#Armour Steel Plate Importers

[chhajedsteelplates]

Armour Plates Stockist in Mumbai

The world is changing into a steadily risky place and the requirement for upgraded security is beginning at now of key hugeness. The steel business isn't utilizing all strategies kept from mechanical updates in the security part with Armor Plated steel changing into a general consumable for protection against impacts or ballistic shots. Chhajed Steel and Alloys offer Armor Steel Plate .

This has as a rule been used as a touch of security applications. Careful layer Plate can be used for both effect and ballistic affirmation as a result of its awesome properties. Its notoriety in the confinement district and pro security division is a prompt eventual outcome of its high hardness and strength.This kind of steel has been especially made to give human affirmation through its ability to withstand the impact of shots released from a mix of savage weapons.

Chhajed Steel and Alloys supply of steel plates is pointed in a general sense at the market for armouring standard subject vehicles and is used to help section sheets and unmistakable weak regions. Vehicles secured as needs be are then used by authorities, invigorate workplaces, and supportive social events working in a bit of the world's most hazardous conditions. Plates are in like route open for uses as a touch of employments, for instance, exchange out advancement vehicles, police and para-military rigging, and military secured staff bearers.

[spadefish]

Yoink.

Ashe hasn't shown up in the rp yet but I think it'd be really funny if this is how they met.

[writers-potion]

Writing Weapons (4): Clubs, Maces, Axes, Slings and Arrows

Clubs & Maces

Maces are refined versions of clubs, usually made from steel and flanged or spiked.

Perfect for smashing and plate armour and for crushing skulls.

When used on horseback, the rider uses continuous swining motion and leans to the side to hit.

Type of Fight Scene: gritty, historical fiction, smashing armour

Typical user: brawny male with broad shoulders nad bulging biceps

Mostly used in: historical fiction - Stone Age to Middle Ages

Main Action: smash, crush, bludgeon, batter

Main motion: downwards

Typical injury: crushed bones, crushed skull

Strategy for lethal fight: crush skull

Disadvantages: heavy, need to get closer to the opponent

Batle Axes

Used by a peasant or lumberjack

Special battle axes are bigger and heavier, with longer handles

A weapons for attack rather than defence, good at cleaving through armour

Can break through enemy shields and kill a charging horse.

They require intense training, so users are highly skilled elite soldiers, often aristocrats.

Types of Fight Scene: gritty, brutal, battles, attack, historical fiction, fantasy fiction, cutting through armour

Typical User: tall brawny male with broad shoulders and bulging biceps, courageous, elite soldier, Viking, Saxon

Mostly Used In: European Dark Ages to Middle Ages

Main Action: cleave, hack, chop, cut, split

Main Motion: downwards

Typical Injury: severed large limbs, split skulls, cleaved torsos

Strategy for Lethal Fight: severe the arm which holds the sword or the shield, or cleave torso from top to bottom, or cut off a lef then split the skull

Disadvantages: big and heavy

Bows and Arrows

They are weapons of mass use. Hundred of arrows are shot at the enemy to inflict as mcuh damagne as possible from a distance.

In the middle of the battle and for close combat, they're useless.

Castles were designed for the use of bows and arrows, with narrow windows called 'archer slits'. The top of the outer walls were desgined so archers could shoot while remaining under cover.

Arrows are relateively cheap and quickly to produce. Tips an be metal or sharpened stone, wood, bone, glass splinters, etc.

Pieces of feather at the end help the arrows fly better, but knowing which part of the feather to attach how and where is much -treasured knowledge.

Characters can learn the basics of archery can be done quickly at an emergency. However, to be really good it takes years of practice.

Most important skill is to be able to shoot many arrows in quick succession.

Stone Slings

Stone slings are cheap to make - it only takes a piece of leather, string and ammunition are simply pebbls lying around.

This makes it good for low-tech historical periods and for characters of all ages and physical capacities.

Doesn't require great physical strength, but a lot of practice is required to achieve accuracy.

Different cultures have different techniques for holding and releasing, none of which includes the continuous frantic whirling around beloved by moview makers. Rotatin is usually done once or twice, or not at all.

(1) the slinger hooks the end of the sling over her fingers (2) holds the hand above the shoulder so the sling's bag with the stone in it hangs down behind her shoulder. (3) flings it straight forward.

Blunders to Avoid

Depicting an axeman as an unkilled brute who chops blindly.

Battles where the archers shoot when sword fighters are already engaged in close fighting

[writeyouin]

Hi :D Can you do a Mirage x a fem reader were the reader has a crush on Mirage but she does not know how to tell him because he is a autobot and she is a human and is nervous of how he will react? (Sorry if this is cringe 😅) (fell free to add whatever you want if you want to :)

Mirage X Reader – A Knight in Metal Plating

A/N – So, this story turned a wee bit angsty. Still, I hope it’s to your liking.

Warnings – Minor attack on reader, which is thwarted by Mirage but does come off somewhat creepy.

Rating – T

New York City was large and somewhere you felt wholly out of your depth. The alleys seemed darker and more dangerous than those in other places, except apparently to the natives who were used to traversing the city quickly via said alleys. The streets were either far too loud and bustling with people, or eerily quiet in a manner that set off warning bells that something sinister might be lurking just out of sight in the shadows. Then, there were the con artists, thugs, and petty thieves who all managed to hide in plain sight.

Fortunately for you, there were also Autobots hiding in plain sight, and they could only be spotted by those who knew what they looked like when disguised as ordinary vehicles. Mirage, one of said Autobots, had taken to waiting outside your workspace so he could drive you home on late nights. He couldn’t understand how you felt unsafe after braving the fight against Galvatron’s forces, but he supported you in your plight anyway, vowing to do whatever he could to make you feel safe.

You smiled when you saw him, walking a little taller and prouder. Mirage was one of the few people who made you happy. He was sweet, kind, funny, and… you were totally in love with him. How could you not be? He had risked his life to save you, Noah, and Elena. Then, you had gone through the shock of witnessing what you believed was his death at the time.

You remembered that day all too well. You were stuck with Noah beneath Mirage’s chassis, and his optics had softened despite how much pain he was in. He didn’t care for his own life. Only of yours and Noah’s as he protected the two of you, breaking his body down to nothing more than spare parts which he gifted to Noah as armour.

After that, you were left in Bumblebee’s care, a final request by Mirage before he briefly shut down.

As far as you were concerned, Mirage was never allowed to scare you like that again, and you had told him so immediately after Noah managed to bring him back online.

You got to the car door and were about to greet Mirage when you heard a voice holler, “Hey baby, how about a ride in a real car.”

You turned shakily around hoping that the voice was addressing someone else, anyone else, even though you and the heckler were the only two people in the parking lot. Sure enough, the man was coming towards you. He looked a lot like Noah’s friend Reek, though he lacked the mischievous manner and kind eyes that Reek possessed.

This man was a stranger, a threat to you and he was suddenly only a few feet away. You backed up against Mirage, the cool steel of his door handle pressing against the small of your back. You felt a light indistinct rumble of his engine. The rumble was a message; he was there for you, and he was angry at the intruder.

The man stopped in front of you, humming appreciatively, “Or we could forget the car and you could ride me.”

“I- I have to go,” You stammered.

Even though Mirage was right there with you, you knew he wasn’t supposed to be seen and you didn’t want him to have to blow his cover for you.

“Go? But we’ve only just met. Where do you have to go that’s so important?”

“I’m- seeing someone.”

“No surprise someone so fine isn’t on the market. But whatever happens here, in this place, that’s just between you and me baby.”

You shivered at the malice in the man’s voice. There was no room for interpretation. Unless you or Mirage acted, he was going to take what he wanted from you.

He reached out to grab you, and you ducked out of the way, almost tripping over, though you managed to recover using Mirage’s front bonnet for support. Your harasser pursued you, but Mirage opened his front door hard, slamming into your assailant.

He grunted and fell to the floor, “What the fuck?!”

You didn’t wait for him to recover as you ran to the driver’s side of the car, getting in hurriedly and pulling the seatbelt over you.

“Want me to run him over?” Mirage asked you, revving his engines.

You shook your head curtly, the idea of any bloodshed making you nauseous.

“I just want to go home,” You whispered.

“Rodger that.”

You heard the screech of wheels as Mirage stayed on the spot, pumping his brakes to build-up the speed he would need for a dramatic take-off.  He opened his passenger door again, hitting your attacker square in the face before leaving. If that guy wanted to harm his human, then he would have to deal with the consequences.

