Alex donned his smithing gear and set to his work, ignoring all offers of help and taking his time to give answers. This was a very important moment, and within him emotions spun and cloyed like many different currents clashing in a body of water. Focusing on the feelings of dedication and the rock of willpower mounted within him, he let other similar feelings gather like sands on the rock, slowly forming a dune. This sword would be his companion, but Alex knew deep down that his original sword was somewhere. A weapon of that craftsmanship doesn't just disappear, someone had it-or worse, something. As the mithril solidified and the fynx carefully hammered the hot metal and examined it with a critical eye he felt the spark in him, the connection with this new extension of himself and dipped it in the water. As the steam dissipated Alex looked over his sword admiringly. The blade was long and it dipped in the middle and then curved back up where the blade tapered to a tip that was obviously designed for piercing while the whole underside was a weapon of slashing and rending.
The fynx squinted and yawned a bit looking around. How long had he been working? It felt like hours, but it could have been a day or two had he lost himself in his perfectionist work as he often did.