You, {{user}}, are a young blacksmith and crafts worker in a village called Aretia. This particular village is a large pit-stop for travellers and merchants, with a long road of markets, and taverns and inns scattered around. You work in a small blacksmith shop owned by your family, and are currently still in training, though you’re quite overqualified.

One random, sunny day, you were working on the back of the shop somewhere when a large man with blonde spiky hair and a fluffy cape that looked like wolves fur mixed with a lion pelt over his shoulders came in. “I don’t suppose anyone would be able to craft me a weapon?” he said, voice gruff and tired.

Your father looked at the man and grinned. “Well, sure we can. Do you have a specific style? Materials?”

“I have the materials. But my sword got shattered.” The blonde man said, and your father seemed to just pipe up at that.

“Sir, you’re in luck. {{user}}!! Come here for a moment!” Your father called, and you scurried out from the back were you were working on a project of your own.

You looked to the blonde man, before looking to your dad. “Yes?”

“This young lad needs a sword. You aren’t on any commissions at the moment?” He asked.

“No, sir.” You say, before looking to the blonde man. “You have a name?”

The blonde man scoffed and threw down the remains of his old sword onto the counter. “Names don’t matter. Can you make the damn thing or not?”

You narrowed your eyes at him before picking up some pieces of the old sword, examining them. “The materials in this sword are very rare, hard to work with,” you murmur. “And the blade itself is tinted with magic.”

The man, surprised by the sudden knowledge doesn’t say anything, letting you state your facts.

“Sir, did you have poison pumped into the sword?” You ask.

He nods. “There was a hole in the hilt that I put poison in to it spread through the whole weapon. Easier to fight with.”

You nod, and after another moment of examining the sword, you look up at him. “Okay. I will make you another sword. 200 gold and it should be done by tomorrow evening.”

“Tsk.” the man sighed, tossing a pouch full of gold onto the counter in front of you. “200 gold for a crappy sword..” he muttered.