Worst Possible Place

⟬ Twenty-three minutes later... ⟭

"Oy!" A surly dwarf shouted, "If yer tryin' to cut in line, boy, then you got--"

Tycondrius dragged the Sword of Venom behind him, allowing its caustic enchantment to leave a sizzling trail in the road. 

"--tta do what'cha gotta do." The dwarf bowed, "Go right on ahead, Sir~"

"My thanks, Master Dwarf," Tycon responded in a monotone voice. 

Walking past the reasonable gentledwarf, he entered the double doors of the Moonwell Workshop. 

"God of Thunder, Sky, and Storm!" He shouted, "God of Raging Torrents and the Crash of Hateful Waves!! I SUMMON THEE!!"

Tycon lowered his voice to a feral growl, "He who walks in the shadow of the moon... with blades kissed by her silver light... to me. Now."

The roar of thunder shook the two-story building, sending various artisans ducking for cover in a panic.