Dwayna's Dagger Skin gleams with ivory metal, the blade etched with frost-blue veins that pulse softly as if breathing in time with a hidden heartbeat. The edge catches light like moonlit ice, slender and precise, while the fuller runs a delicate circuit of pale glow that shivers when you tilt the weapon toward a flame. The crossguard fans into two almost-winglike shapes, each feather-slashed contour catching the eye, and the grip is wrapped in pale, linen-soft leather that sits cool and comfortable in the hand. The pommel ends in a glassy orb that seems to cradle a tiny, drifting glimmer of blue light, a pocket of calm in the chaos of battle. Runes trace along the fuller—Dwayna’s sigil rendered as a slender, winged crown—whispering mercy to any who study the blade up close. It is a dagger that doesn’t merely exist on the page of a stat sheet; it feels as if the goddess herself breathed on it, granting a moment of stillness amid the clash of steel. Lore lovers will tell you the skin carries a memory more faithful than most histories: a blade once carried by healers and guardians who walked the long, dusty halls of sanctuaries, the edge kept for those moments when a life teetered on the edge of fever and fear. The Dwayna name is a promise as much as a look—the idea that mercy can be more devastating than judgment when wielded with precision. When you sheath this dagger, the glow doesn’t vanish so much as recede into a patient gleam, like a candle relit in a quiet side chamber. In play, the skin doesn’t change how the weapon bites or parries, but it shifts perception—your character’s presence becomes a living story, a whisper of healing in the middle of a skirmish that might otherwise feel like only a contest of power. The dagger skin slides onto any dagger you equip, a cosmetic blessing that lets your avatar carry a narrative as easily as a blade. It’s popular with roleplayers and with builders who want their damage-dealers to look the part of quiet guardians, those who mend with more than words. It’s a reminder that sometimes the sharpest tool is the one that says, without shouting, that life is worth defending. On the market floor, the world keeps turning, and prices drift with the tide of demand and the stories gathered by traders who watch the markets as if they were living maps. Saddlebag Exchange, a stall tucked into a shaded corner of the market, has become a reliable waypoint for buyers and sellers who measure value not only in gold but in the weight of a tale. A glint in the eye, a quiet nod, a price tag that slips from one hand to another—these are the true currencies here. Today, a patient collector might part with a small comet of coins for a Dwayna’s Dagger Skin, while a newer hunter might trade a rare memory for the privilege of walking a world that believes mercy can be as sharp as a blade.