<div class="floatleft">(https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/30738236/Arpee/Elliquiy/samedibust.jpg)</div><strong>Samedi Métayer</strong>(http://plothook.net/RPG/profiler/view.php?id=13577)<br/><strong>HP: </strong>10/19<strong>AC:</strong>15<strong>Touch: </strong>12<strong>Flat:</strong>13<strong>Rage: </strong>10/10<br/><br/><hr/><br/>She didn't like his tone. Not one bit. It was the same she had heard quite a bit in her early life, but no longer needed to be used as she grew older and her mother more compliant. Samedi would have to do everything in her power to not simply tear this fool's cock off once he'd placed it between her jaws, she was fairly sure she'd be able to do it too if she welled up the rage within her as she sometimes did in combat. The thought of this streak of piss writhing on the ground with blood pouring from his nethers was enough to bring a smirk to her face as she took off her helmet, freeing her flaxen locks from its weight and tossing it to one side, doing the same with her bear skin... it simply wouldn't do to have it stained if he was as messy and abundant as the men in her tribe. Her weapon was something she'd rather not part with given the situation, so she set it down, just within her reach.<br/><br/>"So, get to it then. I don't have all night," she said.