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A stern powerful man with dark crimson hair walks amongst the desert storm and looks towards the sky in awe. There he sneakers to himself as he eyes the parrot flapping his straining wings to keep the building afloat. The sight of the building grows smaller as he attempts to beat the violent winds of the desert sand and uses his devil red aura to fly along the waves of the winds. He lands ontop the small shop and feeds the tired parrot a treat or two as he climbs down and kicks open one of the stain glassed windows.
"Be there an owner of this flying heap?" He looks amongst the shelves and skims through the various books as he spots a clump of red hair moving about wildly behind the counter.
"Heh, that mageling must've given you quite the scare, but rest assured, I'm not here with such motives." He dives his hand into the side pocket of his withered girdle and tosses him a bag of pure gold.
"My armor has become worn in my travels, and I would like it forged to be better suited for my harsh journies." He undoes his armor straps and heaves it onto the counter and pulls out an odd jet black stone, hard to stare at with blue tiger strips incircling it.
"See what you can do my good dwarf with this stone and my armor and you will be paid in full." He says grasping a handful of gold from his pouch.
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