"I have no flesh that isn't untorn...", the voice is a whisper.

Avita went through the portal head-first and wound up landing badly on a floor of cold and stinking stone. And she's only slowly now pulling herself to her feet, her hands gripping each knee in turn as bones and joints crack.

She clicks her knees as she gets to her full height, and her head swivels to watch the progress of the portal. "Oh. We actually accomplished something. That's new". She puts a hand on her chest, the other on her hip, facing Sarim and Fion. "Gentlemen? If we have to cut ourselves out of here, rest assured I'll be right behind you" And she fires a blast of back energy into her chest.

[Self-healing for (1d8+1)[9]

"Or. Until we reckon what's approaching, we could at least try to hide."