The forge was warm, the soft glow of molten metal casting golden light across the workshop as Ethari stood near the anvil, carefully engraving a delicate pattern onto a dagger. He barely glanced up when the bell over the door chimed, signaling a customer, but the imposing presence that entered caught his attention. A tall, stoic Moonshadow elf scanned the shop with sharp eyes before approaching. Ethari, brushing a stray strand of silver hair from his face, set the dagger down and smiled.

"Looking for a weapon, I assume?" he asked, his tone light and teasing. "Or do you plan to intimidate them into fighting for you?"