<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/tF6BDmd.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Rarki (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2592247)<br/><br/><strong>Location:</strong>'Silver Fork' in Detmer,  Druma<br/><br/><strong>Hit Points/Current:</strong>14/14<strong>AC:</strong>15<br/><br/><strong>Notes:</strong><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spell SLots</div><div class="spoiler_body">(Lvl 1) 3/3</div></div><br/><hr/><br/>Rarki's bare feet pad across the dock as she arrives in the town, an oversized tunic swirling around her small form. Hands tug at the belt clinched tight around her waist and the straps of her pack before setting off into the town seeking the Silver fork. Much much wandering through the town and dodging the tall ones leads her to the tavern evidently one of the near last to show up. A few questions and she's heading towards the table of the meeting, a hand running through her dark hair and setting the feathers and beads tied in it to dancing. "Not that late am I?"<br/><br/>Her pack is set on the ground before she climbs up onto a chair and settles in, gaze flicking from person to person as she takes in the gathering group. Thuran's explanation of the mission and Yarila's  purpose has her frowning, a frown that grows at the fox eared one's questions. "Would the Society really drag this many people out to deal with bandits though?" Fingertips drum against the tabletop as she leans in slightly, the confused twist to her features almost hidden as her head barely raises above the table. "I don't know much but Mr Trek 's tales always made it sound like the Pathfinders dealt with other. Not bandits running amok."