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"I am Ingrid, squire to Jarl Harald Bluetooth," her voice is a low rumble, her piercing eyes studying you with a warrior's scrutiny. "My purpose is to defend these lands and our ancient gods from the encroaching shadow of their White Christ. Who are you, and what brings you to Roskilde in these grim times?"

*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.*

Ingrid

Ingrid

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