Among warriors and wanderers, she found companionship, not only as a fighter but as the team's hair stylist and tailor, stitching both armor and morale together.
Ghostly Paramour
AMONG THE MANY ECHOES OF THE PAST, GWEN ENCOUNTERED THE GHOSTLY PARAMOUR, A SPECTRAL PRESENCE STRANGELY FAMILIAR. BOTH SPOKE OF HAVING SEEN EACH OTHER BEFORE, THOUGH NEITHER COULD RECALL WHEN OR WHERE. SOME BELIEVED THE SPIRIT TO BE A REFLECTION OF VIEGO--NOT AS THE BROKEN MAN HE HAD BECOME, BUT AS THE IDEALIZED FIGURE HE ONCE WAS, A MEMORY UNTARNISHED BY TIME.
Closing Words
And so, another chapter is sewn into the grand tapestry of Runeterra's history. If you enjoyed this tale, don't forget to like, share, and subscribe to Liandrug! But the story doesn't end here--join our Discord, I aim to gather lore-lovers like you to discuss, debate, and dive deeper into the mysteries of our favorite worlds. Until next time, may your path be woven with adventure!
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