Briar Island. Finally. It certainly was a long trip to get here. The letter with the key and the 4000 Euros reached me in Ushuaia, southern Argentina, where I just returned from a fourteen day hike through the wilderness. Talk about being „al culo del mundo“. But it suited me fine, to be out of sight, especially out of sight of the Swiss law enforcement. No idea how that lawyer managed to track me down, but track me down he did. And when I read the letter he sent me, I instantly knew that this was the chance of a lifetime.
So I packed my belongings, which didn't take more than ten minutes, since they all fit easily in a backpack, headed for Italy, crossed the border on a mountain path into Switzerland and soon arrived at my former home. My late grandfathers' chest was still there, and in it all he ever wrote about Briar Island and it's rules and costumes. I carefully read it all again. Then I went to a good friend, spent a lot of money on things that would come handy in times of fighting and scheming and left for southern France.
Hitchhiking down the Rhone valley some asshole truck driver made a terrible mistake by trying to rape me. Guess he was fooled by my petite frame and my young age, and probably attracted by my long blonde hair and firm butt. Well, he will regret his mistake for the rest of his life. At least the truck brought me directly to Saint Correns, where I boarded the stinking vessel to Briar Island.
And here it is. Briar Island. Nice to look at, but I'm not here to look at it. I'm here to own it.
I jump down onto the jetty, take my heavy backpack one of the deckhands is holding out for me and swing it onto my back.
Then I turn around and start towards the manor without looking back. On the way I think again about how I should proceed. Probably play the dumb blonde chick. Show them some ass and tits, that usually does the trick. For further scheming I rely on the two pounds of grey matter between my ears. They have helped me out of every trouble so far.
I may not look like it, but hauling a 20kg backpack is no biggie for me. And if those slobs don't even have a cab or a transport here then I don't mind walking to the manor. But I sure hope they have something decent on the table for dinner.

OOC
Name: Luisa Malatesta
Hard limits: probably scat, mutilation (don't know really)
About the codes: i didn't get what they mean, please someone PM me about it. But i guess i could live with being enslaved by F or M if that's what it's about.