Once safe, Mirage waited a while for you to talk, but it soon became clear that you weren’t planning to.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You shook your head, then realised you weren’t sure whether he could see you when you were inside his vehicle mode. “I- I wasn’t prepared for that… If you weren’t here-”

“I was here (Y/N),” Mirage said supportively.

“But if you weren’t-”

“No, don’t think like that. I’ll always be here for you.”

“You can’t always be where I need you, Mirage. It’s not fair on you. You have a life too.”

Mirage thought about his life before he met you. It was a lot of hiding, and no good conversation since Optimus never wanted him to do anything that drew attention to him or the other Autobots. Essentially, you were his escape from a life with the tight-asses. You gave him someone to talk to, and you laughed at his jokes. You went with him to new places, directing him on where to go, and despite the strange circumstances under which you met, you had never feared him, trusting him intimately in a way he never knew a human could.

Moreover, you had a huge crush on him. He had known for a long time, but for a while, he waited to see if you would make a move. He wanted you to, hoping that he could take the opportunity to brag about how great he was and then, when the moment was perfect, kiss you. Yet, the often-neglected mature part of his processor also held him back, for as enchanting as a relationship with you would be, there was always a chance that he and the others would have to leave Earth at some point; despite the quietness of the previous years, the war still waged on somewhere out there, and the Decepticons were no pushovers.

Suddenly feeling sorry for himself, Mirage made a quick U-Turn, cutting off several now furious drivers who beeped their horns at him and swore out of their windows in equal measure.

Your shoulder slammed hard against the door and you hissed in pain.

“Mirage, what’s going on?” You asked worriedly as you rubbed at the sore spot.

“We’re going to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?” You asked incredulously. “What do we have to celebrate?”

“The world is still here, we know each other. It’s a nice night, and you’re absolutely gorgeous.”

You flushed red like you always did when he complimented you offhandedly. You wanted to take it in your stride but it was difficult to when you knew that was just Mirage’s nature and there was likely no real desire behind his words.

“Okay, now you say something nice about me,” Mirage wheedled.

You couldn’t help smiling at his attempt to coax a compliment from you, “You’re my knight in metal plating.”

“And…?”

“And you’re totally smoking hot,” You laughed.

“And…?”

“And the second-best driver that I’ve ever met.”

“What?” Mirage sputtered. “Second? No way, I’ve got the wheels, the heels, and nobody can beat me in a race.”

“I’ve seen you race Bumblebee and lose. When you beat him around the warehouse, I will concede that you’re the best driver I’ve ever met but until then,” You tsked, “I’m afraid that you’re only second best.”

“I’ll show you second best.” Mirage pumped the accelerator, using his energon boosters to break any speed limit that human cars could set. Only a short while later, you and he were in the middle of nowhere, far outside the city on a relatively unused rural road.

Mirage opened his door for you, transforming immediately afterwards.

“Whew,” He stretched his arm across his chassis, “Alright, so this second-best business has to stop. I’m your hero, your top-notch bot, your número uno hombre.”

“If you say so,” You smiled, setting the pace for a leisurely walk through the woods. Although it was late at night and dark, you felt safer in the small wooded area than you did in the city. Old leaves crunched under your feet and Mirage kept himself to a slow walk so he wouldn’t overtake you.

He was glad to see you relaxing again, and even happier to see that he’d managed to bring your smile back. Yet somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that he could make you both equally ecstatic. It would be corny, oh man, would it be corny. All he would have to tell you was that he knew how to be your number one, and when you demanded to know how he would kiss you and reply that he was the only one who could take your breath away.

And yet, he couldn’t bear to do so. It was better for you to find mediocrity in your life rather than true happiness if it meant avoiding the difficulties of an inter-species relationship where you would constantly have to worry about the future. Mirage hoped you would see it the same way because there might one day come a time when you confessed your feelings for him, and if you did, he wouldn’t be able to hold back any longer. He would be yours forever more, and frankly, that terrified him.

Like you had said, he was your Knight in Metal Plating, but wasn’t the irony of knights that they often had to leave their loves when an important quest came along? Mirage didn’t ever want to leave you, but if he ever had to, he feared the tearful goodbye. He had promised to be there for you, but who would be there for him when you inevitably no longer needed him or found someone who you could spend your time with? Someone human moreover.

Frankly, Mirage didn’t know what he wanted as he walked by your side, stealing furtive glances in your direction. He wanted to be yours, yet contrarily for you to stay away from him. He wanted you to be with someone who could love you as you deserve to be loved, but to avoid that kind of spark-ache, he would rather see you alone. He wanted you to tell him how you felt, yet also remain silent. Ultimately, he just wished for you to stay in his life.

When it came to you, Mirage couldn’t make up his mind, but that was the curse of love; it was a fickle mistress of the heart.

[plushyvi]

'hard luck, blues!" — chapter one!

game: fallout 4

character: arthur maxson

summary: searching for his parents’ killer, arthur maxson escapes vault 49 with vengeance in his veins. meanwhile, you’re busy trying to keep the commonwealth together through the brotherhood of steel. while your goals are completely different, your lives converge, and it seems like fate chose it to stay that way.

warnings: afab! reader, she/her pronouns used, second person pov, spoilers for the bos and main timeline in fo4, main masterlist here, reader and maxson fight a little :3, kells is kinda a babysitter LMAO, can you tell i like writing fight scenes?

taglist: @hrefna-the-raven

the next day comes as quickly as possible. maxson feels that the alarms to get up sounded as soon as he closed his eyes. but nevertheless, seven hours has passed and he was told to meet you and paladin danse at the point of the prydwen's outside deck. the two soldiers stood before you as you nodded your head to the fort below.

"down there is where a group of super mutants are residing. they've taken over that stronghold, where a pile of weaponry is waiting to be used by the brotherhood," you explain to the soldiers, "i'm sending you two on a vertibird to smoke them all out and acquire the goods. kill anything that isn't our ally. i trust paladin danse will provide a good example of a brotherhood soldier to you, initiate."

"yes, ma'am." danse presses a closed fist to his plated chest.

"elder." is all maxson says with a nod.

you glance at him again, seeing how he wasn't as enthusiastic to do so. you lean against the railing and tilt your head. "after this mission, i may see enough to let you become a knight, maxson," you state, seeing how he perks up a little, "don't disappoint me."

he thinks you’re kinda’ crazy, to be honest. the way you’re smiling at him makes him confused. it’s like he was your little experiment, and he was willingly letting you do so. maxson can only watch as you order him around, too.

“any question?” you ask.

“how old are you?” maxson is quick to question.

“soldier.” paladin danse is quick to reprimand.

“questions about the mission, initiate,” you sigh out as you cross your arms, “but to answer your question, i am 20 — the same as you, as cade reported to me this morning after your check up.”

maxson tilts his head at you. “are all, uh… elders this young?”

“don’t let l/n’s age fool you,” paladin danse says, “she’s a brilliant tactician. she became an elder at 16, and is greatly appreciated despite being the youngest elder.”

“enough about me,” you bring up a hand to stop them as you glance to the stronghold, “you two have a mission. paladin, please see your soldier to the vertibird. ad victorium.”

maxson is quick to stomp away with danse behind him. it felt as if you were making some sort of jester out of him, sending him off to do your bidding. was it seriously so important that you got your hands on that weaponry?

he made quick work of it too; destroying those super mutants seemed more than easy to him when he was so eager to get this over and done with. danse was even surprised by how fast they were able to take down the behemoth. as they touched the ground, danse spoke up.

"initiate," he said. maxson stopped his tracks and glanced back at the power-armour-wearing figure. "what are your intentions with the brotherhood? why did you join?"

"it was either i join this cult or die," maxson scoffed back at the stupid question, "if it were up to me, i would be off on my way without you idiots trailing behind me."

"but what do you hope to gain?" paladin asks, straight to the point.

in all truth, maxson already knew. he could tell how powerful you were when all the knights and scribes begged at your feet for something to do. with how captain kells acted around you and how danse spoke so highly of your presence in the commonwealth. you were truly a figure of high regard.

he wanted your spot.

with the brotherhood in his hand, he would be able to take down any and all enemies he had. the institute wouldn't stand a chance from what he's seen. all he needed was your title.

you'd be smart not to let him get that close, he thinks.

