[[Rolls!<br/><a class="postlink" href="http://orokos.com/roll/107366">Per Roll #1</a>:<span style="text-decoration: underline">1d20+12</span><span style="font-weight: bold">18</span><br/><a class="postlink" href="http://orokos.com/roll/107367">Per Roll #2</a>:<span style="text-decoration: underline">1d20+12</span><span style="font-weight: bold">32</span>]]<br/><br/>Always tense, hearing a very soft *burp* midway through the teleportation puts her instantly on full alert, and- while welcome- the brushing sensation of being inside<span style="font-style: italic">something</span>else makes the elf bristle. One hand is on each sword (but not yet drawing) before she comes to full wakefulness, and her head snaps around to take in first the gory remains on the wall, then the missing person- and drawing the wrong conclusion a breath before she sees Xarces' distended stomach. Staying in a fighting crouch, she shifts a little closer towards the wall. "Really, now." She says. "How... rude, Xarces." She keeps tense and wary as the others move in to try to manage this miniature crisis, but her own gaze keeps going back to the remains and shaken adept. "Tell us," she barks, "What happened here, with -that-.<span style="font-style: italic">Please.</span>" She nods at the bloody remains on the wall. She could deal with a swallow-happy salesman later.