Jack comes riding around from the back of the Inn on a saddled and bridled wolf hound. The massive dog is dripping with shaggy, brindled grey fur, and is easily a match in size for any war-trained pony. Jack, riding easy in the saddle, is bundled up in his worn and faded traveling cloak.
"No offense meant, Mr, Jakub," Jack greets the merchant and his wagon, "but I've got my own ride, if you don't mind."
Despite the appearance of a typically itinerant halfling, a keen eye will notice that, for such a small figure, Jack is practically armed to the teeth. A metal buckler with an odd sheen is strapped tightly to his forearm, and a faint tinkling betrays the prescence of a mail shirt beneath his home spun tunic. The thick wool cloak cannot quite conceal the slim scabbards of a deceptively lethal half-sized sword and dagger hung from his belt. To round out the arsenal, an almost toy-like hunting bow and a sheaf of arrows are tucked away with the bulging pack that is slung behind the saddle.
Vares-Re and Farid immediately recognize that the buckler has been crafted from fine mithral metal. They couldn't be certain without at least a look, but the hidden mail shirt sounds like it could be as well.
"Are we missing anyone?"