Sanguinary Mitten - Knuckles

Should be simple enough."

As requested, the woman would start with the first part of the soon to be forged weapon. That of course being the spikes that would adorn the front of those glorious gauntlets. A deep breath followed, before the woman's entire body continued to be set ablaze by the light of Vrona. Said light quickly condensed itself around her fists, until only blackened fists remained.

"Runs in tha' family."

That's all she'd say in reference to that! A moment later, the clown would get to work. Those blue eyes of her studying the ores intently for a moment. Where had her brother even acquired such unique materials? Bah, something to worry about at a later date. Right now, she had a job.

No hammer would be produced, after all! She had no need for such a tool, her fists were strong enough to make the metal bend to her will. So, that's exactly what she'd do.

The sounds of her blackened fists connecting with the ores echoed throughout the mountain tops, perhaps even threatening to cause an avalanche, as the smith works her ass off. With each blow, the metals began to shift until they reached the desired shape. Which was of course, barbed, as her brother had requested!

Oh, and of course, her brother was there... Doing energy things to the soul steel?

Yeah, that's probably what he was doing.

"Knuckles... Done!" She'd say, taking a deep breath, as her head slowly shook from side, to side. Letting some oxygen flow into her lungs, all while her muscles took this brief period to relax. Though, they wouldn't get much time to relax. No sooner had she finished the first part, had she gotten to work on the second alloy. That being the actual gauntlets.

There ain't no rest for the wicked.

"Onto the actual gauntlets now? Or shall we do the wires?"
(Vanamir Queen)

As Vanamir bludgeoned the metal into form with raw starfire, the blind, one armed energy magi's palm would curl as the molten metal twisted from within, the soul steel coaxing with the product and folding over upon itself internally, reinforcing the structure steadily as Vanamir hammered the mass of alloyed cold iron into the heavy, blunt forced bar laden with spikes that would prove the prime conduit of sanguinary violence for the tool.

It would be a blood letting mitten, of that there would be no doubt.

As the bar was progressively stretched, the warlord would twist the metal of the spikes from within as it coiled upon itself in molten, malleable heat of spirit and star fire. The spikes were internally and externally reinforced, as much a conduit of stolen, repurposed energy as they were a form of caestus now.

Taking a deep, exhausted breathe as Vanamir at last secured the final form of the cold iron knuckles, the warlord would sigh with relief as the wintry, frigid air cooled him down after the heavy exertion fighting against the very nature of cold iron. With adaptation, it would be easier, but it was going to take its toll no matter what.

As it it should be. As the gauntlet was a symbol to represent. No power should ever be wielded without the sacrifice necessary to earn it.

"With the knuckles done, it can be set aside to cool before the assembly and tempering. For now, we move on to the mitten proper. There's a lot of material for the alloy here, and I only have one arm. This will be one, giant right handed mitten. A true caestus of mercenary legend."
(Task)