(1d20 = 15 + 1 INT mod. = 16)<br/><br/>Roga struggles to his hands and knees.  He was scrawny, for a half-orc, but still physically fit in a spindly way.  As his head started to clear, he started to see a little better.  "Well," he said, "I feel like I just got shat out by a giant squid.  Still, it could be worse..."<br/><br/>While he was on his knees, his eyes finally connected to his brain.  Standing in front of him was a Vishkanya.  Having done no small bit of travelling, he'd heard about them a bit, though he hadn't seen one.  On instinct from when he was a child, the hackles on his back rose.  Then, however, his brain stopped him.  'You're stranded,' it told him.  'Now's not a good time to start a fight.'<br/><br/>Thus counseled, he smiled at the woman as he shakily stood up.  "We could have been<span style="font-style: italic">digested</span>and shat out, pardon my Orcish."  As his senses returned, his high voice became much more chipper.  "My name's Roga," he said, "and it looks like we're stuck together.  Do you remember anything about last night?" he asked.