<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/3b/eb/b2/3bebb2528c155753815869678827c79e.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;">Name: Uxía (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=311048.msg15097024#msg15097024)<br/>Location: Caravan<br/>HP: 41<br/>AC: 17; T: 17; FF: 11; CMD: 15; CMB: +2; Base ATK: +3<br/>Fort: +4; Ref: +7; Will: +9<br/>Perception: +0; Initiative: +9<br/>STR: 8; DEX: 16, CON: 16; INT: 13; WIS: 16; CHA: 22<br/></span><br/><hr/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Initiative Roll</div><div class="spoiler_body">25 (https://elliquiy.com/forums/dicebot.php?r=140077)</div></div><br/><br/>It is true. Uxía did not like the food that was presented by the caravan. It was plain. Ordinary. Failed to excite the senses. During dinner, she brought up her complaint, stating wisely, "There are no recipes involving the use of semen... Yet." Somehow, this was related to the potato debacle from earlier on the trip, but when nobody seemed to connect the pieces--or perhaps they had and simply remained quiet--Uxía retired from the camp fire, announcing that she was tired, and that it was time for her to sleep. She did this as she did all other aspects of the journey thus far: nakedly. Admittedly, more so than before, because as she stood from the seating area she untied the knot of her skirt and dragged it behind.<br/><br/>The inside of her legs gleamed, notably slick in the flickering light of the campfire as she entered the tent.<br/><br/>As Rishi held guard, she slept as quietly and still as a corpse on the single matting provided: both arms either side on of her exposed body, receptive, and legs partially spread. In the dark, her eyes occasionally flick open, unseeing and blue, directed to the top of the tent. They eventually close on their own, not opening for good until people disturbed her, stumbling over their own articles in attempt to get outside. They said something about the Orcish woman. Enemies. West. Bothersome. Forgetting the skirt, she is the last to exit the tent, pale as the moon with dark, inky hair flowing down to her bared buttocks. A dagger has made its way to her hand.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"><em>(<strong>OOC:</strong> I actually really liked the way that Re Z L formats their pose, so I stole it!</em>)</span><br/><br/>