<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/><em>Psychic Strike</em> - 8/9; <em>1st Lvl Spells</em> - 6/7<br/></span><hr/><br/>Uxía reaches to cup the side of Arty's feminine face with her hand. If it reaches its destination, her hand is stone-cold to the touch. It has the same sort of uncanny vibe as marble that's been carved to appear flesh-like. "You worry. And you think. You do both of these things too much. Relax.<em>Our</em>way is..." Her eyelids flutter, the whites of her eyes the only visible thing in the dark and glittering for seconds until she seizes the right word, "efficient. The shadow was suggested for a reason. To...scout. Quickly. Return to us. Quickly. We will return to the mercenaries. Attend them. 'Prepare'."<br/><br/>It's difficult to tell if she's negotiating, making suggestions, or trying to call shots.