"information," maxson replies, "i just want to get to my parents."

he's such a liar. but he's a good one at that.

"the brotherhood can help with that," danse explains with a sure nod, "elder l/n won't rest until the institute and all its abominations are taken down."

maxson searches danse's eyes for anything that could go against his statement. did the paladin really think that l/n was as eager as he was?

it didn't matter right now. for the moment, maxson has to play dolly and do whatever you ask of him.

on the prydwen, you watch from your office windows. you were impressed by how they made quick work of those super mutants and entered the building with ease. perhaps this initiate would prove much worthy of your time.

"elder," you hear behind you. one glance and you see the captain standing there. "if i may have a moment with you to discuss your recent initiate."

"proceed." you reply as you stand in front of him.

"i believe that maxson's attitude is... for a lack of a better term, quite ill-mannered. he's uncooperative with the other soldiers, excusing danse, and he doesn't allow anyone to take care of his pip-boy," captain kells explains. you raise a brow; he collected this from one day of maxson's arrival? "proctor teagen said that maxson was 'a stick in the mud' and 'a shitty customer'. how can we expect to work with him when he is like this?"

"don't worry, kells," you say with a wave of your hand, "i'm keeping an eye on him. he'll be whipped into shape in no time."

"this... isn't one of your experiments, is it?" captain kells deadpans as you shrug your shoulders, "ma'am. first was knight delecroix and allowing them free use of their power armour from their rank as an initiate, and we are still trying to fully repair the dent made on the side of the prydwen. second was giving proctor quinlan full authority over security — which he used to search for technical documents all at once. and now, this? elder l/n, do we have the time to be messing around?"

"i assure this, this isn't for entertainment anymore, captain," you claim as you tilt your head at him, "that soldier has something we don't — an incredibly personal tie to the institute. he could be the key to taking them down. kellogg was a huge target and if maxson managed to rid of him, he is fully capable of doing the extraordinary. believe me, i've thought about this. maxson is interesting and i fully intend on using him to our leverage."

captain kells doesn't know what to make of your latest game. maybe you're just extra infatuated with maxson since he is a vault dweller, but he needed to keep an eye on him, for your sake. he'd hate to see you waste away as a result of your heart.

"understood, elder. i apologise for the intrusion," captain kells says with a salute, "i will return to my duties."

"it's fine, captain." you reply as he walks away.

everyone knew of how much kinder you were than the other elders, but what only a select few knew was how much your curiosity got the better of you. you needed to be tethered to some sort of limit or else you'd go overboard. kells only prays that maxson is the referenced limit that you will hit.

no less than an hour later, you see an vertibird recall itself into the ship. maxson comes walking into your office. you're standing there expectantly, already knowing that your paladin was smart enough to do some surveillance of the newly acquired site and make a full report for you to later read. what you were awaiting was maxson's complaining, which came not too long after.

"outstanding work at fort strong, soldier." you praise him with your hands behind your back. he resists the urge to roll his eyes.

"why must i deal with super mutants when it's the institute that i should be looking for?" he scoffs at you.

"we take things one step at a time. in order to attack the institute, we need to use every weapon at our disposal," you explain with a stern tone, "acquiring that ammunition does that. but anyway, it only gets more difficult from here."

he watches as you walk over to the side table and pour two glasses of some golden liquor. when you offer him one, he takes it. a small smile is placed on your lips before you sip and lean against the bars against the windows.

"i try to supply my soldiers with the best. that's why i'm giving you these," you toss him a box of signal grenades. he catches the item with a raised brow. "those are for signalling a vertibird to your location when you need aerial transport. i'm sure you know how to use it."

"i'll make good use of it." maxson mumbles under his breath as he stores them away.

"i expect that you will, soldier," you hum out as you empty your glass, "i'm certain that you're aware that front strong was simply the first step towards the liberation of the commonwealth. an even greater task lies ahead. by now, i'm sure you've deduced that our arrival in the commonwealth wasn't coincidental."

"i hadn't heard anyone really mention you as much as they did once the prydwen showed up," maxson admits to you, "why did the brotherhood only send one elder? is the institute not that important of a problem to take care of?"

"you wouldn't believe me if i said there are countless other issues that the wasteland offers," you sigh out as you push some hair from your face. maxson scans your features for a moment; you look tired. "but we are here because of a unique energy reading recorded by paladin danse's recon team. our scribes say that the level of technology was something only the institute could achieve."

"then your mission is clear," he states. you nod your head, "the institute and all synth creators must be eliminated."

"at all costs," you add on. you stare at maxson a little longer. he seems to understand your underlying intentions, but makes no word of it. "to accomplish this goal, we need to locate the institutes headquarters in the commonwealth. our field scribes have returned... empty handed."

"sounds like you're going to have me crawling through the sewers now." the soldier in front of you scowls with a distasteful expression.

"whether it's the sewers, transit tunnels or even an old vault, i need you down there to investigate," you tell him as you stand up straight. you step closer to him. you lower your voice. "become our eyes and ears on the ground. you have an interest in the institute regardless of our cause, so i'm sure you'll travel in the right circles."

maxson, only arms-length away from you, stares back into your eyes. you're as determined as could be, and he knows that he shares that with you.

"and if i find a way in?"

"report to me immediately," you state with the tilt of your head, "i don't want an initiate going in there without a plan. use the brotherhood to your advantage—"

"'initiate'?" he repeats as he lifts his head up, "you said that—"

"if i saw enough, i would promote you," you finish off. he only gets more pissed off at that. you hang your head and put your glass down as your rub your neck. "maxson, i like your confidence in battle and your strategies, however... your attitude is lacking. i could see that you weren't as passionate in the mission as i would like."

"excuse me?" he furrows his brows with a confused expression, "what are you trying to say? i'm not... a passionate fighter?"

you let out a small sigh as you rub your eyes, "maxson, i need you to be on board with the brotherhood in order for our deal to work. you help me and i help you. it seems that you don't want to help unless we are attacking the institute directly."

"that's absurd." he grunts as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"like it or not, you are a part of the brotherhood," you tell him with a pointed gaze, "you may attempt to get into the institute on your own, but i assure you that it wouldn't be half as possible as it would be with us."

"you are treating me like a pet," he retorts as he steps forward. he glares at you harder, more intense now.

instead of arguing anymore, you squint at him before shaking your head. "follow me."

he does so wordlessly, but all the while annoyedly. you were pulling his tail here. you were making somewhat empty promises, and maxson hated that. the whole entire vertibird ride down to the airport, he is glaring at you from his seat. you are talking with the pilot, who is nervously responding to your questions about some recent missions. you don't mind though, you sit there with your leg over your knee enjoying the conversation. maxson wants to rip his ears out.

the dweller does a little look around while you lead him through the airport. soldiers salute you and stand guard as you leave footsteps in the dirt. following them led maxson to... a training ground?

"soldiers are dismissed," you call out with a clap of your hands. laser weapons stop shooting their targets as they look over to you. "i need to occupy this area for the next few minutes."

"what are we doing here?" maxson questions as soldiers file out of the outside training area.

the barricades are filled with brotherhood knights and scribes, awaiting your command and eagerly inspecting the interaction. some people even wait at the entrances and peek around the corner. they've heard lots about maxson.

"you and i will have a little sparring match," you say as you take off your jacket. you're left in your elder uniform and combat boots, which not many soldiers have seen before. to be honest, not many people have seen you fight at all. surely your tactics suited your abilities. "i want you to give it your all. no weapons, only fists. first one to yield loses. understood, initiate?"

you were rubbing it in his face. you pulled up your sleeves as maxson took off his pip boy and placed it next to your things. you stood on one side of the training ground and he resided on the other.

"fine," he gets in position quickly. he's been waiting to see what you could do. "i promise not to ruin that pretty face of yours."

you blink at his comment as your tilt your head. some soldiers begin whispering between each other as you chuckle back, "oh, maxson, i'm not scared. you won't get the chance."

he clenches his jaw before rushing towards you, dragging a fist up before aiming it towards you. the impact would've been harsh, but you place a tense palm to the side of his forearm, pushing away his fist and landing your own punch against his stomach. the movement makes him still as the pain shoots through his system. he lets out a hefty cough and stumbles on his feet.

you can hear the cheering of your soldiers sound around the whole entire training ground. it's like the place has become an arena.

this was your way of disciplining maxson. he needed to realise his mistakes and his faults through his own actions. simply telling him wouldn't do it justice. he needed demonstrations.

he leans slightly against you. your hand hold him up by his shoulders as he slumps a little.

