The man gulped one more time, pushing down the urge to throw up the vile drink he just had. “My name a Michael. I come from a small town called Sirlev. We are a peaceful community of smiths and craftsman.” Michael wrings his hands, showing the calluses from long day’s worth of labor. “People have been going missing lately. At first we thought it was wild animals, but there were no tracks or blood that we could find. It wasn’t until a few days ago that we found out what it was. Drow.”<br/><br/>The man spit out that last word like a curse, his nervousness and queasiness from the drink momentarily forgotten out of pure hatred and loathing for the dark elves. “One of them had been left behind, Achilles tendon slashed and left for dead. We found her hiding in the underbrush, her hands clenching her eyes. We dragged her out in the sunlight as she screamed and screamed.” He vicious little smile crossed his face before he shook it off, returning to his story.<br/><br/>“She was a part of the a raiding crew in charge of bringing slaves, specifically craftsmen like us, back to their hell-pits. We…dragged information out of her in ways only smiths can. She told us a lot. She said a war was brewing and her Matron ordered the band of raiders to gather slaves. That night as they were retreating back into their hole in the ground, one of her compatriots slashed her ankles and left her.”<br/><br/>His eyes got hard as he leaned in close as he fought that swirling in his head. “My town may be small but we are not short on funds. We heard you were the bane of the Underdark…the so-called Blinking Shadow. We are willing to pay whatever it would take for you to find this house Matron and kill her. I don’t know if you will be able to bring our people back but if they are dead, I want their deaths to mean something.” His vision begins to swim as he was on the verge of unconsciousness.<br/>