Sanguinary Mitten - Gauntlet Forging

As it should be."

The woman stated plainly enough, as she set the knuckles carefully down, allowing them some time to properly cool. Those ocean blue eyes of hers shifted away from the knuckles, and onto the rather large amount of metal that would be required for the singular gauntlet.

"Who even needs two gauntlets when ya' can just hit 'em real hard with one."

Of course, Task only had one hand, so two gauntlets would be pointless for him. Would she say this aloud? Nope! Though she could have easily, but for whatever reason she opted to remain silent. Probably something to do with her being rather exhausted from hammering away at the ores. Oh well, she'd find the energy to keep going from somewhere.

That somewhere being her star.

Channeling more, and more mana from Vrona, the Queen would get to work bludgeoning the remaining ore into the shape of a proper gauntlet, or as Task called it a mitten. One that would be able to house that strange crystal that had up until a few moments ago resided in the hilt of the fallen' Caelus' blade, or was it just a hilt he had on him?

Vanamir had no clue, nor did she care.

Either way, the gauntlet were up to snuff after what seemed like ages of her blackened fists hammering away at the ores. A fine place for the knuckles to be assembled onto later, as well as a series of 'tunnels' going through the rather large gauntlet. Who's purpose would serve to house the wires that would flow throughout the entire weapon.

Speaking of the wires.

"We're onto tha' wirin' now, ya'?"
(Vanamir Queen)

Task was ever perceptive, even if he'd lost his eyes. He could clearly see when Vanamir began to work away at the mass of ethereal alloy into the great mitten that would adorn his right hand. He knew it would be large, there was no point in it if it didn't aid in his pugilistic endeavors. But unlike a true brutish instrument, every ounce of the material used in the grand mitten was pulsating with etheric energy and malleability. Arcanium absorbed the soul steel, bound with ghost mithril and the mana infused metal of fallen Caelus' hilt.

All became a great, fist shaped mallet of retribution.

As Vanamir pounded the massive gauntlet into a feasible shaped with starfire, Dun would continue to sift energy through the moulding metal to aid and expand upon her internal efforts. As she hollowed tunnels in preparation for the wiring, Task refined them and, based upon the rough physiology of his right, serpentine scarred arm, marked where the barbs would lie to pierce directly into his flesh and mana circuitry.

It would grant power at a cost, the true lesson of energy magic. The one that had taught Task everything.

As the grand mitten, arguably twice the size of the large, bald man's fist in size in spite of his own physicality and brutishness. The metal was a glinting, shimmering blue silver, rainbowy singes fluctuating wherever sun fell upon its touch. Of radiant, energized arcanium, spirit made matter in soul steel, and the haunting echoes of ghostly unlife and the veil between the spirit world and the living in ghost mithril, all alloyed into a great caestus recipient to etheric energy like no other, a raw shaper of mana as if a artisan of living, flowing clay.

A fine adornment to he who proclaimed himself clown prince as any. A bold mark of resolve. And to all who would follow his path long after he was gone.

As the final casting was completed, the clown would finish the molding of the channels within inpreparation for the accursed, bloody wiring to flow into his arm. It would be a likely torturous endeavor, and the pain would be incredible. But he would leave no level of his great treasure's work to chance or frivolity, all measures must be taken for success.

He must put some of himself into his artifice, to empower him in his fading years and pass that power on to those who could use it when he is gone.

With the gauntlet completed at last, the one armed warlord would approach it in spite of its heat, gritting his teeth as he blackened and hardened his skin before putting the incomplete mitten upon his calloused hand. It was a frightening appendage already, of that there was no doubt.

Slapping the gem from the energy blade's hilt into his mittened palm, the warlord would grit his teeth before nodding to Vanamir as he gestured to the final crucible.

"The wiring will fit best if completely swiftly, while the gauntlet's channels are still hot and malleable. The barbs upon the wires must pass through the channels we've forged with my assistance, they will pierce into the circuitry upon the form arm and palm to achieve maximum output of etheric energy. It will not be a pleasant process, but I've had worse."

The warlord would nod, raising his gauntleted, but unknuckled and unrefined metal fist. They had a job to do.

"It's time for the wires. The soul steel I've weaved into the beating, blood copper heart's alloy with the ghost mithril did not deafen its spark of life, there is still a foul energy possessed amongst it, an unnatural consciousness of accursed life. I will manifest my resolve in controlling it as it is pierced while we purify it in the boiling leviathan oil."

(Task)