<strong>Name:</strong>Octavia Lavinia<br/><strong>Match No:</strong>1<br/><strong>HP:</strong>31<br/><strong>Current armor:</strong>0<br/><br/><strong>Stunts in play:</strong>None<br/><strong>Flaws in play:</strong>None<br/><strong>Directing damage at:</strong>Mark V damaged arm<br/><strong>Damage roll:</strong>At 2019-12-09 16:41:14, Octavia Lavinia (uid: 58954) rolls: 2d6k-1 Result: 2 (https://elliquiy.com/forums/dicebot.php?r=142042)<br/><hr/><br/>Octavia yelped loudly in surprise as the cold steel slapped against her face, gasping and panting in rage at the thought of the mechanized responses talking back to her. She was squirming and looking for a way out when one of the arms changed form, two pincers gripping the hem of her shirt, which she had been trying so desperately to hold in place.<br/><br/>The vile think pulled the fabric down and out of her hands and she could feel cold air rushing in to grace the bare skin it left behind. Thankfully, thankfully her dress shirt was longer than her traditional garb and began to bunch. It covered her face and she spat from side to side, trying to get a view, but her breasts were not entirely exposed. The underside of them, though, she could feel exposed to the crowd. She did her best to control her squirming, but she could feel them sway heavily, shamefully for all to see, teasing a further view if the thing were allowed one more tug. That tug would reveal not only her full breasts, but likely her blood red face.<br/><br/>Giving up on holding her shirt down, she held her pistol in two hands. A better aim, but she couldn't see her target well. She was basing it all on her instincts, aiming for the last place she thought the damaged arm had been, and she fired.