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    Isolde Sturmweber
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  1. A Reinmaren soldier would come home from a long and boring day of duties. As she opened her mailbox, she was met with an abundance of missives. "What is all of this scheisse..?" Isolde Sturmweber picked up one of them. Her brows furrowed deeper as she read more, but nodded in agreement with the last few phrases. "Praise Gott, for Minitz is clear of this darkspawn scum." The woman murmured to herself, grabbing a handful of the missives, and tossing them into the fireplace.
  2. Isolde Sturmweber's lips curled into a smile, as she flipped through the pages, and as her eyes scanned through each word of the published chronicles. The woman nodded her head in contetnment and pride of being a good enough warrior to gain the recognition of Her Serene Highness. Her smile grew even wider, as she thought back to the proposition which the Grand Princess gave her, just last saint's day.
  3. IGN: juliaINC RP NAME: Isolde von Minitz PERSONA ID: 86621
  4. juliaINC


    You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.” ((How do you respond?)) Ingrid's body tenses up, but she slowly steps deeper into the tent, and sits down. "Well hey, if you haven't got anything better to do... My father was never up to any good, my Heartlander mother ran off with some elve nobody knows where, so my uncle basically raised me. My father and him were Highlanders. We lived by the mountains, and we used to explore them a lot. Uncle would show me all kinds of berries, tell me which were edible, show me how to make fire. He taught me everything I know. Sometimes I would get tired of those lessons and run off to chase after a squirell or a boy or something" Ingrid shrugs, "Haven't seen him a long time since I left, but the old man was getting rusty anyways." She says with a smile.
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