Arriving in town took less time than we expected. The closest town was called Valdrum, after a knight named Sir Valdrum Kade, who fought a bewilder beast with only a broken hunting knife, so the story goes. It was bustling like always with players walking around doing all sorts of trades and crafts. Some shops were run by NPCs (non playable characters). Eventually though some players take a shop over for the NPC to "retire". At those points all responsibilities are passed to the player.
Walking up to the front of the smith store that sat between the front gate in town and the main bazaar. A wooden sign hangs over the door reading, "The Devil's Den". The building stands two stories tall from viewing it from the outside. Walking through the front door causes a small bell inside to chime our entry.
A head pops up over the main service counter. A mole's head pops up over the counter and sniffs the air. He speaks like a man in his late forties while squinting his eyes, regardless of how useless they are to him.
"Who's that out there?" He sniffs a few times then stands up a bit more, barely reaching the top of the counter. "I smell wolf mixed with brimstone. So you are back finally, aye Nathan? Took your sweet time." The aged mole speaks like old Scottish Man. He squints hard in our direction seeming to try and make us out.
Chuckling I sit my things upon the counter and lean against the counter. "Yea I just got back in Ol Timer. How's it been while I've been away?" Peeking over I see a drawer spilled all over the floor and loads of small tools about the place. "Did you lose your glasses again, Sebastian?"
He smiles lightly and his small black beaded eyes rest upon me. "I misplaced them again yes. And only a few youngsters like yourself came through a few days ago placing an order or two." He reaches down under the counter and lightly bumps his head when coming back up.
Kirisai chuckles under his breath as I smile and keep watching him. Sebastian had been an actual player who hides as an NPC. He never told me why he is doing it,but I figure he will tell me when it matters. He basically taught me all I know now in this game.
He places a box with a glass top so one could view the two dual wielding daggers inside. Kirisai's attention is grabbed at this moment and he walks to the counter joining us. We lean down a bit to obtain better understandings of the weapons. The craftsmanship of these blades are exquisite. The light engravings around the base of the hilt appear to be of a high race language. The metals used to forge the blades give off a mild magic vibe, signing that the owner not only knows magic, but knows it well. The hilt of the blades were of oak, but a particular kind. One that has a lot of its environment breathing off of each other's magic. Writing was filled in with silver and layered over in bronze. A braid of tree vine was laced into the handle, probably to ensure a more comforting grip.
I reach out to lift one and Sebastian slaps my hand away. "The owner is suppose to be coming today to pick them up. I refuse to have you boys get your sticking prints all over them. I finished polishing them early this morning."
We both look at one another then back at Sebastian. "Oh come on, we just want to know where it's origin is. The blades are sick."
"Aye that they are son but these blades are special I had to be careful myself when dealing with them." He closes the box and tucks them away.
Kirisai raises a brow and stands back up. "What kind of precautions?"
After stashing them away Sebastian removes his working gloves and reveals some heavy burn marks all over his hands. It looks as if someone took a metal rod and smacked his hands about. My eyes widen at the sight then remember the blades.
"Pure silver?" I ask as Kirisai places a hand on his chin. Sebastian nods and I walk around the counter.
"Whoever those belong to must either have high maintenance or hates werebeasts." Kirisai chimes in and pulls out one of his knives. His blade are steel based with a small line of silver along the center of the blade. He pulls out the sack of gems and hands then both to me.
"You boys would do best to stay away from people like this owner. They aren't to be trifled with." Sebastien's accent grows thicker as a yawn forms in his throat and he stretches. "Lad the owner will be coming in later today. When they do call for me. I'll handle the hand off you stay in the forge."
I have already begun walking off, with Kirisai's stuff in hand. "Yea yea, I hear ya Ol Timer."
"And stop calling me that!" He shouts back as I turn the corner entering the heated environment. “Oh,” he chimes in before embarking up the stairs. “Where's your other furry friend the one with the um..” He makes a gesture like he is holding two orbs in each hand. “The winning personality,” he finishes and I feel Kirisai facepalm.

“She is turning in a few quests. She won't be around for awhile.” I speak from around the corner staring at my station.

Sebastian tries to mutter under his breath but I catch it. “Pity for her. She's a gem to have around.” He makes his way up the stairs grumbling and Kirisai leaves after shouting he would be back later.
Changing into my smithing gear, decently fit smithy pants and nothing else. Walking back into the forge I walk over to a huge metal trunk in the corner. Inside lays a long wooden case with carvings of wolves running in all sorts of directions. Opening it lays an ebony sword with a slight marble like shine to it. It's hilt is made up of pure steel and iron. It looks like two serpents twisting upwards towards the guard. The guard was a like a old knights claymore but the length and style of the blade was more of a short sword. The Midnight Black, it was called, one of my most prized pieces I got while out adventuring. It was swift as the shadows in the night. The magic within the blade leaks off like a subtle mist. To most it appears like a normal magically enhanced blade. There was one thing that made it exotic in my eyes.
"Where the fuck have you been you hairy overgrown piss drinker?" A mildly high cracking pitched voice echos through the room and the sword lights up a bit. The voice always reminds me of a goblin. This bad baby could speak. How many swords do you know can do that? Originally, I was bound to the blade and it constantly pulled me, literally pulled me, into all sorts of danger. Midnight had a knack for getting a lot of it's past owners killed. It did try several times to get my life taken, from fighting a six foot draconian to defending a demon from a horde of angels. I eventually found a way to remove the magical bond from the blade, stopping its pull, but I branded it. So in case anything were to happen, all would know I wielded the cursed blade.
Setting him on the anvil Midnight pulses its magic waiting. "What's next you're going to do to me, you crazy bastard?" I place two thick solid bricks of ebony on each side of Midnight. If this blade had eyes they would be wide as ever and looking at the bricks as it spoke, "Oh fuck me."
"Oh, you got that right sweetness."