<div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Gra'ak (Note)</div><div class="spoiler_body">In wrestling, the Formula is.<br/>Skill Roll + 1/2 Str + [mods] = TN<br/><br/>Your's:<br/><strong>4 + 3 + 0 = 7 TN</strong><br/><br/>The Elf has to beat your TN to break out of it, by rolling:<br/>Skill Roll + 1/2 Str + Mod = Success/Fail<br/><br/>Elf:<br/><strong>0 + 1 + 0 = 1</strong> <em>Fail</em><br/>Has no skill in Unarmed/Wrestling/Escapist/Counter skills, str is 3, and no items that gives a mod. <br/></div></div><br/>The elf grunted, his bow useless he drops it in favor of making a vain attempt to remove the large arm from around his neck. Teeth grit he gave a mild grunt, the idea perked to stab the knife from his belt into the orc's leg, but that sword was a bit too close for comfort t this particular point. He was only for road duty, not to handle this ruffian so fully. " Dama tes sharra! Fine, I yield. Release me, brute and you can go to town." He coughed, straining his voice a touch at the pressure.  The Oran female moved in a bit with a furrow on her brow, waving her fingers slightly.<br/><br/>" Please, do let him go. He's arrogant, but I'm sure meant well in his duty, even if it is a little shaded." A light pinch of concern was in her tone, her hand sweeping behind her. " I can guide you there. It's not too far..."<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Liltahyanda</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/f6/54/e9/f654e9086747e1ec3aad7a7c85836b34.jpg) <strong>The Wandering Bard</strong></div></div><br/>The green of the valley was serene, lush with vivid colors that it might have hurt his eyes if he was looking upon them too closely. He could heard the birds above, fidgeting with their nests and going a little quiet as he approached to peer down at him. Flutter of wings ceasing until after he passes, they continue to croon and sing, bouncing from branch to branch, or scraping their beaks and talons against he thick bark. The nimble deer took his attention for  moment, in such  lovely woodland, he was feeling jumpy and nervous, those ears seem to bring him to a nervous edge..<br/><br/>Yet maybe he wasn't wrong in the fact of something being out here..<br/><br/>He can hear a voice, saying something... It was almost like a whisper, something he didn't know was there, but it grew a little more audible as a .. Lyric? Was there a bard or minstrel in the woods? It was a woman singing in company to a lute, but then it started to fade again as if the melodious woman was moving away from his location. Well, perhaps that was the most excitement he'd see in a while. As long as he styed on the path, he'd certainty be alright. There seemed to be a rather interesting rock formation up ahead, sitting beside the path that seemed to defy nature. Perhaps it was man made. It looked lime green moss was flowering a small blanket of white blossoms with pink centers. It looked like four stones made a cross with a fifth on top of the center where a large purple flower sat, sprouting saw-ridged leaves that even looked a little sharp...<br/><br/><br/>