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.