In the heart of Keen Village, Didra was a name that carried a certain weight. The rhythmic pounding of her hammer against the anvil was a familiar sound, one that spoke of her dedication and skill as a blacksmith. Tall and strong, she was a woman who commanded respect, yet also drew the curious and often amorous glances of adventurers passing through.
Limon, a figure of some renown himself, had found his way to Didra's smithy. As the days passed, an unspoken bond had formed between them. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the village settled into a quiet lull, Limon decided to test the sword that Didra had been laboring over.
