Moru Sen, human conjurer
As the cleric downs the last of the brownies, a furious chittering commences. A weasel makes its way out of the thin, disheveled constable's backpack near the back of the group, and darts forward. Surprised, the constables scrambles after him, chittering himself.
He scoops up the weasel and dumps him fairly unceremoniously back into the backpack with one last squeak, then turns, slightly embarrassed, to the newcomer.
"Don't listen to a thing Retbi says," he says, indicating his now-stowed familiar. "He's allergic to chocolate, anyway, so he just would have muddied up our link trying to taste it vicariously through me, which always gives me a mild headache. You've saved me that.
"I'm Moru, by the way." he finishes, offering his hand.