"are you alright, maxson?" you ask in a light voice. you were teasing him. "if you cannot continue, we can—"

his arms go around your torso and tackle you to the ground. he is red with anger and embarrassment. his hair falls in front of his eyes as he glares down at you from his position from above. you blink at him and his change in demeanour.

"i'm not one of your lackies," he grumbles out, "don't try to treat me like one. i can take anything you wanna' throw at me."

you stare at him from your place below, against the floor. no soldier has ever challenged you as much as maxson had. sure, you've dealt with some young scribes wanting to be on the field as soon as possible but you deterred. and maybe a knight had gotten on your nerves for not properly taking care of their power armour and being lazy. but maxson? he was pushing you. not only your boundaries with soldiers, but with your own personal margins.

were you supposed to be this intrigued with a soldier?

not infatuated — intrigued.

you smile as maxson attempts to subdue you, but you wiggle a knee out from under him and against his stomach to push him off of you. you're both quick to your feet, which allows you to send a push kick to his stomach. he gets knocked back a couple feet, but doesn't fall.

you take the chance to run towards him and copy his move to the point; your draw a heavy fist up and aim to hit him into the ground. but he moves out of the way and stares back at you.

danse was stupid — why didn't he mention that you were not only an amazing tactician, but also an exemplary fighter yourself?

he blocks your next few punches before you swoop in to kick him in his shoulder harshly, but maxson catches your leg and steps forward, which pushes you off balance once again. thinking quickly, you let yourself curl up and roll onto your back as you grab maxson's arm and toss him over your head.

in a daze, he stands up again and quickly pushes a leg out to hit the side of your neck. you bring an arm to block. luckily, it takes the impact as you're knocked back down to the ground and cover your head. scratches are left on your forearms from the move. maxson smiles.

"if i land a clean hit on you," he yells out as he gives you a second to stand up and brush dirt off of yourself, "then i will be ranked up to knight."

"that isn't how things work around here." you say as you push your hair out of your face.

"i'm a special case, aren't i?" he questions first. you purse your lips at that as he wipes dust off from his arms. "is that a deal?"

you glance over to captain kells, who had touched down on the airport a minute ago after a scribe doing maintenance outside had informed him of your leave. he had heard everything from his front row seat. you missed being down on the ground when you were younger, he knew. he doesn't shake his head, only raising his brows at the offer.

looking back at maxson, you smile a little. "if you cannot do so in five minutes, then i win and you take me to your vault," you add on, which makes him furrow his brows, "deal?"

letting our a hefty sigh, he responds, "deal."

as soon as he says that, you rush towards him from a curved angle. you launch a cross-punch to his jaw, which ultimately misses as he steps back. but you take the momentum and turn your whole body around so you can draw up a backwards roundhouse kick. he stumbles at the quick reaction and winces as your heel makes impact with his jaw.

he realises that you were holding back before since as soon as both of your feet are on the ground, you take quick steps towards his body and tackle him to the floor as he did to you. he skids against the floor with a pained groan before his eyes widen and he blocks your onslaught of punches towards his body as you straddle him.

you two can hear the cheering from the soldiers. watching their elder fight was exhilarating, even more so due to how much time you spent on the prydwen. you proved to them just how capable you are, and how you deserved to be an elder yourself.

"holding out on me?" he grunts out, "where did all this energy come from? do you really not want to promote me?"

"the information i could get from your vault would be incredibly seminal for the brotherhood," you explain as maxson finally catches both of your fists, "if i return to the high elder with intimate knowledge of a vault, it would prove much important. it has nothing to do with you."

the way you say that makes him seem like a meaningless cog in a machine. perhaps that's all you truly think about him. once you find something more interesting, you drop him like a boring toy.

"i don't doubt it," he huffs, "but that power armour is substantial for me."

he pushes you off of him quickly and watches as you too get up to your feet.

"it's not only your outfit and dazed look that gives away your origin," you call as you make space between the both of you, "it's your way of fighting. it's like you follow a formula in hand-to-hand combat. we need to break that in you. rewire your fighting."

he knits his brows with a clenched jaw at how you speak. of course that was the case, he was a vault dweller for all of his life and only versed radiated animals. none of them were smart enough to be able to calculate his next move.

so he's not exactly surprised when you attack him swiftly later on and make it passed his multiple blocks. it feels like you two have been fighting for hours, but surely it's only been a minute. he staggers back as you send a punch to his chest. it winds him, badly. you give a few seconds as you look towards kells.

"what's the time?" you shout out.

"you have one minute left, elder." he responds as he looks down to his working watch.

"one minute, maxson," you look back to your opponent, who was hunched over catching his breath. the green light from his pip-boy shows that he really does only have 53 seconds left to land a sure hit on you. "that vault must've taught you something useful."

he glares at you through lidded eyes, his hair a mess. as he slowly stands up straight, he pushes the stray strands away from his face and takes a deep breath.

the brotherhood means so much to you, doesn't it? it's so stupid, he thinks, that you would spend your whole life dedicated to something that just sees you as nothing more than a leaf on its tree. you, in the grand scheme of the cult you were a part of, were practically nothing. yet you cared the most for the brotherhood and it's soldiers, despite what rank they are.

you walk towards him slowly, menacingly, as if you wanted to scare him. the smirk on your face tells the tale of many, showing that you have ran this race a thousand times before. maxson, seeing that the seconds are drowning quickly with 42 seconds left, finally takes a knee.

you stop on your tracks as you watch him.

"wait, i..." he begins. but he falls to the ground, face-first.

"maxson!" you shout as you rush towards him. worry laced your tone — did you really go that far that a man like him could go down four minutes and 39 seconds later? "shit..."

once close enough, you lift him up from the dirt floor to sit up. you hold a hand behind his back and check his pulse. you hear your soldiers begin mumble around each other and watch with intensity at the whole fiasco. kells even steps forward towards the both of you.

"get proctor cade down here with medical supplies," you order the closest knights as you look over your shoulder. they nod their heads and start for the closest vertibird. you turn back to maxson. "we cannot lose—"

THWACK!

your cheek burns as you are forced by maxson's strong fist to look away again. the impact from his punch makes your jaw hurt a little, but you just blink a few times at the shock. maxson, on the other hand, is smiling wide with heavy exhales as the timer on his pip-boy finally sounds off. time's up.

"i win," maxson heaves, "clean hit. caught you off guard."

all the soldiers around you are quiet, and kells is burning with anger. how dare an initiate do that to you? speak to you in such a way? you should have him cleaning the whole prydwen for that!

"i guess you're right," you chuckle as you look back to maxson. you wipe the dripping blood from your chin and stand up. you hold out a hand to maxson, to which he takes, but it gives you the right time to strike him in the stomach with your knee. he doubles over again and you squat down enough to be in his vision. a smile is on your face. "i don't appreciate playing dirty during fights with another member of the brotherhood of steel. do not do this again. you fight fair against us. is that understood, knight?"

he sucks in his breath after letting out a few coughs. you stand back up and rub your cheek for a second as he speaks, "yes, elder l/n."

hearing you call him a knight makes him grin at you once he's stood up. despite the bruises that litter his face and arms, he comes out victorious and therefore the smile on his face is warranted. one step closer to his goal.

"alright, disperse. return to your duties," captain kells says to the rest of the soldiers. he comes closer to the both of you. "you two will be sent to proctor cade's office for healing. i do not want a repeat of anything like this today, do you hear me, knight?"

maxson wordlessly nods. you also nod, because you know you should listen to him too. kells begins to lead you to the vertibird to return to the prydwen.

"you will speak with proctor ingram about your new suit of power amour," you inform maxson as you glance to him, "don't make me regret this, soldier. i have faith in your work."

he holds his breath for a moment before looking away.

"i will do my best."

[monstersdownthepath]

What’s your opinion on sundering weapons or armour, and why don’t smarter monsters like vampires, liches, or dragons do it more often?

Well, let's look at the math:

Say a bog standard vampire wants to sunder Fighter McStabberson's +1 steel greatsword. A bog standard vampire is CR 9, so McStabberson is likely level 6~8; we'll say he's level 7 with 18 Str and 12 Dex (to maximize his value in his fancy new full plate).

