<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/0a/StaciePost.jpg)</div><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">Stacie Anne Bloodglut</span></span><br/>Level 1 Human Barbierian (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1481525)</div><hr/><br/>Stacie was quite eager to hear word of her application - the writing of which she'd had help with, since she'd never been very quick with letters, or words, or numbers, for that matter.  Luckily, there were always clever young men hanging about eager to give her a ready hand whenever she needed a bit of the three r's done.  As a result, of course, AcInq had received a brilliantly written application of impeccable spelling, grammar and intelligent wordage on behalf of the barbarian girl.  Those smart young men were always eager to do their best for the busty, sweet-natured - if a bit dim - blonde girl.<br/><br/>Despite having been to the inn  multiple times - whenever she remembered over the months she'd been waiting - she very nearly lost her way and, consequently, arrived a bit later than the others.  She ducked as she entered, standing well above the majority of the men and women in town, let alone those in the bar that evening.  Dressed in little more than armored scraps of hide that molded tight over her large breasts and draped around her full hips to dangle at the fore and aft of her pelvis, she drew stares as the south draws a bird that feels the first hints of frost.<br/><br/>Oblivious to the spectacle she made of herself by simply existing, she padded across the room on bare feet, tossing the shining mass of her thick blonde mane back from her unaccountably pretty face.  She flashed a delighted smile at the sight of the gnome bard and the others who stood at his table.<br/><br/>"Hi!"  Her voice was a lilting, breezy, perky trill like some exotic bird, the accent of the Valley tribes - best known for their horses - evident in even that single, short word.  Her clear blue eyes move from the gnome to the other two women standing at the table, and then back to the bard, brow furrowing as she tries to follow what he's saying.  After a brief struggle trying to decipher 'fortuitous', she decided it was a fancy term for fruit and looked around.<br/><br/>"Well, I am hungry and kinda tired of rabbit and squirrel.  I think fortuitous would be yummy."<br/><br/>Her attention, limited as it was, returned to the gnome and she nibbled thoughtfully at her pouting bottom lip, certain that there were questions she<em>ought</em>to ask, but quite unsure what they might be.<br/><br/>"Uhm...are you going with us...wherever we're, like, going?"