Shaman's Reinforced Scale Gauntlets of the Flock

Shaman's Reinforced Scale Gauntlets of the Flock clasp the wrist with a soft, creaking resonance, as if the leather itself exhales after a long flight. The plates are a mosaic of dark-green scales, each one etched with fine, feather-thin lines that catch light and scatter it into a thousand shy glints. They feel cool to the touch, then suddenly warm where the sun overheats the stone runes carved along the forearm. A seam of amber thread threads the edges, binding them with a quiet dignity, like rain stitching the horizon. The knuckles wear ridges that resemble the beak of a harrier, and the cuffs are wrapped in stitched hide that smells faintly of rain and distant fires. When you flex, the scales slide with the precision of a well-oiled mechanism, and the whole thing hums with a subtle kinship to wind. Lore loreps through the weight of these gauntlets as much as through their metal. They are said to have been forged in the shadow of the Flock, a lineage of avian shamans who believed that hands were conduits for the weather itself. The Flock would call upon gusts to carry messages between hidden camps and to guide their riders through fog-bound passes. The gauntlets, blessed or battered into being, became a symbol of that trust: scales hardened in storms, and feathered filaments pressed into the leather so the wearer could coax a breeze into a blade’s arc. Those who wore them learned to move with the air rather than against it, to cast quick, decisive blows that felt less like force and more like a calm that had learned to bite. In the world where these relics still pass through bustling camps and quiet caravans, the gauntlets are more than ornament. They tighten the bond between fist and fate, amplifying the Shaman’s connection to their totems and to the wind that follows from the wings of distant birds. A fighter who dons them finds that strikes land with a little more timing, a little more push behind them, as if the gauntlets whisper the tempo of the skies. They’re especially prized by those who weave totems into the rhythm of combat, because the reinforced scales can channel a fraction of the totem’s surge into a sharper, quicker melee rhythm. Used against armor or in the press of a skirmish, the gauntlets encourage a hunter’s instinct: strike, step, and let the air do the rest. Market chatter follows the item as surely as the wind follows a flock. In the shaded stalls of Saddlebag Exchange, a well-worn pair appears from time to time, its sale wrapped in the gossip of travelers and traders. The price shifts with mood and demand, a reflection of who believes the Flock’s weather is best worn on the arm. Bargain-seekers will haggle over the rune quality, the leather’s patina, and the pace at which the scales catch the sun. For a collector, the gauntlets are a memory of storms and stories, a tangible link to the endurance of shamans who trusted the wind with their names. In every exchange, in every quiet floorboard creak of that market, the Shaman’s Reinforced Scale Gauntlets of the Flock keep a promise: that a craftsman’s hand and a traveler’s courage can become one, and that the air itself can be worn as a shield.