Six gruesome blades forged from dwarven blood in the pits of ancient bol-Pakash. Six knives the dwarves wish never existed.
Maddoc sat amid a pile of unrecognizable corpses. Men, Dwarves, Orcs, you couldn't tell. He periodically took a stab at one with his new knife and screamed, "STOP LAUGHING AT ME!"
An otherwise simple spear, the dread blade of Hatred brings rot and decay to all it strikes, be it armour, body, or soul.
A dark dagger of song, forged for vengance. It shall have that vengance.
A dagger that makes the user think that he is invisible.
"Yn these landes, theye do ryde upone greate flowtinge beastes alike as those thate ye fyshermen do calle nawtilus; Ande these beastes, callede 'pyky-pyky' because of ye noises thate the beastes make, are troubelsome ande beastlye mountes, withe fowle temperes." -Telliamed ap Ynris, "Ye Westerne Landes".
(A levitating giant nautilus that makes a noise like "piki-piki" and is thus called a Great Piki-piki.)