Jackal stopped spinning his dagger and looked up at Max. "I see," he said. "Well... didn't know we had something in common." He held out his dagger to for Max to see. "This is comprised partly of Stygian iron and mithril, and the blade is made out of a special mixure of mithril and steel that only I know how to create. The stone's main purpose is to keep the blade balanced. And when I made this, I mixed in a few drops of my own blood, to show that it was my own. It accidentally enchanted the blade so that it can never leave my possesion for any longer than five seconds, and only I can use it properly. In the hands of anyone else, it's just a hunk of metal. Even the most accomplished swordsman wouldn't be able to cut through a hot stick of butter with this, much less fight with it. But in my hands, it's like your blades... an extension of myself made of metal. Only in this case, it's almost much more so." He slipped the knife away. "I'm good with the other knives too... but frankly, I work best when I'm using a combination of any of my knives and my sword and my hands and feet and tail and energy pulses." He looked up at Serpington. "I should also mention this... those other knives used to belong to other men... evil men. But it's rather hard for a dead man to own anything postmortem." He sighed. "On second thought, maybe I am a bit hungry..."