<div class="floatright">(http://i610.photobucket.com/albums/tt183/GhostwheelX/Misc/Capture_zpsf2lu6zbx.png)</div><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Dellim, Half-Elf Oracle</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>HP</strong> 43/43 / <strong>Init</strong> +5<br/><strong>AC</strong> 25 / <strong>Touch</strong> 12 / <strong>Flat-Footed</strong> 24 / <strong>CMD</strong> 16<br/><strong>Fort</strong> +5 / <strong>Ref</strong> +3 / <strong>Will</strong> +4<br/><strong>Perception</strong> +5 / <strong>Sense Motive</strong> -1<br/><hr/><strong>Spells:</strong><br/><strong>1st Level:</strong> 8/8<br/><strong>2nd Level:</strong> 4/4<br/></div></div><hr/>A soft giggle escapes Dellim's mouth, almost hysterical in nature, at the minotaur's words--though it might as well have been from facing the plane's influence. "Hopefully I won't be misplaced in that case," he represses another giggle at his own wit, and quickly schools himself to calm as the fight plays out. He wonders what bugbears and gnolls had in difference that made them fight here. Or did they even need a reason to do so? Regardless, it made no difference, as he had now clearly thrown his lot in with the party.<br/><br/>He nods to the others as they introduce themselves, eyes widening to spheres for a moment as he took in Desh's appearance. The open shirt revealing the thinnest of cloths between her bosom and the rest of the world took him off guard; at home, women had dressed with layers upon layers of clothing, each arrayed atop the other like a peacock's tail in dizzying colors that appealed to the eye and the senses. She wore nothing like that, her clothes dark and far more revealing than anything he was familiar with. Still, it wasn't up for him to decide what folk wore, especially on the planes. Who knows, where she came from, there might be no such thing as modesty, and people walked around naked, and for all he knew, she might be the picture of modesty and prudishness as far as clothes were concerned. He was unsure whether he liked the idea of a culture where people walked around naked, and repressed that line of thought quickly.<br/><br/>"Ermm...?" he glanced up as his name was called by Marcus, and his head bobbed once, then twice as he took in the minotaur's words. "I--I suppose that would probably be the safest course of action, wouldn't it? Yes..." he mused to himself, and called his magics to mind. If he had taken their stripe correctly, the big minotaur, Marcus, was a heavy-hitting bruiser of sorts, while the scandily-clad woman was some sort of mage that preferred to blast things out of the sky. "I suppose that leaves me to patch things up," he murmured to himself, absentmindedly taking an apple from his backpack and proceeding to munch on it as they advanced.