<div class="floatright">(https://imgur.com/D7Ukj2C.jpg)</div><strong>Name: </strong>Fugue Eventide (https://elliquiy.com/wiki/Delvers_Company_Characters#Fugue_Eventide)<br/><strong>Tagging: </strong>Party<br/><strong>Wearing: </strong>Chainmail Armor, semi-transparent panties, firm oak "backpack"<br/>HP: 23/23    XP: 0/8<br/><hr/><br/><em>Fugue, bending far forward to try and keep any of the rapidly cooling spunk coating her lips, chin, cheeks, and pretty much every square inch of skin in and around her mouth.  She spit, repeatedly, while shaking her head back and forth to try and clear her eyes and nose of the substance.<br/><br/>Breathing shallowly, trying not to choke on the cockjuice.  As she hears the phantom captain call upon the creatures to surrender, she rises to a kneel, grabbing the rags that passed for a vest around the croc-fighters otherwise near naked frame, wincing slightly since the creature hadn't even bothered to re-adjust its loincloth to cover itself, and used the garmet to wipe down her face, though nothing could solve the jism aftertaste lingering across her tastebuds.<br/><br/>Standing slowly to her feet, she slowly makes a pivot of the room.  She lets out a gasp as she sees Len getting ridden like a tavern wench that went all in at the strip poker table with a pair of three's.  She breathed, slowly, and then tossed a glare at the Croc before her, wiping her mouth for dramatic effect.<br/><br/>"Get him off his ruttin'-wench before I put me blade against 'is asshole and go explorin'."</em>