"Maeve's Tits..." Naethra muttered, raising up herfocus and spear.
(Initiative = 14)
Naethra stood at just about five and a half feet, a cascade of leaves and vines falling just behind her shoulders in lieu of actual hair. Her face was much unchanged, with soft, demure features and prominent, bright eyes. Of course, now it was the green of fresh spring growth. She wore a battered leather cuirass and pair of greaves, each baring the scars of use and recent, haphazard, alterations. The leather was split, stretched over her vitals, and connected by straps and thread to the rear pieces. Even then it fit poorly over her prominent bosom and round posterior, both of which were rather noticable for a woman her size, if not as extreme as some of her other companions. She held a crystal focus in her left hand, fastened to a silver bracelet by a pair of matching, delicate chains, and hefted a worn infantry spear in her other, plain and worn save for its pearly veins. A perceptive wizard mighty notice an utter absense of finger nails and teeth, or hard edges about her anatomy at all.
(HP: 15 / 17)