Upon entering the offbeat gift shop as one of the last of the group, Jacob suspiciously eyed every item from the front to the back. [i]Looks normal enough to me...there's definitely something about this place though...and there it is.[/i] The elderly woman turned her attention to the group. He could feel her presence striking deep within his heart, and if he wasn't sure of the importance of the task at hand upon speaking to the ravens, he was now. His unsure sense of dread quickly transitioned into a feeling of astonishment, notably upon viewing these ordinary items morph seamlessly into mythical artifacts and weapons. He took this opportunity to observe the items given as well as their new owners. 

The burly european type seemed simple enough, a man with a high sense of pride and a demeaning view of all lesser beings notable in the way he seemingly looked down to the rest of them. He would certainly be an asset to the group, and he may even come off as smarter than he appears. The native girl, whom he rashly judged as having a primary trait of innocence, quickly changed his mind. Innocence may be the wrong word to describe her, [i]ambitious, traditional...[/i] those words rang closer to home. The dutchman was next, he was clean shaven, and gave off a direct posture. If he hadn't known any better, Jacob would've took him for a soldier. The mysterious shop owner approached him, next. Following in the actions of those before him, he placed the sack in her hand and watch a flimsy sword levitate towards her grasp. His eyes widening upon its transformation, from the part wooden, part antler carved hilt to the perfectly forged blade, he was in awe. Subtly taking it from her offering hands, he muttered a simple 'thank you...' before cleanly and slowly swiping it through the air.

Next in line was the fair-skinned Indian woman. Something seemed familiar about her to Jacob, she was certainly gorgeous in every sense of the word as he couldn't help but to eye every detail of her body. Still, he'd never seen her before, unable to pin down that faint feeling they might've been connected. The man after her appeared fresh out of college, with eyes as tired and droopy as his own, possibly for different reasons. He couldn't form much of an opinion on him, although obviously he must've had his uses to be apart of this group. Before he could form an opinion on the final member of the group, he witnessed the old woman stab both of his hands with a dagger, watching a gold coin fall out the left one. [i]Holy shit! This old lady doesn't fuck around...[/i] he immediately thought. [i]A fuckin' thief, he'd better not try a fast one on any of us because I already don't trust him.[/i] And with that, he took to eyeing the groups' artifacts with amazement, glancing often back to his sword like he'd just received a birthday gift. Upon being invited to ask the lady any questions, he awaited until it was his time to speak up so as to not cause any rude and inappropriate interruptions. 

"My uncle...he followed the Christian God, not the old nordic religion." He stated, holding up his silver cross necklace. "He died going a hundred and thirty miles down the freeway, still clinging to his motorcycle as they pried his mangled body off the hot asphalt. I carry a part of his ashes with me, and I would like to know what's become of his soul if that's possible..." He paused for only a second, "I would also wish to know if this sword bears a name, and if any previous owners contributed to it's history." He further inquired.