<div class="floatleft">(https://img08.deviantart.net/c1c5/i/2017/128/3/c/akatsuki_no_yona_by_anadia_chan-db8il2m.jpg)  </div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">Cricket (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=277747.msg13656136#msg13656136)</span><br/>Human Zen archer/qinggong monk (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=277747.msg13656136#msg13656136)<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Elven temple ruins<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Mahsati, Khait, Others<br/><strong>Active Effects</strong>: N/A<br/><strong>Initiative</strong>: +8<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Stats:</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>HP</strong>: 18 | 27 <strong>AC</strong>: 19 (<strong>T</strong>: 19, <strong>FF</strong>: 17) | <strong>CMD</strong>: 18<br/><strong>Speed</strong>: 40 | <strong>Perception Bonus</strong>: +12<br/><strong>Ki Pool</strong>: 8/8</div></div><hr/><br/>The last set of days had been exciting. The stilling of the storms, the coming of new life into the desert. Cricket had seen these things come to pass with a serene sense of curiosity that had not distracted her from lending her aid on the two raiding attempts her crew had undertaken. She'd taken her licks, when the fighting turned ugly, with the same sense of detached calm, showing frustration only when Denhala had hung about too close and disturbed her maintenance of her temple bow.<br/><br/>The monk knew that they had bitten off more than they could chew, with the mercenaries. She knew that her survival in the next set of days was not a guarantee. If she was betting on it, she'd not stake coin on her getting out of this. "Shame," she said, when she saw the dead-end of the temple and knew it was the place where they would make their last stand. And that was all she said about the situation. No blame. No recrimination. None of this, "If we'da done it the way I said we wouldn't be in this stew." Just a single word expressing disappointment with the outcome. Even when she ripped open her robes to make bandages and let Cardinal Pride inspect her wounds, she seemed no more upset about her predicament than to take a bite of stew only to find it too sour.<br/><br/>She did not disagree with the demoness when she gave her assessment of the situation. But she did offer an alternative. "Maybe. Maybe they're impatient and don't have the stomach for a seige. Maybe they don't know there's no way out the back. They'll have to send in scouts to see if we escaped. We push in, set an ambush, maybe we pick off one or two before the rest come in."<br/><br/>The monk took out a handful of arrows from the quiver at her hip, and placed them along the leather-wrapped handle of her bow. "Here's how we'll handle the bird," she said. "I hide. Wait for it to swoop in close. Then..." she demonstrated what happened<em>then</em>by plucking the bowstring, making it hum.