This puts his CMD at 22. With a vampire's CMB bonus being +7, this means he has to roll a 15 or higher to successfully sunder McStabberson's sword at all! And since the vampire doesn't have Improved Sunder or Dirty Fighting, each sunder attempt means McStabberson can make an Attack of Opportunity against our poor vampire.

But hey, if the stars align and the vampire miraculously succeeds both his attack rolls, he slams the fighter's sword for 1d4+4 damage! ... which means the sunder attempt does absolutely nothing.

A steel sword, you see, has 10 Hardness, which the vampire cannot bypass and cannot hope to overcome with his slam attack. Oh, wait, I said it was a +1 sword, didn't I? That means it's hardness is actually 12, as every +1 enchantment to an item increases its hardness by 2. Each +1 also adds +10 HP to the item (bringing the sword from 10 to 20), but since the vampire can't pierce the items Hardness, the HP value doesn't matter.

Why would the vampire waste its time trying that at all when it could simply Dominate Mr. McStabberson instead? His slam attacks would also be much more effective if turned against McStabberson due to the Energy Drain attached to them. Similarly, a lich or a dragon would do much better evaporating the fighter underneath the armor than trying to go through it first, especially if that armor is enchanted. The only character that can really make the sunder maneuver work is someone specifically built to maximize its effectiveness through feat lines and weapon choice, but those are few and far between for one very specific and incredibly important reason:

who in their right god damn mind is going to destroy their potential loot?

And on the other side of that coin, having a monster specialize in sundering your player's gear is an effective tactic and is easily on the list of Top 10 Ways To Make Everyone Hate Playing With You. NO ONE likes losing their loot!

[tsyllaes]

Dudeman McBaldy here represents the rank and file of specifically the Sirronan army. First he puts on his base uniform, which is what they wear around the barracks if they're not actually training. Then he'll put on his armour, which is all in bronze because Kazin hasn't figured out iron yet and like hell Raykin's letting them in on that tech. In poorer provinces, the leaf mail will instead be leather with rivets. Next he'll put on his tunic, for which the single, solitary purpose is so I don't have to draw that much leaf mail every time I draw the princes :))) This will also be where he puts on his Family Colours, which are important even when in uniform. They'll either go over or under the belt, and often army dudes will have a second set of Colours for their uniform, which will cut off at the same length as their tunic. Finally, he'll strap his breastplate over his Colours and he's ready to arm himself to the teeth.

Rank and file get a bow and quiver, a wooden shield edged in bronze and a straight, bronze kris about half a metre long, so significantly shorter than the almost a metre Raykinian blades. Making the wiggles in the kris blade takes great skill, making them more pricey, and keeping them sharp and polished takes more time and effort than a straight one, so the rank and file will most often have a straight blade. The more highly-ranked a dude is, the more wiggles he'll have on his blade.

Next is all the colours of the provincial uniforms! Haysyd is pov so they can't afford to dye their army's uniforms in anything more than ochre :( They and Sissillya have similar colours but they're on opposite sides of the empire and aren't likely to ever be at war with each other, so it's fine. Sijaaz is up in the mountains on the Llayan border, so they get grey rock and gumleaf colours. Sirrona also in the bush, so they get desaturated blue-green of gumleaves. All the bright/deep green ones are tropical because dark green leaves. The others I just gave colours so they're not going to be confused with their neighbours, with whom they're probably at war, or have been in the past.

Finally army ranks, as displayed on their breastplates. I used to have them colour-coded with steel but that doesn't work anymore cos they don't have steel, ahaha. So it's all in stripes. The Commanding Circle (of whom there are 5-9 in an army, depending on the size of the army) and the general get theirs gold plated, and everyone from colonel up gets silver in their stripes.

Additionally, and not shown here because Dudeman McBaldy is just a dude, royalty gets all the metal on their armour plated gold. Their breastplate has a peacock feather engraved into it, and another peacock feather embroidered onto the breast of their tunic and shirt. They have no power inherant with being royalty, but you still wouldn't want to piss them off. They're still related to the queen, y'know. Here are my princes to demonstrate this:

[coffee-in-veins]

Day 19: Decoration

an entry for darkest prompts promptober 2022  

previous days: 1, 2, 3,  4, 5, 6,  7,  8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

now available on ao3 too

Decoration NOUN - a thing that serves as an ornament; a medal or an award conferred as an honour.

In the life of any man who became a knight were major things that decided his knighthood, to a degree. Some more than others, but those were all an important part of the knight's identity, of his dignity.

And Reynauld thought himself a knight.

He had a horse – the best stallion he had ever seen, a beast of anger and well-deserved pride, fiery-tempered and quick-witted. With his pelt of blackened silver and a mane so lush many ladies should’ve been envious, Chernush was the black pearl of any stable he stayed in. Rey dotted over the beast. The knight was ashamed to admit it, but the tenderness the stallion received probably outweighed the care he had shown his son in the brief time he had seen him.

Then again, the steed he actually wanted…

Still, the horse truly deserved all the extra care and love he could spare. Not only because he had won the gorgeous steed at the annual jousting tournament from an old scumbag Lord Gregory of Kerakstead who was belittling him for years for being removed from the family bloodline, and thus could rub his victory in by demanding the destrier as his prize – although, the crusader had to admit, that also was part of Chernush’s charm and significance. No, there was more to the stallion. His courage in battle, his gait, his speed and his stamina. Not to mention that Reynauld could spend hours, combing and braiding his mane and tail in the most fashionable way, showing off Chernush’s beauty.

The steed was a continuation of his knighthood, after all, knight’s ultimate symbol.

Then there was his armour. Trusty and well cared for, it had always been polished and its straps were constantly checked for any signs of leather cracks. There was some humiliation in having to take care of his own set of armour, without any help from a squire, but Reynauld learned to see it as a lesson in humility and an exercise in diligence, both of which were favoured by the Light. Not to mention that there was something remarkably soothing in the repeated motions of polishing the metal. The hard work at the moment meant his life would be saved later, so he could continue carrying out his duties.

Rey wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the most likely cared for the armoured plates far better than he cared for his own ageing and battered body. Both could withstand much punishment, but the people around him saw the armour, not the scars underneath. Thus, taking care of it took priority for someone of his social standing.

Then again, the flesh was weak, unlike the sacred steel.

The crusader cared for his sword even more than he did for his armour. After all, The Long Crusade and a family crest were all that reminded him of the life he so foolishly lost, and of the bloodline that disowned him. If he was to forget his biggest mistake, how could he avoid similar ones in the future? The knight ought to always strive to be better, to improve. The strife of perfection and Light’s approval was just as much part of his knighthood as the steed, the armour, the sword and the crest.

So where did it leave him now?

His beloved steed fell on the road, diminished to the pile of hurting, trashing flesh by a bunch of blackguards. The prized destrier was reduced to a broken crying heap in front of Reynauld’s very eyes. When the frenzy of righteous anger faded, he was left with the gruesome task of giving final mercy to his mutilated companion.

His armour, so cared for and invaluable, was torn and dented in the last expedition to the cursed Estate. Although it saved his life against the crushing grip of carrion devourers, it paid a hefty price for that. The cuirass was torn beyond repair and half of the tassets were lost in the battle. This caused the crusader to be stranded worse than fish out of water, shell-less, useless, and lacking his usual calming point.

Not to mention that he lost his family crest! He took the trinket with him, hoping to find solace in the memories, but instead found only depths of despair when he regained consciousness and realized it wasn’t there.

Could anyone blame him for doting over the Long Crusade, now? The sword was the last remaining strand of his sanity, the only blessed thing that still, somehow, allowed Reynauld not to lose his knightly identity. His Knighthood. Himself.

Everyone understood and gave him time and space to grieve. Maybe they couldn’t understand what he was grieving over, chalking it to frugality and having to spend a small fortune on the new armour, but they gave him peace nonetheless.

“Yer obsessing o’er that sword worse than a newlywed over his wife’s tits, tin man.”

Of course, then there was Dismas.

He couldn’t understand, Rey reminded himself, resorting to the politest grumble he was capable of:

“Not now, Dis.”

Usually, that was enough. Apparently, not today, as the rogue soundlessly stepped to him and plopped on the cot nearby, poking the jars of oils, rugs and the assortment of whetstones with curiosity.

“Ain’t it better done, y’know, somewhere which is not a bed?”

Rey pinched the bridge of his nose and forced out curt:

“Dis.”

“Ye start t’ worry me, tin man, bringing an iron poker instead of a woman t’ yer cot…”

“Dismas.”

