Gloves of the Flame Sculptor of the Cavalier

Gloves of the Flame Sculptor of the Cavalier fit snugly over the knuckles, their leather a weathered umber that shimmers with a heat-hazed sheen. Stitched along the back are sigils of a long-forgotten furnace, runic lines glowing a soft copper when the air grows charged. The fingertips are padded with scales of ember-tan steel, not quite metal, not quite leather, giving a bite to the touch and a whisper of warmth even at rest. They feel heavy with memory, as if the hands wearing them could recall every iron-sharp gust from a hundred forges. These gloves tell a story while they shield. They were forged by a wandering Flame Sculptor who tempered metal with dragonfire and tempered oath with fear, given to a Cavalier who rode between caravan fires and the cold night watch, keeping peace in lands where warm hearts faced cold blades. When worn, the gloves braid flame into your movements—your strikes shed a tiny ember that lingers and licks at foes, your blocks sparkle with heat that wards off frost spirits, and your sprint leaves a curling wake of warmth that dulls the chill in the air. In the field, their power isn’t merely flashy; it is practical magic, a quiet promise that heat can illuminate a path through the darkest alley or the deepest ruin. The sigils thrum with each parry, turning momentum into a quiet, persistent heat that seeps into your allies as a shared courage. Beyond the dungeon gate, their value blossoms in markets and legends. The gloves are not only a weapon but a passport; in the right hands they unlock a path through ember-haunted ruins where heat is both weapon and language. The Cavalier’s badge on the cuff, a crest of intertwined tongues of flame, is a map in itself, guiding a wearer toward contracts that favor the bold and the patient. And in the world’s long conversations, the gloves become a kind of memory keeper—every wearer leaves a trace, every raid adds a new heat signature to the legend. I learned this the night I followed a caravan into the little bazaar that breaks between a river bend and a cliffside kiln. A stall glowed with the ruby light of clay lamps, and a merchant hummed a tune as he set the Gloves of the Flame Sculptor of the Cavalier on the wooden counter. A whispered price drifted through the air, spoken in coins and in the language of reputation. The Saddlebag Exchange—that caravan’s market hub where traders weigh risk with musk-scented breath and a dozen stories—was the pulse of the moment. The vendor’s eyes gleamed as he described terms: a price anchored in gold, but flexible for those who could offer a tale from the field or a favor owed. The gloves would be mine only if I carried both the coin and the memory of a successful dawn raid, a bargain that tasted of singed wool and smoke. Holding them afterward, I felt the world tilt toward a gentler flame, where power is not merely owned but earned—by walking into heat, speaking to it, and letting the Cavalier’s flame sculpt the shape of your next step.

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Average Price

146.593

Total Value

146.95

Total Sold

1

Sell Price Avg

146.593

Sell Orders Sold

1

Sell Value

146.95

Buy Price Avg

92.4789

Buy Orders Sold

0

Buy Value

0.00

Gloves of the Flame Sculptor of the Cavalier : Sell Orders

Price
Quantity
276.98991
269.991
269.97991
239.98991
234.04061
234.03051
234.02042
234.01041
234.00031
234.00011
233.99011
230.991
229.97691
218.94111
218.92111
218.001
217.001
215.001
209.001
199.981
199.96991
180.99991
162.98991
162.95961
162.95951
149.001
148.97991
147.991
147.98991
147.9791
147.001
146.991
146.951

Gloves of the Flame Sculptor of the Cavalier : Buy Orders

Price
Quantity
92.47941
92.47931
92.47921
92.47871
92.47612
91.45451
91.4081
90.28091
90.25511
90.09681
88.11141
39.01231
35.0121
27.47361
1.06345
1.06331
1.02031
1.003
0.17225
0.17191
0.17181
0.17021
0.17011
0.16991
0.15911
0.1591
0.111
0.105
0.051
0.0382
0.0341
0.03131
0.033
0.02813