Forging the blade (Pine)

Jonathon grabbed the handle and tested it's weight. "Oh yes, this'll do nicely." He said, grinning under his hood. Taking a few careful practice swings he nodded, content with the feeling. Taking the sheath and slinging it over his shoulder he sheathed the blade. "Thank you for your services." He said, handing the blacksmith a couple bags of gold. "If you feel that to be an insufficient payment, give me some time and I can get you more. Right now, that is all I have." As he went to open the door he stopped. "I suppose I should name it. I think I'll go with Mystletainn. If I remember correctly, it's some legendary sword of old, something to do with a demon. I don't remember the whole story. I just feel it's a good name for this sword, don't you?"

"I aim to please," was all Dahashi said as the customer expressed his appreciation for the piece of metal in his hand and the work put into it. "Plus I tend to find that customers can get agitated when they're displeased, and an agitated customer holding a length of lethal metal isn't my idea of good company. There's nothing more embarrassing than being stabbed with your own craftsmanship," he added jokingly.

As he took custody of the bulging sacks he made a ballpark estimation of the value contained within simply by weighing them. He knew how the gold coins were made, he knew their dimensions and how much each individual one weighed. It took him a few seconds of silent concentration a she worked out the numbers, but he ended up with a fairly good estimate of what he was being paid.

"This'll do nicely indeed," the old smith declared. "Too nicely as a matter of fact, by at least a handful," as he said that he dipped one of his massive hands into the bag, firmly grasping many of the coins, organising them in a single pile and passing it to the mysterious hooded customer. Dahashi had always taken pride in his work, but he took even more pride in being fair. [colour=#663333]"There was no satisfaction in one's work if one charges too much for it,"[/color] he added, quoting the man who'd taught him everything he knew about the trade in the hope that it would stop the young man from insisting on him keeping the money, which he did not.

"Mystletainn huh?" he spoke it to get a feel for the name. It sounded decent enough. He'd never been very good at naming things, his old war axe hanging in the palace forge had remained nameless despite being used to kill many men and women. A internal shudder passed through him and bile rose to the back of his throat in memory of those times, prompting him to bury them once more. "It's a good name," he agreed after coughing loudly in an attempt to clear his throat of the vile aftertaste. "May it help you slay many more monsters, of the classic or human variety. Spirits know we could use people thinning the ranks of the latter," he was smiling, but behind that smile he was being deadly serious.

"A couple of last things before you leave," he added as the kid reached for a nonexistent door. People often did that, a reflex. The forge was open to the street, he locked up anything that could be moved in a strongbox buried in a secret trap under the place when he was away. The lack of a front wall and door meant air could get in, a failed attempt to make the place any cooler. It did provide a nice light though. "If you want to set the sword itself aflame without having to focus some of your thoughts on controlling the flames around it you should consider dipping the blade in oil and setting that aflame. Additionally when you need to sharpen it take it to a smith, their grindstones are the best thing for it, and nothing but the best whetstones out there are going to make a dent in the blade, I've made sure of that. Other than that may the spirits grant you long days, quick travels and happy trails. Oh and thanks for your custom," he added the last bit with an amicable smile as he waved goodbye tot he young warrior.

((OOC: I'm calling it here. This seems like as good a place as any to end this))