[ WP ] You are the guy who makes all those magical/cursed items that people are always stumbling across .

`` Go on. Try it!'' 
 
 `` I do n't know, Eddie…'' Blake told him. 
 
 `` I *told* you, Blake. Stop calling me Eddie. That name is behind me now. From now on, call me by my cool Crafter name: Mephisto!'' 
 
 `` Uhm… okay, Mephisto. But, I still do n't know about this.'' 
 
 `` Oh, be a sport! It's just a magic sword. You're a fighter. I practically made this with you in mind!'' 
 
 `` Because you hate me?'' 
 
 `` What? No! Well, okay, it might actually be because I've only read the first part of chapter one in *Cavandil's Advanced Guide to Crafting* and a magic sword is all I know how to make yet. But when I finished it I thought about you right away. That still counts as an act of friendship, right?'' 
 
 `` Sure. Whatever you say. It's just that I, er, wanted to earn my first magic sword in a quest or something so…'' 
 
 `` Come on! Just pick it up! At least tell me how it feels. Did I get the balance right?'' 
 
 `` What does it do, anyway?'' 
 
 `` Do? It's a magic sword, dude.'' 
 
 `` I mean, does it burst into flames?'' Blake had visions of the sword lighting him up light a bonfire. 
 
 `` Uh, no. It's more basic than that.'' 
 
 `` Does the blade transform into a poisonous serpent?'' Blake pictured the sword turning on him and biting his arm. 
 
 `` How would that be'more basic'?'' 
 
 `` Does it make your arm instantly rot and fall off?'' 
 
 `` Why would anyone want a sword that does that?'' 
 
 `` It's just… well, you got the lowest marks in Crafting back in mage college, Eddie -- `` 
 
 `` Mephisto.'' 
 
 `` Mephisto. And you remember how Professor Cardinal was always ripping apart your essays saying you took too many shortcuts and made too many bad substitutions during the rituals?'' 
 
 `` Oh come on. That is not fair! That guy hated *everybody*. No one ever got more than a'D-' in his class. I'm telling you: you are overthinking this. It's just a magic sword. A really basic one.'' 
 
 `` Okay, but what does it *do*?'' 
 
 `` It's just a +2 magic sword. That's all! I swear!'' 
 
 Blake hesitantly reached for the hilt of the sword, then fought to control the nervous shaking in his hand as it hovered right on the verge of picking the thing up. 
 
 `` I promise, I did not take *any* shortcuts, and made *no* substitutions in the material components.'' 
 
 Blake's hand had already closed around the hilt by the time Eddie/Mephisto added, almost casually: `` Well, *almost* no substitutions. A mirror instead of a piece of stained glass. But it's really no big deal.'' 
 
 The sword shook, causing a vibration that ran up Blake's arm as a glowing golden aura of duplication spread from the sword to Blake and with a shudder, the cloud of light split, creating two duplicates of Blake standing on either side of him. Blake, Blake, and Blake looked at one another, then, simultaneously, in a three part harmony said, 
 
 `` Oh. *Plus two. * I get it. Actually, this is n't so bad. It's really kind of cool, I guess.'' 
 
 Then there was another shuddering and suddenly the three Blakes became nine. 
 
 `` OK,'' said nine simultaneous voices together. `` This is slightly more annoying.'' 
 
 But then the glow returned and nine became eighty-one. The room overflowed with Blakes, shoving one another outward, nearly tripping each other. One tumbled out the window when shoved by the sudden appearance of another. Two others were pushed unceremoniously through the waddle-and-daub walls of the hut. 
 
 `` Uh… quick! Drop the sword!'' Eddie/Mephisto suggested. 
 
 `` I CA N'T!'' came a deafening host of voices, now measured in the hundreds as Blakes went tumbling into the street outside and began pushing one another into the empty field next to the building. To demonstrate, several hundred Blakes opened the grip of their fingers and dangled the sword from their hands, showing that it remained attached as if by magnetism. 
 
 A blinding yellow haze enveloped the neighborhood as the population of Blakes continued to explode with each iteration. 
 
 `` Uh, hang in there! I can fix this?'' Eddie/Mephisto shouted over his shoulder as he gather up his precious book and what supplies he could salvage from the wreckage. `` It's just gon na take a little time and maybe a luck spell -- or two.'' 
 
 `` EDDIE!'' screamed a rampaging hoard of Blakes. 
 
 `` Or six,'' Eddie said as he dropped the supplies and fled the village with his spell book clutched tightly to his chest. 
 

