The puck’s fine linen sleeves were casually rolled up and sweat dripped down his face in rivers, but his expression was fierce and focused as he swung the hammer and pounded the metal. He created and forged each initial piece, and when finished, he would pass it to my husband, who would start bending and layering intricate details into the metal until the puck was satisfied. While they worked, I could see their magic coalescing in the air, green from my husband and a sparkly golden aura I assume came from the puck. When they finished, they presented the three beautiful daggers they had crafted
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