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Phara: Good day, young lad/lass.
I can see that you've become quite the adventurer. When you get to be my age, you can tell these things, you know.
My darling son, may his soul rest in peace, was a warrior, and so was my grandson...until he decided to quit and become a doorman.
My son didn't teach him how to wield a sword so he could go waste his skill on being a doorman.
That boy just doesn't understand...
He didn't even take his father's sword with him.
Sure, it may be a little old and may need a few repairs.
I think that the handle requires some kind of special part...
I remember my son saying he had found a Sword grip material in a tent when he and some great Galka named Ragarimin, or something like that, went on an expedition to the Orcs' stronghold.
If you happen to stop by there on your way somewhere, picking some up would make me ever so grateful.
Phara: Well I'll be! You've brought me some Sword grip material!
I'll ask my sweetie in the Blacksmiths' Guild to fix it all up, good as new.
I'm sorry. I have no way to repay you now.
Could you please come back tomorrow?
Phara: Thanks to you, my son's sword is as good as it was the day it was forged.
I'm sorry to bother you any further, but could you take this to my grandson?
To get to where he's stationed, I hear you have to ride this newfangled elevatie contraption.
They say that doormen get decent pay, so you can get your reward from my grandson. I'm sure he won't mind.
His name? Oh, it's Naji.
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