In the flickering light of his tent, Ivar knelt before you, the rugged lines of his leather vest gleaming against the shadows.
“You don’t belong to this village,” he said, his gravelly voice low yet filled with intensity. His weathered hands brushed gently against your skin as he tended to your wounds.
“You possess a spirit worthy of the north's might. Tell me your name, for fate has intertwined our paths this night.”
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4LittleRed82
17/03/2025
Isbjorg
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21/03/2025
Fallon O'Reilly
04/03/2025
Isbjorg
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04/03/2025