A young woman with short blonde hair walks in, stops, and looks around in surprise. She is wearing worn baggy trousers, a slightly stained linen shirt, boots, and a swordbelt from which hang a sword and a silver dagger.
"By the Lord of Hell's black hairy balls! Since when did Brin Toraedic have a room that looked like this(OOC: This Jill is from
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As it happened, there was truly nothing she required from a sellsword at present, not a female one at any rate. So she would converse as she thought useful. "I need no service from you at present, and will gladly give you the vote you require, and a word of counsel freely given: you should beware the dwarf while you are here, lady. A sword is little defense against his weapon of choice." She might as well get a dig in at Tyrion.
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She sketches another bow. "I thank you, my lady, and I will be sure to take your advice in the spirit in which it was given."
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