The one-armed dwarf<em>harrumph</em>s at the name, but motions for you to bring the blade over. When you lay the sword on top of the bar, he pulls out a pair of glasses so large and thick they make him look like he's imitating an owlbear, and leans over to read the inscription... and, for the first time in your memory, the dwarf laughs. It even sounds creaky and dusty, like the sound has been sitting on a shelf in a forgotten attic somewhere...<br/><br/>"Ayuh... I recognize that mark. It's a mark belongin' ta one o' Torag's Monks... and the handle says "Beauty is Function." Seems tha' ol' wizard has some o' his old sense a humor to him, biting as it may be... "<br/><br/>He lifts the weapon, handling it confidently even with only one arm. A few gentle test swings, and he tilts it to show you the brand on the bottom of the handle.<br/><br/>"Tha' rune there is unique, though. It means "Lava Flowing from The Heart o' the World." Though I guess a simpler wordin' might be "Eruption."<br/><br/>No sooner is the word out of his mouth than the blade actually seems to turn blacker, and cracks spread across the darkened surface... cracks which soon glow with a bright orange-red light, which spreads across the blade's edge until the whole weapon looks like it was forged from a lava flow. The whole process seems to take the dwarf by surprise, and he drops the blade to the floor... where the enchantment promptly fades, leaving the blade a hunk of pitted, scarred metal once again.