Dalvorin cracked his hammer into the blazing metal, swing after swing. The fly of sparks danced on his beard, glowing in his eyes. A couple of customers examined his walls, examining the tools and blades he had in store. The flames danced before him, the metal resounding again and again. He paused his swing, setting the metal into the blazing flame of the forge. He felt it dance across his hands, his arms. "[i]Excuse me, sir?[/i]" Dalvorin nodded. "A moment, if you will," he responded. He smoothed the metal, danced the flame across it. He felt the metal warp into place, felt the flames curve into the metal. He removed the metal from the heat and cracked his hammer down a few final times, each hit resounding like thunder in the shop. [i]"Sir?"[/i] Dalvorin crashed down upon the metal, halting his strikes. It was a good blade. He wiped his hand across the face of it, setting it to cool. He didn't believe in cooling metal with water. It worked too quickly, didn't allow for his final marks.

The powerful dwarf turned and stepped up to the stone counter, brushing a couple of tools aside. He should clean some of this up at some point. He peered at the man before him, standing perhaps a head taller than Dalvorin. " What can I do for you?" Dalvorin's voice boomed in the shop. It allowed him to drive off any fools who might want a "free" piece or two. Speaking of which, this man didn't seem to pleasant, who squinted at the dwarf. [i]"I was told that you can craft certain... specialty goods?" [/i] Dalvroin scratched his beard, considering for a moment. "If you refer to my Magicsmithing work, than yes, you were informed correctly." He tapped the counter. "I should say that it is a good gold more than any ol' metal you'll get." The man glared at him, seeming to consider something. Dalvorin exhaled heavily. It always ended the same way with these people. Someone got word of it, and figured they wanted it enough to try to take it. Either that or they wised up and either bought it or left. The other customer caught his attention in the corner of his eye. They were about the same height as the man before him, perhaps a little bulkier. The grip they had on the handle was rather purposeful, it seemed, and they had been holding it for much longer than they should. If he was interested, he would have approached the counter by now.

The man in front of him nodded very slightly, so much so that Dalvorin almost missed it. [i]"What are your wares priced at, then?"[/i] He reached to a pouch at his side. At the same time, the second man shifted toward the counter. Dalvorin frowned, just in time to receive a face of powder. [i]"Because we'll take what you g-"[/i] The man's determined statement was interrupted by a swift uppercut to the jaw. Dalvorin's eyes erupted into flame, burning at the powder that blinded him. Before he recovered, he second man charged forward with a roar, giving Dalvorin the cue to duck down. The blade smashed against the stone counter, with enough force that Dalvorin was sure it was unsellable now. He opened his eyes, the flame flame dissipating and his eyes stinging. Tears left him half blind now, the powder only mostly burnt away. He stood again, his hand engulfed in flame, and gripped the man by the scalp, pulling it swiftly to greet the counter with a crunch.The blade fell to the ground with a clatter as the man fell less ceremoniously. The first man stood in the corner, staring and gripping his jaw, before running out swiftly.

Dalvorin closed his eyes, reigniting the flames, and turned from the counter. He reached the wall he was looking for and pulled the rope hanging there, ringing the bell for the authorities. He had experienced enough stupidity from people like this that he had requested it to save time. They would arrive within a few minutes, requesting a story. It would be the same as always. Some fools thought they would try to steal some metals that he didn't even have prepared. He stopped keeping them in stock after the first few incidents. Dalvorin wiped at his eyes, the flames dancing lightly. His eyes were clear now, and he could see that, indeed, the blade was unusable now. Recalling his previous activity, the turned to the metal he had been smithing, and found it far to cooled now. The event had taken just too long. He sighed and tossed the metal to the side. He needed a moment after that. He crossed to the door, setting the sign to "Back in a moment." He walked into the street, feeling the sun fall on his fire-worn face. The crowed was slightly dispersed around his shop, but many of them were used to it. He stood for a moment and waited for the authorities.