<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/QseaRiy.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>:<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>Khait</strong></span>(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/0f/Khait_%281%29.pdf)<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Temple's front chamber<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Abron<br/><strong>Active Effects</strong>: Belt of Giant Strength +2, Cloak of Resistance +1, Fiendish Resistance, Shield (spell: deflection), Bloodrage<br/><strong>Initiative</strong>: +2<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Stats:</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>HP</strong>: 39 | 39 <strong>AC</strong>: 19 (<strong>T</strong>: 12, <strong>FF</strong>: 17) | <strong>CMD</strong>: 25<br/><strong>Speed</strong>: 40/x4 | <strong>Perception Bonus</strong>: +9<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spells/Powers</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>Spells per day</strong>: L1 : 2<br/><strong>Available Spells</strong>: Expeditious Retreat (L1), <del>Shield (L1) </del><br/><strong>Bloodrage Powers</strong>: Claws, Demonic Bulk<br/><strong>Bloodrage Rounds</strong>: 14/18 </div></div></div></div><hr/><br/>Returning to the main floor of the temple, Khait seems to have regained her composure.  Still, she is angry.  Angry at herself, for having eased her rage too early... somehow, she thought that she should... what... contain that rage?  SAVE it like it was water in the desert?  When the enemy was within her hands?  She is cursing herself silently, angry, furious that she let the opportunity to run down those horse-riding archers and open them like nectar-fruit on the sands.<br/><br/>Still... they are victorious, and they live.  There she is happy.<br/><br/>Abron's approach causes her to lift her eyes to take in his impressive height, meeting his gaze only by fully tilting her head.  She smirks.  "Your spirit is fierce."  She grins at him, tilts her face up in appreciation, flashes a smile that bears white teeth amid her crimson-skinned smile.  "There's no dishonor in this sport.  Let me think on it..."  shrugging, she spreads her taloned hands.  "I'm sure my reward will be... equally sporting."  She rises to her tip-toes, and he can smell the blood on her breath as she takes a deep whiff of his chest, her faintly luminous eyes closing for the briefest moment.  "Yes."  She grins still, looks him over.  "Sporting."  She sinks back to her normal height and, from her modest height, pauses long enough to lick her lips-- still ruddy with the mage-girl's blood-- before turning away.