<div class="floatleft">(https://78.media.tumblr.com/64c227f94e9c218cee82e3f3bfa5d6f0/tumblr_oxc20bY0Wh1utyn51o1_1280.png)</div><strong>Melody Silkbush, Halfling extraordinaire</strong><br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Atsila, Perrem<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Off her Donkey, about to scout.<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Stats</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>Initiative:</strong> +12 | <strong>BAB:</strong> +3 | <strong>CMB:</strong> +1<br/><strong>HP:</strong> 55 | <strong>AC:</strong> 21 | <strong>CMD:</strong> 17<br/><strong>Fort:</strong> +5 | <strong>Ref:</strong> +12 | <strong>Will:</strong> +5</div></div><br/><hr/><br/>Melody had learned a few things in the trek; first, and probably most importantly, the man in charge did not like gambling in his train. That hadn't stopped her from teaching the other porters and handlers a few new card games, fresh from Absalom - using pebbles as the pot, of course, just to avoid trouble. Second was that there was a lot of things to do as part of the caravan; she wasn't a professional at anything, but she was nearly always able to lend a hand... except for handling the camels, those obnoxious beasts had little tolerance for their actual handlers, much less a snack-sized halfling getting in their way. That and anything heafy or too unweildy for a three-foot-four woman.<br/><br/>The third thing she had learned was that she hated sand. Art least the fine, rough grit that was always in the air here in katapesh. The sashes and scarves she had bound aroudn herself worked to keep a lot of it out, along with the sun, but not enough to ever truly be comfortable. And it always worked its way to some very unpleasant places. That last sandstorm had been a nightmare... and this one looming over them in its red and black nightmare awesomess, was not something she really wanted to deal with.<br/><br/><strong>"I'll help, too."</strong>she called to the scouts as they began fanning out to secure the rocks. She clambered off her donkey - camels didn't come in her size, after all - and padded on quick feet that seemed too light to mark the sand. She looked up at Atsila and Pallam, coal-hued brows furrowing at the knight.<strong>"I still have no idea how you wear that armor out here, Sir Rem."</strong>As the dust began drifting in, she wrapped a gauzy bit of fabric around her lower face and nose.<strong>"I'll take point,"</strong>she noted, voice muffled by the fabric as she does just that.