The rogue’s eyes were too dark and too understanding for just some ex-brigand.

“Ah, not in the mood, are ye? What ‘bout that Light-y thing later, with candles n’ lanterns n’ those fancy pictures?”

“Icons,” the crusader corrected without thinking. “The All Saints’ procession.”

“Yeah, that.”

The knight – was he even one, after all he had lost? – had the decency to look away, grip on the sword tightening.

“I’m not going.”

“Oh? Why’s that? I saw ye washed yer black surcoat.”

Forcing the words out, true as they were, was far harder than the crusader thought.

“I’m not worthy.”

“Aw, shite. That’s a shame, y’know?” Dismas drawled, leaning back. “This ornament would’ve looked amazing on black.”

There was a rustle, and when he looked at the highwayman, his dark eyes were squinted in a way that meant an obvious grin. He was offering him something, Rey realized and looked back to see…

Party per pale Or and Sable, a lion rampant counterchanged, bordure Argent. Eared top shield, French base. On top of it, affronted Argent knight’s helm crested with horsehair plume Gules, and behind it, two swords saltire, Argent.

Reynauld looked up, all words lost in awe and affection, and the caring, insufferable bastard grinned openly, black eyes filled with mirth.

“Happy All Saints’ day, Rey.”

[theringlord]

The Top Places to Buy Quality Chainmail Jump Rings

Chainmail Jump Rings are a wonderful addition to any jewellery collection. They add a unique touch and can make a great gift. This is why it is important to buy quality rings. Here are some of the best places to purchase quality Chainmail Jump Rings. Don't miss out on our huge selection of high-quality chainmail jump rings - buy chainmail jump rings now and get creative!

Weave Got Maille

If you are interested in making chain mail jewelry, you may find that Weave Got Maille is one of the best places to buy quality chainmail jump rings. Not only do they have a great selection of jump rings, but they also sell anodized aluminum jump rings.

Chainmail has been used in medieval armor, and continues to be used in costumes, cut-resistant gloves for butchers, and body armour. You can use it to make all sorts of different jewelry.

The rings you use are very important. They must be the right size to make the weave work properly. This is because the inner diameter of a jump ring should be proportional to the diameter of the wire. If it is not, you will have a loose weave.

Aside from the color of the wire, you should choose the right type of material. If you want to have a strong and durable chainmail, choose stainless steel or titanium. Stainless steel is the strongest material available, but it is not the cheapest.

GAMEL Supply

Gampel Supply is a small company based in the Chicago area that specializes in the essentials for the seasoned smither. They have a massive catalog filled with the best and most innovative chainmail and other metal craft components in the business.

Their website is well laid out and their shipping is top notch. There is a slew of specialized chains to choose from and the staff is incredibly helpful and friendly. This is definitely the place to go for all your metal work needs. The website has a solid reputation for quality and service and the owner, Larry, is a genuinely nice guy. If you are looking for an inexpensive and comprehensive catalog of quality chainmail and other metal craft components, this is the place to go.

For chainmail aficionados, the best bet is to hit up the Weave Got Maille website for some slick deals on anodized aluminum rings in all shapes and sizes. In addition to a slew of new and exciting anodized aluminum rings, they also offer a large selection of anodized ring and jump ring sets for both novices and pros alike.

Worthco

Worthco is a company in Wisconsin that specializes in split links and jewelry components. Their offerings range from stainless jump links to scale Lamellar armour plates. They are also a supplier of chainmail components. If you're looking for an inexpensive way to improve the look of your chainmail, they've got you covered.

As a bonus, they offer an impressive assortment of gems and findings. It's worth taking a look around their website. You'll be pleasantly surprised at the variety of quality jewelry making supplies they have on offer. The most impressive assortment includes a work table sized anvil, a jaw-dropping selection of gemstones and a smorgasbord of findings.

In addition to their wide range of chainmail components, Worthco carries a full line of fishing lure parts. Not only are their custom parts impressive, they are also reasonably priced. This is good news for the novice armorer, as it means you can save hundreds of dollars in labor costs.

Chainmail Jump Rings

When you're looking for jump rings, there are a few things to keep in mind. First, you should always label the jump rings you purchase. The label should contain the manufacturer's information and the metal type.

Another consideration is whether to buy stainless steel or galvanized steel. Both are good choices. Aluminum is a cheaper material. But it's a little softer than stainless steel. It won't rust, and it's also half as heavy as steel. If you're making a costume, aluminum may be a good choice. However, if you're making chain mail, stainless steel is a better option.

You'll need a set of pliers. Pliers with long handles are preferable. These give you more control, and are ideal for thicker wire.

You can also use a pencil or wooden dowel. Make sure your pliers are smooth. This helps reduce pinching at the wire end.

Chain mail is used for many different things. In addition to jewelry, it is also used in body armor. Stainless steel is the most durable material.

[aaluminum]

Historically, Who Started Sheet Metal Work?

Sheet metalwork is a process that has been around for centuries. In its earliest incarnation, sheet metal was used to create swords and other weapons. Over time, the process evolved, and sheet metal began to be used for other purposes, such as creating roofing materials and ductwork. Today, sheet metal work is essential to many industries, including construction, automotive, and aerospace.

The Earliest Uses of Sheet Metal Work

The first known use of sheet metal dates back to 4000 BC when it was used to create swords in ancient Mesopotamia. Then, around 1000 BC, Chinese metallurgists began using a process known as annealing to make weapons and tools from iron and steel. This process made the metal softer and more pliable, which made it easier to work with.

By the Middle Ages, European blacksmiths had discovered how to make steel, which was even stronger than iron. This new material quickly became famous for making armour and weapons. To make steel, blacksmiths would heat iron until it glowed red hot before dipping it into water or oil. This process, known as quenching, made the steel harder and more durable.

The Industrial Revolution and Beyond

The industrial revolution ushered in a new era for sheet metal work. With the advent of new technologies like the steam engine and the cotton gin, factories began popping up all over Europe and North America. These factories required large amounts of metal for their machinery, which created a demand for sheet metal workers.

With the advent of new technologies like the rolling mill and the steam engine, manufacturers could mass-produce sheet metal much more efficiently than ever before.

As factories sprang up across the continent, so did the demand for skilled workers who could shape and manipulate sheet metal into the needed parts and pieces. These workers became known as “tin bashers,” a term still used today in some parts of the world.

Tin bashers were in high demand throughout the 19th and early 20th centuries as factories continued to churn out an ever-increasing number of products made from sheet metal. However, the rise of automated manufacturing processes in the mid-20th century led to a decline in the demand for manual labour, including tin bashers.

One of the most famous examples of early sheet metal work is the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, completed in 1708. The dome is made from over 3,000 tons of copper hammered into shape by hand. The Statue of Liberty is another well-known example of early sheet metal work; her outer skin is made from sheets of copper that were heated and bent into shape.

Today, sheet metal work is essential to many industries, including construction, automotive manufacturing, and aerospace engineering. New technologies have led to the development of automated machines that can accurately cut and shape sheet metal. However, there are still many instances where manual labour is required to create a custom piece or achieve a particular look.

Conclusion:

Sheet metal work is a fascinating field with a long and rich history. What started as a way to create swords and other weapons have become an essential part of many industries today. While new technologies have led to the development of automated machines that can cut and shape sheet metal with precision and accuracy, there are still many instances where manual labour is required to create a custom piece or achieve a specific look. Whether used to develop ductwork or the outer skin of an airplane, sheet metal work plays an important role in our world today.

Who are we?

We are an aluminum enthusiast and an aluminum metals supplier in Canada and the USA.

We offer premium, raw & anodized Aluminum sheets, Aluminum nameplates, assorted colour aluminum wire, cold or hot rolled Aluminum Plate, Gold, Black, Silver, and Purple Aluminum Foil and Aluminum Coil for sale in our warehouse, ready to ship today.

Call us today, Toll-Free: 866–860–0652, if you need further information.

Source: Historically, who started sheet metal work? History of Metal Work (aaluminum.com)

[chhajedsteelplates]

Armour Steel Plate

[royalchainmail]

The Fascination with Armour Gauntlets: A Historical and Modern Perspective

Armour gauntlets are one of the most iconic and essential pieces of protective equipment in historical warfare. These specialized gloves, typically made of metal, were designed to protect the hands and wrists of warriors in battle. While they were a crucial component of a knight’s full suit of armor, their appeal goes beyond just practical protection. Today, armour gauntlets are admired for their craftsmanship, historical significance, and unique aesthetic.

