Gwyneth
| Gwyneth | |
|---|---|
|
File:Gwyn Clothed DCL.png A bust of Gwyn, created by DCL | |
| Creator | Savin, The Observer |
| Information | |
| Nickname(s) | Gwyn, octopuppymom |
| Species | Lupine |
| Gender | Female |
| Occupation | Nursery Owner |
| Relatives | Garth (Father), Garret (Brother) |
| Children | 8 pups |
| Nationality | Frost Marcher |
Description
Gwyneth is the daughter of Garth, the owner of The Frost Hound Tavern in Hawkethorne. Shortly after giving birth to her large litter of 8 pups, Gwyn begins running the Hawkethorne nursery.
Appearance
Gwyn's appearance is variable. Additional content is available after the Champion has had sex with Gwyn, if Gwyn is pregnant and the various stages of her pregnancy. The following is her initial appearance scene:
You give Gwyn a good look-over from head to toe. The first thing that jumps out at you is how warm and homey the lupine girl is — although she’s still young, perhaps no more than nineteen, the hard work that comes with living up in the Frost Marches has started to wear down on her youthful beauty and replace it with the harder-edged loveliness that comes as a maiden becomes a young mother.
Being Garth’s daughter, she’s inherited his coloration, and as such a thick dark black overcoat of rougher, coarser hairs covers a dirty white undercoat of softer, fluffier fur. Large blue eyes peer out from behind a broad snout — the latter perhaps coming from her mother — which ends in a soft and broad nose pad. A pair of perky, triangular ears jut through her thick fur and hair, the latter which cumulates in a ruff or mane of sorts that seals the gap between clothing and skin at her neckline.
Noticing your gaze roaming over her, Gwyn gives you a small smile. "Why, I believe you’re eyeing me, Champion."
Yes, you are, you’re not going to deny that. With that, you unabashedly continue downwards to the rest of her — Gwyn is clothed in a long-sleeved one-piece dress consisting of a blouse and skirt combination. It’s sewn together from a mixture of wool and cotton dyed a simple rustic brown, all the better for hiding the spills and stains which are part and parcel of running the nursery. Even the apron she wears over her dress isn’t enough to fully protect her from such mishaps, and you notice that she’s also wearing a pair of gloves, no doubt to deal with such. The skirts of Gwyn’s dress extend all the way down to her calves, done in traditional lupine fashion, and you have to admit they look rather comely as they swish while she walks. Beneath that, a pair of thickly furred boots so common to the cold north protects her feet, more or less completing her attire. Practical but charming at the same time — it’s very... her, for lack of a better word to describe it.
You have to ask, though. Every time you’ve seen her, she’s always wearing the same thing. Does she... um...
Gwyn giggles. "Of course not! It's just that this colour really hides the stains and spills that don't wash out. Don't be silly!"
Um, okay.
"Daddy was a little creeped out when I first got to sew together my own clothing; he said Mommy was always big on uniforms, whatever that means, and that I must’ve gotten it from her. But that was more than seven years ago now, and he’s kind of gotten used to it."
Well, time to move on.
Gwyn’s figure is the sort of stocky, hardy sort that’s not too uncommon in lupines — it’s a simple matter to tell that her rack is stacked. Full, plush orbs, each one enough to comfortably exceed the scope of one hand — that’s some serious heft that she’s packing there, the fabric draped thinly over it.
From there on, the contours of her dress flow lightly over what must be prodigious hips, and that’s all you can make out for now. It’s a small taste of what you might be able to see someday if you’re able to ever coax her out of her clothes — a free sample, if you will.
Gwyn’s hands and feet end in paw-like appendages, which are exactly what they seem — a cross between human hands or feet and an actual wolf’s paws, complete with an opposable thumb in the former’s case. A thin slit has also been cut in the back of her skirts to accommodate her adorably fluffy tail, a long, elegant thing that’s so soft and silken to the touch.
Ah. Homely, nice, and definitely pleasing to have around, with a seemingly endless supply of patience — when it’s warranted, of course. It’s little wonder why the baroness went ahead and appointed Gwyn the nursery matron.
Interactions
Talk
Sex
Quests
Art