Knight's Krait Ripper rests on the counter like a whisper made steel, a slender dagger whose obsidian blade drinks the torchlight and returns it with a cold, venomous gleam. The edge is impossibly fine, a hair’s width of promise that looks capable of turning a moment into a memory. Its grip is wrapped in dark-green scales, each scale a tiny shield catching glints from the room and murmuring of reefs and hidden coves. A serpent-head pommel crowns the hilt, eyes inlaid with pale stones, and the guard curves away as if in a half-smile, a fang-length away from the blade’s hungry truth. The whole thing feels alive in your grip, weighted not just with metal but with a history you can almost hear in the faint click of scales as you shift your stance. Lore threads through the blade like a coppery lure. They say the Knight's Krait Ripper was forged at the edge of a harbor where knightly discipline met the stealth of the sea ring, a weapon tempered by oaths and by the hush of a krait’s venomous lair. It was said to belong to a renowned rider of the Knightly Order who galloped along moonlit piers to tempt fate and barter mercy with danger. Some stories insist the blade carries a fragment of a trial-by-venom, a rite that turned a knight’s honor into something sharper—a blade that favors swift, precise strikes and punishes hesitation. When you hold it, you feel the weight of that oath, the obligation to cut cleanly and disappear into the night before any reputation can catch up with you. In gameplay, the Knight's Krait Ripper is prized not merely for its beauty but for its bite. It suits a tempo playstyle: quick, decisive stabs that stack conditions with clinical efficiency, songs of poison and bleed unfurling as you weave in and out of an opponent’s defenses. It’s the kind of weapon that rewards timing and position, letting you ride the edge of risk with every breath and every attack. For a class built around precision and control, the Ripper offers a satisfying sense of agency—an instrument for drawing a pursuer in, then slipping away before they can answer the debt you’ve racked up with a clever, venomous flourish. The nostalgia of its lore amplifies its utility: it feels like a relic that still has something to teach about how to walk the line between mercy and menace. Market whispers drift through the coils of the market lanes as vendors trade tales and tariffs. In a shaded stall, the vendor unfurls a parchment and glances at a ledger, noting not just the blade’s beauty but its provenance and purity. Saddlebag Exchange, he says with a low, knowing voice, is where collectors and crafters test the blade’s past against its present. Prices drift with the wind of demand and the weight of legends—rare enough to make hearts skip, often listed in gold ranges that reflect the blade’s stat-line and condition. A buyer with an eye for history might pay a touch more, while a hunter chasing speed and synergy with venom builds might chase a bargain. Either way, the Knight's Krait Ripper remains a story you can hold, a weapon that carries a city’s harbor glow and the silent oath of a knight who chose speed over mercy when the night demanded it.