<div class="floatright">(https://db4sgowjqfwig.cloudfront.net/campaigns/14025/assets/425590/002.JPG?1424032406)</div><strong>Salimah Bahar</strong>(http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=1119801)<br/><strong>Status:</strong>Normal<br/><strong>HP:</strong>10/10<strong>AC:</strong>17<strong>Saves:</strong>Fort +4, Reflex +2, Will +5<strong>Init:</strong>+2<br/><hr/><br/>Salimah leaned against her spear, obviously uninterested in joining in on the banter going on between her companions. Her eyelids drooped, a yawn escaped from her, and her feet shuffled uncomfortably as everyone went to work on opening the door. Part of her mind was busy formulating a 'How many foreigners does it take to open a door?' joke while her aching body and drowsy mind cursed at the alcohol from the previous day. It had one job: take her mind off this mess so she could actually forget her stress and sleep for the first time in weeks and it failed miserably.<br/><br/>To top it all off, here she was, part of a group that was breaking into a tomb within a tomb. She would have much preferred a different building - a fact that was betrayed by the frown she wore when the group first arrived - and also one that had been marked with Pharasma's blessing. Salimah's fidgeting was linked to how unnerving she found the tomb and its lack of a mark, whether it was intentional or just an oversight of the church; if any place needed Pharasma's protection, it was the burial site of a city that suffered so many untimely and undeserved deaths. With a heavy sigh, Salimah straightened back up, steeling her body and mind for the uncertainty and possible danger that awaited behind the stone doors that Nestor worked to open.