Honed Reinforced Scale Gauntlets of Strength catch the late afternoon light, sitting heavy on the market counter like a pledge of grit. Their plates are a mosaic of overlapping dragon scales, each edge etched with a fine band of brass that glints whenever the sun slides along the blade-rough steel. The knuckles are thickened, the ridges sharpened for an impact that bites into air as surely as it would bone, while the inside bears a softened leather lining, scented with rain, oil, and a lifetime of hands that learned to endure. The surface bears small scars—the kind of marks that tell stories without words—proof that these gauntlets have earned their name in more than one skirmish and street-side altercation. They carry a trace of lore, too, subtle as a whisper. Runs along the wrist glow faintly when you cradle them, as if the metal remembers the old tales of the Verdant Sentinel—a dragon whose scales were said to shield a harbor town during a height of storm and threat. A master smith, sworn to a long-forgotten guild, tempered those scales with oil and flame until they refused to bend, binding strength to the wearer as if the gauntlets themselves learned to grip the world anew. If the stories hold even a hint of truth, those who wore them learned to turn tremor into triumph, to hush a mutinous crowd with a single, decisive strike. In practical terms, these gauntlets are not merely armor but an amplifier. They push the wearer’s raw Power into every blow, increasing impact and helping blades carve through stubborn defenses. You can feel the difference when you chain a heavy jab into a rally of skills, as if the metal itself lends you its nerve endings. Veterans speak of them as a catalyst for bold decisions, a talisman that makes a risky frontline Charge feel almost inevitable. For a guardian or a berserker, they become a bridge between instinct and action, letting a cautious plan swing into a confident, crushing reality. Here on the quay, the question becomes value as much as victory. Saddlebag Exchange, that bustling little hub where merchants and memory mingle, is where such pieces find their price and their next chapter. A tag of two gold and fifty silver is attached to a strip of worn leather—an amount that makes the novice swallow and the veteran nod in quiet respect. The market hums with bargaining, with whispered legends about how many hands these gauntlets have warmed and whether the scales still sing when kissed by rain and steel. It’s enough to remind you that gear is more than metal; it’s a passport to a story you’ve not yet lived out loud. By night, the gauntlets have found a new owner, clasped around a captain’s wrists as lanterns wink on the water. The harbor breathes easier, and somewhere beyond the glow a dragon-scarred legend keeps its vow: strength, when honed, travels with you, from crowded stalls to open sea, turning risk into road and fate into a reachable, practiced fist.