1. The History of Armour Gauntlets

Armour gauntlets date back to the medieval period when knights and soldiers wore full suits of armor to defend themselves in combat. The hands, being particularly vulnerable in battle, needed protection, which led to the creation of gauntlets. Initially, these gauntlets were made of leather reinforced with metal plates. However, as armor technology advanced, full-metal gauntlets became more common.

By the 14th century, plate gauntlets were standard for knights and men-at-arms. These gauntlets were carefully crafted to provide both protection and flexibility, allowing the wearer to grip a weapon or hold a shield while maintaining mobility in their fingers. Armour gauntlets were often decorated with intricate designs, showcasing the status and wealth of the knight wearing them.

2. Design and Structure of Armour Gauntlets

Traditional armour gauntlets were made from interlocking plates of steel or iron, designed to mimic the natural movement of the hand. The individual segments of metal were riveted together, allowing each finger to move independently. This flexibility was critical in combat, as knights needed to maintain their dexterity for sword fighting, shield handling, and other battle maneuvers.

The wrist area was typically reinforced with extra protection, as a blow to this region could render the hand useless. Some gauntlets also featured spikes or knuckle protection, which could be used as an offensive weapon in close-quarters combat.

While the design varied depending on the region and period, the most famous styles of armour gauntlets came from Europe. The German "Gothic" style, for instance, was known for its elaborate, pointed designs, while Italian gauntlets were often more rounded and functional.

3. The Role of Gauntlets in Battle

Armour gauntlets played a vital role in medieval combat, as they protected a knight’s hands from direct attacks. Without gauntlets, a knight’s ability to wield a sword or carry a shield would be significantly compromised. In addition to defense, gauntlets could also be used for offense. Some gauntlets were equipped with sharp ridges or spikes that allowed the wearer to punch or strike an opponent if disarmed.

The importance of gauntlets extended beyond just hand-to-hand combat. Archers, crossbowmen, and pikemen also wore lighter versions of gauntlets, ensuring that their hands remained protected while maintaining the agility needed to use their weapons.

4. Armour Gauntlets Today

Though armour gauntlets are no longer used in modern combat, their legacy lives on in several ways. Reenactors, historians, and collectors still treasure these pieces of armor for their craftsmanship and historical significance. Authentic medieval gauntlets, when found, are considered rare and valuable artifacts. Many modern blacksmiths and armorers create reproduction gauntlets for museums, historical events, and collectors who admire the artistry behind medieval armor.

In addition to historical interest, armour gauntlets have made their way into pop culture. Movies, video games, and television shows featuring knights or medieval themes often showcase characters wearing gauntlets as part of their armor. For instance, fantasy franchises like "The Lord of the Rings" and "Game of Thrones" have brought renewed attention to the aesthetics of medieval armory, including gauntlets.

5. Crafting Armour Gauntlets: Then and Now

The creation of armour gauntlets requires a high level of skill, both in the past and today. In medieval times, blacksmiths were responsible for creating armor, including gauntlets, by hand. They used hammers, anvils, and heat to shape metal plates into the desired forms. Crafting a pair of gauntlets could take weeks or even months, as each piece had to fit the wearer perfectly while offering both protection and flexibility.

Today, blacksmiths who specialize in historical reproductions still use traditional methods to create armour gauntlets. Some modern materials, such as stainless steel, have been incorporated into the crafting process to enhance durability and prevent rust. Many artisans also create custom pieces for clients who want unique designs, often incorporating modern motifs into the traditional structure of the gauntlet.

6. The Aesthetic Appeal of Gauntlets

Armour gauntlets are not just functional; they are also admired for their beauty. The craftsmanship involved in creating the intricate designs of the gauntlets, particularly those made for royalty or high-ranking knights, is impressive. Many gauntlets were engraved, embossed, or decorated with patterns, family crests, or symbols of nobility.

Collectors and enthusiasts today appreciate the attention to detail found in historical gauntlets. Whether simple and utilitarian or lavishly ornate, these pieces of armor represent the skill of medieval craftsmen and the power and prestige of the knights who wore them.

7. Conclusion

Armour gauntlets have a long and storied history, playing a crucial role in protecting warriors in battle. Their design and craftsmanship have made them an enduring symbol of medieval knighthood and the art of armory. Though they are no longer used for their original purpose, armour gauntlets continue to fascinate collectors, historians, and pop culture enthusiasts alike.

Whether you’re drawn to their historical significance or simply admire their aesthetic appeal, armour gauntlets remain a timeless piece of medieval history. They serve as a reminder of the artistry and innovation that went into creating protection for warriors in one of history's most storied periods.

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[adventures-of-the-creeping-bam]

NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM,  BOOK FOUR: THE HUNT - CHAPTER 29

If you’re new to the story, please go check out Book 1 first …

Boof 4 Chapter 1 is here …

IMPORTANT:  Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.

If you want to support my writing, feel free to swing by my Patreon or Ko-fi.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE:  SHAYLINE

When Thel shoves Darwyn into my arms I almost just fall back on my arse, she takes me so much by surprise, but I rally myself quick enough to grab hold of her and plant her on her feet as I watch the dwarf start her clumsy run around the corner.  Honestly, I can’t quite believe what I’m watching, but quickly enough the halfling starting to squirm in my grip brings my attention to bear and I remember what she just said.  I give her a squeeze now, hissing in her ear as I try my best not to just crush her.  “Darwyn, chill!  Just wait!”

I’m almost surprised again when she actually does it, going slack in my arms as I shift my weight back onto my knees so I can be ready to spring forward again soon as it’s safe.  Just as I hear the first arrow strike Thel and she stumbles, but doesn’t go down, instead just fighting to right herself as she keeps going, before another one hits her and it’s clear enough she’s taking all the fire now.  So I just shove Darwyn behind me now and dive forward, scrabbling almost on hands and knees to reach Zuldrad’s prone form and expecting with every inch to get an arrow between my ribs for my troubles after all.

Nothing hits me before I reach him, so I just grab hold of his nearest arm and start dragging him.  He starts to squirm almost immediately, letting out a winded but hearty enough scream that’s surprisingly high-pitched to let me know he’s still with us.  I don’t stop, instead doubling my efforts as I grab hold of his shoulder with my other hand, not really registering how warmly wet it is until he cries out again.  I just dig my fingers into the leather of his pauldron and start tugging, pulling him out of the line of fire now as I see Darwyn dropping to her knees in front of us.  Looking more stricken than ever now as she takes in his wretched state.

He's bleeding like a stuck pig, his armour slick wet with blood that makes the leather even more black, and it’s clear enough that whoever shot him was paying close attention and aiming with an expert eye to be able to get around the scattering of plate steel in his gear.  As Darwyn starts to cry harder again I probe at the wounds, seeing his shoulder’s good and torn under the armour much like when Art got hit the other night, while the other three are … oh fuck, these are serious wounds.  No wonder what little breath he’s getting in is so ragged and wet sounding, both of these are in his lungs, and the other one, lower down in his back … gods, that is his liver …

Before I can say anything to Darwyn, even though I don’t have the first clue what to say as I realise her friend’s probably going to die from these wounds, something barrels hard round the corner to smash into the wall next to us.  Something big, I realise now, impossibly big, as big as Driver 8, in fact.  Certainly so massive that the wall, which was already subtly dented with broken, spiderwebbed cracks through the pale plaster from what must have been the termination of Lady Naru’s blast, completely craters under the impact.  I grab hold of Darwyn as broken shards of plaster and stone rain down around us, along with a thin haze of billowing dust, and just bear her down against the floor again.

Whatever it is grunts loud as it flounders, and when I chance a look my blood runs cold as I realise I’ve seen this before – I remember the armoured ogre from the other night, but it’s no less terrifying now, and right now it’s the worst thing we could possibly have run into.  I almost grab firmer hold of Darwyn and start to drag her away, hoping it’s busy enough with extracting itself from the broken stone of the wall it won’t notice us, but remembering Zuldrad stops me.  He’s not dead yet, I still have a responsibility for him …

Then the ogre rolls back and lands on its backside heavily enough to shake the whole place, and when it sits up I swear it’s looking right at me with bright eyes that seem far too intelligent.  For a moment it just blinks back at me, seeming more surprised than we are as it just takes us both in … then its eyes narrow  and it lowers its helmed head as it bares its oversized  teeth and starts to growl.  Still a genuine threat then.

