The Hungry Weapon

Turai wandered the shelves of the weapon shop, his hands skimming over the cold steel, his eyes narrowing as he examined sword after sword. There were fine blades here, expertly crafted and polished to a gleam. Yet, none seemed to speak to him, none resonated with the energy he sought.

After what felt like an eternity of searching, he turned to Gareth, a puzzled look on his face. "I can't find anything," he said, his voice low, almost disappointed.

Gareth, leaning casually against the counter, shrugged. "It happens," he said, turning to the shop owner. "You mind if he takes a look at the inner chamber?"

The shopkeeper, a hunched figure with deep lines etched into his face from years of forging and selling weapons, chuckled softly. "Ah, the inner chamber... Not many get to see what's in there," he said, shaking his head with a bemused expression. "But if you're asking for it..." He slowly walked toward the door at the back of the shop.