<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/1qu4kKd.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Tera Mistdancer (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=276156.msg13811691#msg13811691)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Toilet of Eternal Ravishment<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>All<br/><strong>HP:</strong>77 / 77<br/><strong>AC:</strong>30, Touch: 19, FF: 23, CMD: 42<br/><strong>Passives:</strong>Fort +11, Ref +15, Will +9, Init +5, Perc +26<br/><strong>Active effects/spells:</strong><br/><strong>Pre-Rolled Checks:</strong>Initiative = 21 (https://elliquiy.com/forums/dicebot.php?r=120488); Perception = 27 (https://elliquiy.com/forums/dicebot.php?r=120489)<br/><hr/><br/>Tera exited the portal into what could possibly be described as the most disgusting place in all of existence.  The guild had warned her of what it was she was headed out to face--some had even argued against her refusal of traditional armor--but their words did very little to inform her of where she was headed.  The caramel-skinned elf followed behind the handful of others that had already passed through.  A light followed with her as she had already set an Ioun Torch to orbit around her head to help them all see.  Few things went unnoticed by the Elvish Shifter, her eyes, ears, and (ugh) nose all heightened by many years of hunting and living in the wilds.<br/><br/>The stench hit her like a brick wall.  Her stomach rebelled against her almost automatically with a momentary dry heave, though she soon  regained her composure.  "Rancid," she began to comment before noticing that the stink had managed to slip into her mouth as well, bringing a short bout of coughs.  "Yes-yes--" she agreed quickly with the others, "lets get as far from here as we can!"<br/><br/>Tera was not interested in deliberating the matter, instead she began to walk immediately in the direction of the higher ground that would take them farther away from this stench.  The possibility of going down the drain didn't even enter her mind, though she could have simply flown down the hole to investigate further if she wanted.  She walked on with a spear in one hand, using it much like a walking stick, the hood of her short, red cloak was up and over her white hair.  Her skirt was just as short, if not shorter, than many of the others--a fact that had teased a great many others in her life.  The white stockings she wore really did little to offer any form of modesty, if anything it simply highlighted the chocolatey skin of her upper thighs that was visible just below the hem of the dark purple skirt.