<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/afRPyAC.jpg?1)</div><strong>Princess Harriet (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=293833.msg14440794#msg14440794)</strong><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">HP: 35/35, AC/TAC/FFAC: 20/11/19, CMD: 22, Active spells: N/A, Postcounter: 13<br/>Languages: Common, Abyssal</div></div><br/><strong>Location</strong>Valenlands<br/><strong>Taggging</strong>All<br/><br/>Princess Harriet had little need or desire to deflect the blood that sprayed up over her, staining her skin with the signs of her victory, at least until she focused on the illusion and reset it. A Princess had to look her best, and Harriet would be damned (again) before she let that go on for too long.<br/><br/>She still had her weapon in hand, but the blade was held low, away from the woman between their little group. Princess Harriet looked her up and down, a small, thoughtful frown worn upon her lips that almost pouted. She wanted to ask questions, to maybe bargain in other regards. To let her fall back was one thing, a simple, shallow transaction, but there was more potential cooperation there. The woman wanted half of them dead and half taken prisoner, apparently? But why, and to what ends, was something that might be able to be negotiated around. Or maybe not - more fighting was just as good an outcome as any, she supposed. Princess Harriet was versatile.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Actions</div><div class="spoiler_body">Purposefully fail reflex save to dodge blood</div></div>