<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/x2Bu1WC.png)</div><strong>Jenny Sticks</strong>(https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=315165.msg15241630#msg15241630)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Merc Co main hall, then out in the woods<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Calanthe, Zhendaya, Jen'mawg<br/><strong>HP:</strong>21<strong>AC:</strong>17<strong>PP:</strong>12<br/><strong>Active Effects:</strong><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spells</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>Cantrips:</strong> Thaumaturgy, Guidance, Toll the Dead, Spare the Dying<br/><strong>1<sup>st</sup>:</strong> 4/4<br/><em>Cause Fear, Cure Wounds, Bane, Charm Person<sup>D</sup>, Disguise Self<sup>D</sup></em><br/><strong>2<sup>nd</sup>:</strong> 2/2<br/><em>Blindness / Deafness, Spiritual Weapon, Mirror Image<sup>D</sup>, Pass Without Trace<sup>D</sup></em></div></div><hr/><br/><br/>Jenny paused as they were leaving and a sword appeared out of nowhere for Jen'Mawg. That wad odd, but she didn't say anything about it... until they reached the door to the city beyond.<strong> "Sooooo, where's the <em>rest</em> of it?"</strong>The tiefling gave Jen'Mawg a teasing smile as they stepped out.<strong>"Don't tell me; it's not the size of the blade that matters, it's the skill of the thrusting?"</strong><br/><br/><hr/><br/>She hadn't been lying about not ever being outside the city. Jenny was feeling a definite sense of agoraphobia without walls around her. And she couldn't tell strawberries from poison oak - not that she found either one, but just on principle. She<em>did</em>in fact agree to third watch though, reasoning it would give her the most time to sleep, and leaving the human in the literal dark didn't seem like a great idea anyway.<br/><br/>Oddly it'd been Jenny who had proposed their place to camp... mostly because the tight copse of trees didn't leave her feeling exposed. As dusk fell, she hung her holy symbol - that dimly-glowing wire-and-glass lantern she had showed Calanthe - from a low-hanging branch, and whispered softly to it for a while. The others could hear their names mentioned if they listened closely, but likely they were busy setting up the camp. That done, she ate some of the leftover hors d'ourves she had smuggled, and nestled back against a large tree in the copse. Arms wrapped tight around her bag of goods, she quickly dropped into sleep, even in her leather armor, as only people used to grabbing naps where they may can do.<br/><br/>And so she was when the wolves came, head pressed on the top flap of her backpack, cheek damp from a little sleep-drool, making noises that were just a little too soft to really be called snores.