<div class="floatright">(https://i368.photobucket.com/albums/oo122/grizzly/Flint.jpg)</div><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 20pt;">Flint</span><br/><strong>AC</strong>: 17<strong> Touch</strong>: 12<strong>Flatfooted</strong>: 15<br/><strong>HP</strong>: 13<br/><strong>Saves</strong>:<strong>Fort</strong>+4<strong>Ref</strong>+2<strong>Will</strong>+5<br/><strong>Status</strong>:<br/><strong>Init</strong>:<br/><strong>Actions</strong>:<br/><hr/><br/>In the wake of Pursilla's entrance, Flint walking into the Tavern was a non-event and he was easily overlooked as eyes turned to the striking Elf.  There was little memorable about him.  His clothing and pack were weather worn and the large steel shield slung over one shoulder was scuffed and dented.  The only item that seemed to be of any value was the shiny scimitar hanging from his belt.  He wore no jewelry or possessed any sign of wealth.  The only oddity about him was the symbol of Sarenrae that was wrapped around the hilt of the scimitar that swung freely as he walked to the table.<br/><br/>"Pardon, friends."  He said, putting down his pack and shield as he hovered over a seat at the table.  "We know of each other from Gribbs caravan.  I hope that you do not mind if I join you, for we seem to be of similar fortunes this day."<br/><br/>Food and drink was provided by Talia, and Flint took a bite of bread before washing it down with some ale.  "Thank you for your hospitality, Talia.  You are most kind.  I am Flint, a simple, wandering follower of the Dawnflower."