Algrid Trondesdotter
Class: Female, Human
That’s it, exactly. How did you guess?
There is a sign with the words “Algrid Trondesdotter” above the door.
you knock. A moment later, a young woman of maybe 18 years, with the most gorgeous blond hair you’ve ever seen, opens the door.“You are a relative of Hyggelik’s, aren’t you?”
“Jurge Torfinsson sent us.”
“A certain Kolberg gave us your name.”
There is a sign with the words “Algrid Trondesdotter” above the door.
you knock, but nobody seems to be at home.“We are here on the hetman’s orders.”
“Kolberg??” she thinks about it.
“Oh, yes, the guy who bought my map. 5 [N] ducats he gave me for it. And now you’ll be wanting to know whether I know anybody else who owns a map like that, won’t you?”“That’s it, exactly. How did you guess?”
“What makes you think that?”
“Well, he asked the same question. But I can only tell you what I told him: I don’t know anything about that map.”
“Well, thank you very much, anyway, and good bye.”
“Do you know anything else that may be of help?”
“Good luck!”
you continue exploring the town.“Oh well, before you spend hours grilling me for information, I better tell you all I can think of.
now, this is about Hyggelik the great, isn’t it…”“My great-great-grandfather Trutzke was the only survivor of the expedition into the orcish lands. He ended up losing his mind as he got old, kept muttering something about some ruins and a treasure - just tall tales, if you ask me.
there is a fellow called Asgrimm Thurboldsson in Breida, who tells a lot of fairy tales about Hyggelik. His ancestor is supposed to be another survivor - I think that’s just a lie to impress people but you never know!”“That’s all I know. Maybe you should ask my cousin Tiomar Swafnildsson. He lives on Manrek.”
She takes her leave.
“Good luck to you!”.
you wander about Hjalsingor a bit longer.“Jurge Torfinsson? Never heard of him. What does he want from me?”
“He doesn’t want anything from you, we do. It’s like this.”“That’s not true, actually, but you’re not the first to bother me about that. Ah well, before you grill me for hours with your questions, I’d better tell you all I know.”
“On the hetman’s orders? What do you want from me, then?!”
“I had a map once; I inherited it from Trutzke - not directly from him, of course, he’s been dead too long. My granny told me the parchment had come down from Hyggelik himself. Two years ago, a merchant passed this way - I think his name was Kollborn or something. He actually paid 5 [N] ducats for that worthless piece of paper.”
“It’s about this map.”
“What can I do for you?”
You march through Hjalsingor for a while and finally reach Algrid’s place.
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