Of hunters and whores. A tale of two demons.

The two demons sat in Twilight's library as she stared at the strange obsidian heart, completely baffled as to what it was.
"And you two said you found this thing on a monster in the woods?" Twilight asked suspiciously.
"I don't believe I stuttered, pony. Just tell us what it is and how much it's worth so Lerisha can stop pestering me." Skri'jal replied grumpily. Twilight turned to the artifact in question, then to the demons.
"Well, it certainly is rare, but I don't know anypony who'd buy it..." Said Twilight nervously.
"Why not? You just said that it was rare, so shouldn't that mean valuable, too?" Asked Lerisha dejectedly.
"Rare doesn't mean valuable, Lerisha. Funnel-Web spiders are rare, but no one would pay money for one unless they wanted to die." Retorted Skri'jal. Lerisha huffed, giving a disappointed look at Twilight and Skri'jal.
"However..." Began Twilight, causing Lerisha to shoot upright, looking quite hopeful.
"Dark Hearts like this one do make powerful reagents. If you were to find a good enough smith, you could make a pretty powerful enchanted weapon with it." Twilight finished, and Skri'jal smiled.
"A better weapon, huh? I like the sound of that." He said.
"Yes, A great smithy would do, but the only one I know who could forge such a weapon lives in Canterlot Castle." Twilight replied. Lerisha, however, looked quite content with this. Then she thanked Twilight, and the two demons left to find the smithy.
When they reached canterlot, They were halted by two guards.
"Sorry, none are allowed in the smithy." One said.
"Why not?" Asked Skri'jal.
"Because, he-" The guard was interrupted by a grizzled, old stallion, wearing an apron.
"Ah, let 'em in. It's not like I'm doing anything." Said the pony.
"Eh, yes sir!" Said the guards, and they stepped to the side, admitting entrance to the smithy. The two demons walked into the forge, and found it to be incredibly hot. Big surprise. Lerisha, however, was having none of it.
"Ugh, It's too hot." She whined.
"It's a smithy, Lerisha. What'd you expect, air conditioning and cold martinis?" Sighed Skri'jal, who was unaffected by the heat.
"She's got a point, lad. This here's the hottest forge in the land, where the best armor and weapons are made. In fact, I'm surprised you aren't sweating storm clouds yourself, lad. You used to the heat?" The Blacksmith inquired.
"I suppose. Everyone says hell is a fiery pit, and I'm living proof of that." Skri'jal explained.
"I see, I'll have ta give this "Hell" place a visit sometime. Now, what can an old Blacksmith do for ya?" Asked the Blacksmith.
"We need an enchanted weapon." Said Skri'jal simply.
"That's an order I haven't gotten in a good while..." The Blacksmith said ponderously, rubbing his bearded chin.
"Alright, lad, where's your reagent?" The blacksmith asked finally.
"Yes, it's with... LERISHA!!! Put your top back on!" Cried Skri'jal, as he attempted to avert his eyes. Indeed, Lerisha propped herself against a wall, her top in her hand, and her great, heaving, bare breasts shining with sweat from the heat of the forge.
"But it's hoooooooooooot..." Whined Lerisha.
"I don't care! Have some decency, you damned she-beast! Now give me the heart!" Cried Skri'jal.
"Fine..." Moaned Lerisha as she tossed the obsidian heart to the irate devil.
"Here." Said Skri'jal grumpily.
"Eh? A Dark Heart? Where'd you get such a dark artifact?" Asked the blacksmith.
"Found it. Can you make something or not?" Demanded Skri'jal.
"Well... Yes. But do you have the money for it?" Asked the blacksmith. Skri'jal tossed him a large bag of coins.
"Will that cover it?" He asked. The blacksmith looked at the bag, then nodded.
"Yes, this will do. Now, any particular weapon or armor in mind?" The blacksmith asked.
"Warhammer. make it as evil-looking as possible." Skri'jal replied.
Three hours later, the smith returned.
"It is done. Careful with it, lots of pointy bits." The smith said.
"Perfect." Skri'jal replied, grinning. As they walked out of the forge, Skri'jal looked over to the still-topless Lerisha.
"Lerisha, put your top on, we're out of the forge." He demanded. Lerisha crossed her arms defiantly, not covering her heaving breasts.
"No." She said simply, like a little kid defying her father.
"Lerisha, don't make me use this thing." Skri'jal threatened, holding up the giant, spiky, deadly-looking war hammer.
"I'll put my top on, Skri-wee... But I want the hammer." Lerisha said sternly.
"What? Why?" Asked Skri'jal.
"Because, you have ten knives, four swords, two bows, two crossbows, three different guns, and a glave. I want a weapon!" Pouted Lerisha, bouncing her jugs as she stomped the ground.
"Fine, fine, just take it and stop bouncing, er, stomping!" Cried Skri'jal, handing the hammer to Lerisha. She found it amazingly light, despite it's size, and swung it as a test. She accidentally hit a statue, and the hammer shattered it in a single blow.
"Woah. Me gusta." Said Lerisha as she put her top back on.
"Great, a weapon fit for an Archdemon... And Lerisha gets it. What a fucking waste." Mumbled Skri'jal.
"Oh, cheer up, Skri-wee. You still have two bows and a glave!" Said Lerisha.
"I only have one bow..." Whined Skri'jal.