Zandex chants an old song to himself as he pounds away at a white hot slab of pure steel. It had taken him quite a while to coax the metal out of the ore block, but his life was one of patience. His father had taught him that. [i]Nothing good comes from a rushed product.[/i] It was his father that he thought of as he worked his craft. He lifts the twisted lump of metal from the anvil, placing it back in the forge to reheat as he works on coaxing out the last impurities. He looks at the metalwork, and reshapes the edge. [i]Too crooked.[/i] He lifts the white hot creation in his bare hand, running his finger across it as he looks for the tiny fracture he felt earlier. [i]There you are.[/i] He pushes the metal back together, welding it with the magic running in his veins, fixing the minuscule crack.