Jacob nodded and started getting to work showing off his wares. He walks to a wall covered in various daggers and short blades, pulling down several. “This selection of daggers is light, perfectly balanced, and is darkened to hide any glint. I got the idea from them after a raid on some smugglers by the guard were almost foiled by the shine of the guards steel.” He grabs one of them and hurls it across the room, striking a very pockmarked target near the bull’s eye. “Each of them, for you, is 200 gold.”<br/><br/>He grabs another one, much more fluid and streamlined then the previous one. “This one is not darkened, I’d hate to see it smudged with dirt but do with it what you will.” He turns it around in his hand, examining it like he would his own child. The pommel was simple but it had small engravings etched in that looked like a gust of wind. “This one is special,” he says simply as he hurls it as well at the target. This one hit dead on the target. He turned his back to the target and held out his hand to the side. The dagger wobbled in the wood for a second before flying back end over end and almost gracefully placing itself back into his hand.<br/><br/>“Guaranteed to return to you after every throw and even improve your aim. 6000 gold.”  He walks to the back of his shop, returning with a map and a stick of charcoal in his hand. “This here,” he says, marking an X on the map, “is where we found the drow,” he says spitting on the floor. “Tracks lead up here towards the mountains,” he says with a long black line leading north. “They stop somewhere around here but we think they erased their tracks.” He circles a general area near the mountains where the tracks stopped. “All the bitch said about the entrance was that it was within the rocks and without the rocks whatever the hell that means.” He flipped over the map and wrote down “Chosen Lover of the Demon Spider”. “That is what apparently your queen’s name is. I don’t speak that flowery language of the elves nor whatever passes for speech they have down in the caves, but that is the closest we could translate it to. I don’t know how that will help you.”<br/><br/>A look of concern crosses his face. “I do know of a man who could help you with those saddles if he were still with us. The master leather worker of this town was taken in one of the raids. I do believe his apprentice can help you, his name is Hunter. The shop is on the edge of town, cannot stand the smell of it,” he says. “At best is they could modify a horse saddle but I’ve never heard of anyone riding a wee lizard before.”<br/>