<div class="floatleft">(http://www.infinitelibraries.com/images/Elli/Destined.jpg)</div><strong>Arlais</strong><em>Aasimar Oracle 2</em><br/>Character Sheet (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=227109.msg11145870#msg11145870)<br/>HP:19/19  AC: 16,<span class="bbc_u"><em>touch</em></span>: 12,<span class="bbc_u"><em>flatfooted</em></span>: 14 (+4 armor, +2 Dex)<br/><strong>Fort</strong>:+2<strong>Ref</strong>:+2<strong>Will</strong>:+3<strong>Init</strong>: +2<br/><strong>Active Effects</strong>:<br/><br/><br/><br/><hr/><br/>Arlais shakes herself out of her horror-fueled fugue at the sound of a pained scream. Another, draconic in origin, still rings loud in her ears, but she shakes her head, coughing and wiping her face. All that really accomplishes is to smear dirt and tears together, but she tries anyway. "We can't stay here." She mutters, between coughs. "We can't .."<br/><br/>It's the pain in that cry that gets her on her feet, scanning the room. Light, or lack thereof isn't a barrier to her, it never has been. But the wet puddle near the elf, the stickiness of his clothing, tells her she has work to do, nevermind how frightened she is. Habit and long practice take the edge of fear from her voice as she moves over to the elf, kneeling beside him to gently assess the extent of his injuries. "Easy. Settle down - relax, if you can." The gentle, firm tone is habit, but intended to be soothing, nevertheless. She looks over her shoulder towards the boulder M'iaq is trying to lift, lips pressed together. This isn't good ...<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Crunch</div><div class="spoiler_body">At 2015-04-24 09:59:59, Sylverthorne (uid: 19) rolls: 1d20m+5 Result: 10 (https://elliquiy.com/forums/dicebot.php?r=74832)<br/>Heal check, to assess the damage. Ugh.<br/></div></div>