<blockquote><div><cite>9kirby99 wrote:</cite>I roll my eyes. "You know, before we figured out how to brew potions, there was still a way to bandage up a wound." I reach forward and rip off some of her clothing to use for bandages. "Sorry, but I figure we'll need to find new clothes when we find civilization anyway." I then go ahead and try to remove the spike and patch the wound up.<br/><br/>(Guess I'll need to leave this to the DM)</div></blockquote><br/><br/>She squirmed away again, then, realizing, again, what he was up to, tugged her shirt off and handed it to him. "Sorry. Maybe--sorry." Yeah, okay, now she was starting to feel woozy. At least it made it easier to stop talking. That was nice. Probably not nice in a good way, though. "Gods, where's a keg of stout when you need one..." At least she still had her hair tie. What the hell did<span style="font-style: italic">that</span>have to do with anything?!<br/>Despite her relative silence, it was still pretty obvious that her mind was bouncing around in her head like an orc brawler in a pub; her green eyes and sharp features kept shifting from confusion, to frustration, to mild relief, to embarrassment, as if she'd never stopped talking. She was only about five feet tall, and slender, which might have helped to explain why she only hit one spike on the way down the cliff, but confused internal monologue notwithstanding, she looked reasonably tough. Not like a feather'd blow her over, anyway. Her skin was extremely pale, though how much of that could be attributed to blood loss was not immediately clear.<br/><br/>((Forgot to give a description, so... Here's sort of one; sorry.))