Thrice-Blessed Gauntlets of the Kings

Type	Armour
Discovered By	Fenrigson
Discovery Date	9 March, 2011
Discovery Location	Crahandan, Atamara
Abilities	Prestige +2
Current Owner	(unknown)

It was a few hours after the sun sank below the horizon, Fenrigson hurriedly followed tracks left behind by the shambling army of undead he had been tracking since dawn. A trail of shattered bones and dismembered zombie corpses litter the country side, Fernigson takes a large gulp of ale to wash not only the dirt of the trail from his mouth, but the stench of the dead from his nose. He steels himself for the imminent battle and sallies forth.

In the wan moonlight, dark shapes float in and out of his peripheral vision, and eerie sounds emanate from the caverns ahead, shuffling, groaning, and the occasional growl. Fenrigson quickly draws a stone along the edge of his blade, the scores of skeletons he's dispatched have left their toll on his trusted longsword. Fenrigson inches closer to the opening of the cavern, the stench of death threatens to overwhelm him, but he strikes a torch anyways, and tosses it into the gaping maw of the cave.

The flickering torchlight illuminates the source of the cacophony, a myriad of minor abominations, all huddled around a hulking Draugr seated in front of a stone altar, gnawing languidly on the flesh of some poor peasant. "No skeletons at least," Fenrigson thinks, as he quickly strings his bow in the flickering torchlight. Silently placing his quiver in front of him, he begins to fire off a steady stream of arrows, scoring headshot after headshot on the shambling zombies attending the Draugr, exploding cranium after exploding cranium send the zombies tumbling back into whatever abyss they hailed from. He quickly runs out of arrows, and the few remaining zombies close towards him, pale cold flesh extended towards him, grasping for purchase, attempting to rend him limb for limb.

Fenrigson's longsword flies from it's scabbard, and a stinking disemboweled pile of death soon lays at his feet. The Draugr finishes his last bite, discards the peasant's remains, adding them to a pile of broken flesh in the corner of the cave. Fenrigson controls his urge to vomit and wishes he had his cousin's waraxe, the dreaded Draugr's Bane, yet there is no time for longing, as the Draugr rises. Fenrigson's breaths come in rapid, shallow succession. The beast steps onto the stone altar and lunges at Fenrigson, it's fangs dripping blood and gore, and on its outstretched arms, Fenrigson catches a shimmering reflection as the torchlight glints off of a pair of golden gauntlets.

The distraction proves disastrous as the abomination's mass barrels into the lone adventurer. Fenrigson is hurled against the far wall of the cavern, lights swim before his eyes, and his breath is driven from his lungs. Fenrigson falls face first into the hard cavern floor, chipping his tooth, and splitting the skin over his eye. The abomination closes the gap quickly, he reaches down to the floor and lifts Fenrigson up by his hair, the pain quickly brings Fenrigson back to his senses, his feet dangle 3 feet off the ground, his sword broken on the ragged floor beneath him.

The monster brings Fenrigson close to his face, vile breath singing his nostrils, Fenrigson pulls his dagger from it's hidden sheath on his forearm, and slices the beast's wrist just below the gauntlet, attempting to sever the tendon and free himself from it's grasp, the strike is ineffective however, as the guantlets seem to glow in response to the attack. The monster's teeth sink into Fenrigson's chainmail, luckily, the monstrosity has chosen his nondominant arm to chaw, Fenrigson changes the angle of attack, sliding the wicked length of his dagger into the gelatinous eye socket of the demonspawn, the beast howls, and Fenrig drives the blade further, seeking whatever ichy grey matter might control the Draugr, with a twist of the wrist and another thrust, the giant undead leader crumples to the floor, releasing its grasp on Fenrigson, who quickly recovers his battered and broken longsword and proceeds to dismember the abomination with the remaining length of blade.

As Fenrigson goes about the ghastly business of butchering the remains of the Draugr and its haugbui, piling the bodies into the center of the cavern, where he would set flame to them, his gaze returns to the shiny golden gauntlets which adorned the Draugr's arms. After much carving, and a precision even the best surgeons in Shanandoah would admire, he removes the gauntlets from the beast, their markings beginning to softly glow once removed from the abomination. As if some inherent intelligence which resided in the gauntlets could sense their separation from the evil they had adorned, the ichor and gore that had caked them, promptly fell off. The runes engraved into gauntlets were now clearly visible.

Fenrigson gasps as he recognizes the markings, for inscribed upon the gauntlets, in ancient Frost Giant script, were the marks of Hyrokkin, Skadi, and Auglemir. Stories from his childhood resurface, and Fenrigson can picture the grim visage of Funkar Bootspit, reknown blacksmith of Belegrond, rumored to have both the blood of Dwarves and of Giants running through his veins, (aye what a match!) as he would tell of wonderful treasures forged by both the dwarves and the giants that have been long lost to humankind. These gauntlets must therefore be the Thrice Blessed Gauntlets of the Kings of which he spoke so long ago, long lost and feared destroyed, this Draugr must have had them for centuries.

Fenrigson smiled, and began his journey back to the capital, where he would present the Thrice-Blessed Gauntlets of the Kings to Regulus, King of Hammarsett.