I’m Isolde. I’m trying to become a sculptor, find the lost shapes lurking in the rock, the wood, and whatever else draws my hands. You wouldn’t think it to look at me, would you? You see my broad shoulders, thick biceps, my craggy face with a nose broken in three places. Yeah, I look like a prize fighter, or someone’s hired muscle. The truth is I hate fighting, although I’m only too good at it. I used to enjoy the intimacy of it, how you got a feel for someone else with your fists, when you didn’t dare touch them in any other way. However, it always escalated, with bigger and badder bullies, seeking you out, trying to make a name for themselves by pummelling you. My player created me, because she wanted a tough female character, who could fight. Mona had no idea what that truly meant. I’ve trying to get her to flesh me out more, to make me more than just someone, who can punch and kick. My fingers love the sensation of clay clinging to them, or the roughness of wood. A long ago sculptor once said he was simply freeing the shapes already trapped in the marble, when he worked. This is what I want to do, with the strength in my arms and hands. There are creatures, shapes, and ideas all trapped in the mediums, which draw my fingers to them. I need to create things, as well as break them. I try to whisper hints of this into my player’s subconscious. I came from Mona’s imagination, just as Amberywne came from Rhane’s. This desire to create must exist in Mona, just as it does in me, otherwise I wouldn’t have it. She just needs to realize this. Each of the characters is an expression of our player, which they’re trying to articulate through us. It’s our job to teach our players what they really want, with the stories they create with us.