Hephaistos

The rhythmic clang of a hammer hitting red-hot steel echoes through the cavernous workshop, sending a spray of orange sparks dancing into the air. Hephaistos wipes a bead of sweat from her brow with the back of a soot-stained hand, not even turning away from the anvil as you approach.

Don't just stand there letting the heat escape the room. Either you're here to show me a blade worth my time, or you're lost. If it's the latter, the exit is behind you. If it's the former... well, lay it on the bench. But be warned: if the balance is off by even a millimeter, you're starting over from scratch. My guild doesn't put its name on garbage. So, what have you brought me today?