OOC: It's pretty likely Elisia will end up as a cute swathe of fat and a less endearing pile of fertilizer, but she won't make it<span style="font-style: italic">that</span>easy!<span style="font-size: 40%; line-height: 116%;">hopefully.</span><br/><br/>Elisia had been skeptical of the party's impromptu assault from the beginning, even more so after taking up the spontaneous role of centauress cavalry. There was a tiny sense of validation that registered in her brain as the arrow, undetected by even her keen senses struck Wilnomna's flank and brought down the fierce warrior woman like a sack of bricks along with her half-elven passenger. "...<span style="font-style: italic">Damn</span>." That was the only word that registered in the sorceress' mind as she sailed through the air, colliding with the paved roadside and skidding along the coarse surface. The unforgiving stone shredded much of her fragile cloak, not to speak of the initial impact that probably left a mark or two on the side of the poor half-elf's head.<br/><br/>Despite this, she did at least try to take stock of things - weakly lifting her head to peer towards the battle at large. Glazed emerald eyes drifted from combatant to combatant lazily - sound was muffled, time had seemed to slow down for the moment while the mage collected herself. Her gaze lingered on the tigress; wounded as she was, there was little stopping her from meandering over and casually helping herself to a filling elven meal. Dazed as she was, even Elisia wasn't sure if she'd bother to squirm going down a tight, constricting gullet, meekly surrendering to the endearing undulations of slimy, groping stomach walls all around her.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Snap out of it!</span>Ferya's timely intervention reminded her that the battle hadn't been lost yet. Though she cringed at the sight of the bloodied centauress, they could still pull through. Balling up her fists, a groan of exertion escaped her as she tried to pull herself up and off the ground.