Lady Amelia Brokridge
From Create Your Own Story
You awake just as the pale winter sun begins to summit the mountain ranges not far off in the distance. Brokridge castle is situated in the south of the realm. it's a harsh and unforgiving land, cradled between the mountain range that hides the freezing polar Ocean, and the swamp and marshlands to the north. The east is a corridor that leads to the land of Sorelmin. Where your father took his small army of peasants in a futile attempt to stop the advancing, highly trained army.
You rise from your bed, letting the bedsheets fall from your naked form. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror in the corner. Your body is lithe, from years of martial training and horse riding. Taut muscles are hidden under pale skin. Your dark brown hair, much like your mother's, falls in lush curls from your head, wrapping softly around your small breasts and reaching down to your navel. It matches the same colour of the slightly trimmed patch of hair between your legs. Your face, neck and shoulders are dotted with freckles, accentuating your piercing, dark green eyes. You have oft been told you are beautiful. You're not sure how true this is. Perhaps a bit of an overstatement, really.
You cross the room, the bare stone cool to the soles of your feet as you gently throw open the doors to the balcony. You step out into the dull morning light, the biting wind from such a height immediately drawing the hairs on your skin to stand to attention, and your nipples to stiffen and ache. When your father left, he had made you acting head of the castle, and by default, the surrounding demesne. As such, you inherited the main bedroom at the very top of the ten floor castle. I am Lady Bokridge, and this is my land, you think to yourself, throwing your arms out with a wry smile as you take in the sight below you. Far below, the surrounding castle has already begun to spring to life. The sound of hammers working steel, dogs barking, small groups moving back and forth in various courtyards and the main gate. The small force of guards left behind slowly walking the ramparts. Tendrils of smoke from several campfires and the kitchens. Beyond the castle walls, you can see the gentle farmlands and distant ranches. Tentatively, you step back from the edge of the balcony. You wouldn't want any of your subjects to cast a glance to the sky and see their illustrious lady in all her natural imagery.
You head back inside, and dress. Simple white undergarments, leather leggings and a silken white blouse. Over the top of that, a black leather jerkin, held at the waist with a loose fitting belt. Long boots. You certainly don't dress like a lady, and the royalty of the North would be appalled. However hard times calls for unusual circumstances. Your job means you must be ready for any occasion, and running around in a dress wouldn't cut it.
What would you like to do now?
