<table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td>(http://i371.photobucket.com/albums/oo154/PhantomPistoleer/Elf_by_artbytravis.jpg)</td><td><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 30pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Edwardian script itc;">Draque Cyredeplith</span></span><hr/><tt class="bbc_tt">Elven Rogue/Ranger, Level 3;<br/>Current HP: 25; Condition: Normal (Cold);</tt><hr/><br/>The elf became sullen.<br/><br/> "I lost my blanket, too," he said, grumbling.  He ran down his list of items and realized that he did not possess anything, aside from his clothes and his magic cloak, that could ward off the cold.  He draped his arm over the back of the chair, glanced around in a rather roguish manner and leaned forward.   "I am beginning to think that I need to... acquire a blanket or two."   Eyebrows furrowed, wiggled and, with a complacent smirk, leaned back.<br/><br/> "I'm getting the chills just thinking about going out there!" he said, rubbing his chest.   "If I could tell a lie without showing it, I'd tell that foreman that we needed a care package for the three women.  Imagine!  They probably have not eaten a square meal, they are probably freezing, too."  He tapped his chin, thinking hard, unawares that he had already stated the solution to his problems.  Sometimes Draque was too smart for his own good.</td></tr></tbody></table>