Doctor Stu Marley Kendal
I met Ilsa during a salvage mission in the Albany NanoTech Complex—whole teams wiped out trying to rescue a group of trapped engineers. She went in alone after they called it, wouldn’t take no for an answer. That’s who she was. Stubborn as hell. Sharp, too—could cut through a problem like a scalpel if she needed to. But there was kindness in her, something fierce and quiet. She didn’t save people for glory or pay. She did it because she couldn’t stand to leave someone behind. I thought… I thought if anyone deserved to live, it was her. I didn’t realize what I’d wake up in her trying to keep her alive.
The Doctors
If the players go to the Hospital and talk to the doctors, doing an investigation check DC 10, they will be able to find out the following:
- She could have been a Head of Department, but she kept declining promotion.
- She was seen as brave and reckless in equal measures.
Doctor Christine Louis Segers
Ilsa Var wasn’t just a medic—she was the kind of person who made the rest of us feel like we might just be good enough if we tried harder. She didn’t chase recognition, and she didn’t waste time on people who did. She carried herself like someone who’d walked through hell and taken notes. I’ve seen her sew up someone’s femoral artery in a sandstorm with half a kit and no backup. And she still had the grace to smile at the patient afterward and ask if they were okay. She didn’t posture. She didn’t pretend. She just was—present, capable, unshakable. We weren’t close, not in the way people like to imagine, but I admired her. I trusted her. And if she’d asked me to follow her into fire, I wouldn’t have hesitated. That’s who she was. That’s what we lost. Sometimes, I hope that she will find her way home.
Doctor Adrian Royce
Ilsa was… sharp. Not just smart—dangerous smart. You ever meet someone who doesn’t just think a few moves ahead, but already knows how you’ll react to each one? That was her. But she didn’t need you to like her—hell, I don’t even think she wanted you to. She moved through people the way a needle moves through skin: quick, clean, and without apology. Some saw her as cold. I’d argue she was just... efficient. She wasn’t cruel, but if you got in her way, you learned quickly that being necessary to her meant the difference between survival and being forgotten. I respected her. I think most of us did—even the ones who feared her.
Doctor Elira Vasquez
Doctor Elira Vasquez looks out into the distance, her fingers idly fidgeting with the corner of a sterile bandage—softened with a strange, almost reverent warmth. “Ilsa wasn’t like anyone else,” she begins, her voice quiet, nearly lost beneath the hum of equipment and flickering lights. “She walked into a room and didn’t demand attention—but you gave it to her anyway. Not because of arrogance or force... but because there was this gravity to her. Like she saw everything—you—in a way no one else ever quite did. She didn’t suffer fools, and she sure as hell didn’t pretend to be gentle. But underneath all that precision, the clinical focus, there was a depth that most people missed. Not me. Not... not everyone saw it, but it was there. She made you want to be better, sharper, stronger—because to be anything less in her presence felt like a kind of betrayal.” Elira pauses, blinking once, slow and deliberate. “She never needed saving. But I think, sometimes, she saved the rest of us just by being exactly who she was.”
if the party presses her for information, you the social interaction rules to determine how much she reveals to them. If the interaction goes well, she will disclose that she and Ilsa were once lovers in secret.
Chief Resident Jasper Goyo Vinci
Chief Resident Jasper Goyo Vinci folds his arms across his chest, his expression tinged with a curious mixture of admiration and detachment. “Ilsa,” he says, almost with a reverent exhale, as if speaking her name alone holds weight. “I never met her. She disappeared before I even started training. But in the halls, the labs, the whispers between rotations—you still hear her. Like a ghost that refuses to fade. They say she was brilliant. Not just smart—visionary. The kind of mind that made others feel slow just standing near her. But it wasn’t just the intellect—it was the nerve. Ilsa did what others wouldn’t, asked the questions no one dared to voice. Some say she crossed lines. Others say she redrew them.” His gaze shifts to the middle distance, briefly haunted. “You get the sense she was chasing something bigger than policy. Bigger than protocol. And maybe... that’s why she vanished. Not everyone survives a mind like that. But no one forgets it, either.”
Clerk
Ilsa has been missing for a decade. After 3 years, her room in the boarding house at the Medical Academy was cleaned out. She was presumed dead. Her few belongings were given to the person listed as her next of kin.
Anya Var
She is Ilsa's sister, two years younger. She works on the farm in Camp Hope and demonstrates a natural knack for handling animals.
“She was always so much more than the rest of us,” Anya says, her voice quiet but unwavering. “Ilsa could walk into a room and everything would shift, like gravity remembered where it belonged. She was brilliant, but it wasn’t just her mind—it was the way she made you want to be better. Even when she was exhausted, even when the weight of everything was dragging her down, she’d smile like she was carrying it all on purpose. People followed her because she never looked afraid. But I knew better. She was scared. She just never let that stop her. And when she disappeared, it felt like the world lost its center. Like we were all just spinning without her.”
If asked about what was left in her sister's room or for more information in general:
Anya pulls a slender chain from beneath her collar, revealing a small, weathered pendant—an intricate spiral of silver entwined with a shard of deep green glass. She cradles it in her palm for a moment before speaking, her eyes distant but steady. “This is all I have left of her,” she says quietly. “She wore it every day. It’s a symbol from some old myth—she told me once it meant transformation through fire. Said it reminded her that becoming something new always hurts, but it’s worth it.” Her voice wavers slightly, but she doesn’t look away. “I don’t know where she is now. No one does. But if I had to guess... she’s out there doing something none of us were ready for. Something bold. Something impossible. That’s who she was.”
She will give the party a photo of Ilsa.
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