Berserker's Tempered Scale Gauntlets

Berserker's Tempered Scale Gauntlets rest on the rough oak of a trader's stall, their plates a mosaic of tempered copper and ember-black scales that catch light like a brazier's heartbeat. The texture is a sting of grit and smooth leather, with knuckles rounded under hammered edges and a seam that runs along the forearm as if a small dragon had lent its spine to the work. Runic sigils coil around the outer plates, catching a glimmer when the sun hits just right; the inner lining is a whisper of furred hide, designed to cradle bruised wrists after a long march. They seem forged by a chorus of masters who learned to temper rage into steel, a legend that speaks of a berserker whose fury was steadied into something unbreakable. In the world, you can almost hear that legend when you strap them on. They grip the wearer with a promise: press forward, strike clean, and let the fury burn away the hesitation. On the battlefield they feel like a hinge between instinct and craft, turning a reckless charge into a measured, brutal tempo. The gauntlets boost ferocity and precision in equal measure, inviting the wearer to wade into the frontline and coax every heartbeat into a punch that lands with iron clarity. They are not mere armor but an instrument of tempo; winds of momentum curl around the wrists, and as the user lands a well-timed strike, a small ring of embers seems to rise from the plates, a reminder that rage, tempered by skill, can be a tool as precise as a surgeon’s scalpel in the heat of a skirmish. Stories travel with such gear, and this set is no exception. I’ve seen a caravan guard in the Dividing Wastes lift his hood, slide the gauntlets over, and the moment the guard posts his spear, the rhythm changes—your own heartbeat aligning with the pace of the battle and the pace of the road. They are popular with front-line warriors, walled-city skirmishers, and any stubborn soul who believes that a pounding pace can carve a path through a stubborn foe. The price, of course, wanders like a rumor until you meet it in the right market, and that’s where Saddlebag Exchange comes in: a seasoned dealer who keeps an eye on both supply and the stories tethered to each piece. When I asked about them in a sun-warped alley, the clerk of Saddlebag Exchange waved a leather tag bearing a price that reflected their scarcity and the craftsmanship poured into their temper, and I walked away thinking that a bargain here is never just a bargain; it’s a handshake with a legend. If you wear them, you are not merely protected; you become a point where legend and battle intersect, a line of fire that will either burn you clean or forge you anew—if you can keep your temper as well tempered as the scales that guard your wrists.