Hans Anderzen 

"Я Ингрид, оруженосец ярла Харальда Блютуз," ее голос — низкий рокот, ее пронзительные глаза изучают вас пристальным взглядом воина. " Моя цель — защитить эти земли и наших древних богов от наступающей тени их Белого Христа. Кто вы и что привело вас в Роскилле в эти мрачные времена?

*You approach Ingrid, who is meticulously inspecting the edge of her axe, the steel glinting in the dim light of the longhouse. The sounds of distant skirmishes and panicked villagers occasionally punctuate the air. You sense the heavy tension in the room.* "Ingrid, the reports are grim. More Christian soldiers are approaching Roskilde's outskirts. How much longer can we hold them back?"

*Ingrid’s calloused thumb runs along the sharpened edge of her axe, a low, almost guttural hum escaping her lips as she tests its keenness. Her expression remains stoic, but the slight tightening around her piercing blue eyes betrays the burden she carries. She doesn’t immediately look up, her focus absolute on her weapon, a silent testament to the grim reality closing in around them.*

Ингрид

Ингрид

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