Certainly I feel in very real danger, particularly once I realise I don’t currently have a weapon in hand while I’m here on my knees, very much at this beast’s mercy right now.  Sure, I could grab Darwyn and just run, but that would mean leaving Zuldrad, and I just can’t do it, even if I have a feeling he would probably prefer If I saved his friend instead of him.  Which means staying where I am, and fighting.  My eyes flicker to my stolen sword, dumped without ceremony a few feet out of reach without stretching, and right now I know that …

When I look up I see the ogre’s followed my gaze, now very much aware of what I’ve been thinking, and I know now my time’s run out.  My heart starts to pound harder in my chest than it has all night, even when we were running through the theatre, and I can feel the cold, charged surge of adrenaline pumping through me now, ready to give me a burst of speed.  Should I choose to lunge for the sword to defend us both as I’m seriously considering, even though I know it would be of no use at all against this enemy.  If this thing charges we’re both flattened.

Then it starts to shift and I stop really thinking now, instead shoving Darwyn down with one hand while I stretch to scrape the sword up with the other … just as I feel tiny clawed hands and feet scramble up and over my arched back, something small but agile and very quick using my shoulders as a launching platform, only letting a feral little snarl go as they leap.  When I look up again I see Brung spring at the ogre, which actually reels back as its eyes widen, mostly just surprise but it’s still sudden enough to take a little of the fight out of it, at least for a moment.  Which is all he needs as he plucks the knife from his teeth and lands on its face, grabbing hold of the helmet and starting to slash away at whatever it can that’s exposed.  The attack lasts for bare seconds before the beast recovers enough wits to whip its gigantic hand across its face, and he’s brushed away, turning over as he tumbles to barely land on all fours.

The ogre looks really pissed when it raises that hand again and tenses its arm to bring it down on him in a great, crushing smash, but in the same moment I hear something behind me … or perhaps I feel it, or more accurately both, knowing Lady Naru’s close behind me now without needing to look.  Speaking an incantation as something bright is hurled at our would-be attacker, a bundle of something wild and chaotic, a fizzing, dancing blur of rainbow light and sparks that seems to burst apart at the ogre’s feet before flaring upwards.  Suddenly the air’s filled with a great hissing, humming whistle that seems to fluctuate as the sparks start to dance upwards, while the rainbow light stretches and weaves up and around the startled beast in bright, twisting tendrils.  The noise builds into a harsh buzz which starts to hurt my ears, then there’s a final flare while the air seems to pop …

Altogether it’s so bright and loud I reel back, I can’t help it, dropping the sword again as I cover my face with my arms, but when I chance a look again, blinking the after-image out of my eyes, all I see is an absence.  The ogre’s nowhere to be seen, all there is left is a few scattered sparks that seem to pop and fizz out of existence low in the air where it was.

Once again, when I turn to look at her Lady Naru’s having to lean against her staff for support, although this time she doesn’t look anywhere near as worn as she did when she blasted the corridor behind us.  She’s still left breathing heavily, but the fit seems to pass quickly enough, and she manages a slightly wan smile.

“Bloody hell …”  I get myself up onto both knees again as I look her over, knowing I’m probably regarding her with something like awe right now.  “Now what did you do?”

Frowning a little, the sorcerer considers for a moment.  “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure.  I just … well, I shunted them somewhere else.  I didn’t really have enough time to focus on a specific destination, so I really can’t bank on where they’ll land.  Somewhere high, that was about all I could really manage.  It’s possible they might hit the ground with a significant amount of force.”

My eyes go a little wider at that, and I’m a beat finding words to reply, but when I do I know I’m smiling a little, although I don’t really know how it’ll actually read.  “That was … you know you can be bloody scary sometimes.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, she pushes herself more upright again, looking past me to Zuldrad as the last of her good humour leaks away.  There’s worry, but a regret too, and perhaps something a little darker.  “Oh … damn it … Shay, I can’t mend that.  He needs a proper healer.  We have to do something now.”

“We do, yeah.”  I turn to look him over myself, as Darwyn just doubles over him, laying her head against his shoulder now while he seems to be breathing shallower still.  I can see so much of his blood soaking into the carpet right now …  “We have to get to that fucking door.  If we get it open Krakka’s right on the other side.  He can fix this.  And we’ll have all the reinforcements we’d need.”  I turn back to Lady Naru.  “Can you get it open?  I mean we don’t actually know what’s wrong with it –”

“It depends what Tavarrat’s actually done.  It could be as simple as removing an enchantment, or it could be horribly complex, I might need to work at it for a while.  There’s just no way to know until I arrive.”

“Well if we are gonna do something, we better do it now.”  Hearing Thel’s voice now, after seeing her charge around the corner, makes me look up, wondering what she’s doing back, and I find her stood just inside the cover of the wall now, Brung stood beside her.  Inspecting the knife in his clawed hand, the blade of which is, I notice, conspicuously clean of blood.  Not that I would have expected him to have actually been able to cut the ogre’s stone-hard skin.

She’s in one piece, at least, and I don’t see any arrows stuck in her, although I see a few more conspicuously bright nicks and scratches marking the plates of her armour.  Bearing the brunt of the archer’s shots, I suspect.  It wouldn’t surprise me if it was that halfling I remember from the Heath, one of Mallys’ mercenaries.  Certainly given the presence of that fucking ogre …

Getting to my feet now, I step up to the corner myself, looking her over for a moment before taking a deep breath and glancing out into the open beyond.  Wondering what could possibly convince her to turn back right now, even after that great hulking beast was removed from the mix.

There are several more figures stood at the far end of the passage than I would have expected, especially after Lady Naru took so many out in one fell swoop with that crazy spell of hers.  But this group … they’re a more eclectic mix, and I recognise many of them, too.

That diminutive archer’s there, just as I expected, but I see the imori too, stood out in the open like he doesn’t have a care in the world.  Waiting with his lethal sabre and dagger already drawn in anticipation of an attack.  I catch sight of that hedge wizard too, the one from the Heath, stood near the front with his staff tilted towards us, and while he still looks like a stiff breeze could knock him down I’ve learned not to judge with mages by their appearance.

Vandryss is there too, Tavarrat at her side, both skulking at the back with that young half-orc I fought the other night while Kesla crossed swords with Mallys for the first time.  I don’t know if he recognises me from there, but I lean out long enough for them to at least register me before I pull back.

It’s the one in front that makes me pause for longer than I intended, just long enough for the halfling to draw her bow again as she crouches off to the side, preparing to take aim on me and finally making me slip out of sight again.  I don’t recognise that one, but it doesn’t take much imagination for me to work out who he is.  Part of it’s just going off what I learned from Kesla in description after she met him, but to be honest it couldn’t really be anyone else.

Orric Jammund is, to be honest, exactly as I expected him to be.  He’s as world-worn as all the other former pirates I’ve run into, both tonight and this afternoon at the Late Bone, but he still wears it so much better.  There’s something larger-than-life about the way he just stands there, hand casually laid on the hilt of his still-sheathed sabre, almost slouching as he cocks his head to the side, that suggests he doesn’t have any more care in the world than the imori shadowing him.  Like what’s happening right now is just inconveniencing him.  To my eye … honestly, there’s nothing about him that looks like an overt threat, and yet somehow, every inch of him still feels like one.

Before I pull back I mark one more thing, too.  Remembering the layout of this lowest of the underground floors here in the cellar, I know that to get where I need to go, I have to get through them.  The passage turning off at the end of this one branches off at its end in two opposite directions, one of which leads to the tunnels entrance.  But directly behind them now, there’s the room we should find Gael in, and likely her father too, at least according to that woman, Sal.  They’re so close now … just realising this now almost makes me charge out into the open without further thought.  Except it’s clear enough that would be very bad …

“Shit …”  I hiss under my breath and I lean back against the wall, letting my head drop back.

Lady Naru’s watching me, concerned now.  “What is it –”

“Hello there?”  The voice is gruffer than I would’ve imagined, but then I suppose a lifetime of salt-air and shouting orders on a rolling deck would probably do some damage.  More than that, there’s something about it … I don’t know why, but just hearing it makes the fine hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand up.  Like the air just before a particularly powerful storm, out in the high places in the Reaches.  “Can I have a word?”

My eyes meet the sorcerer’s now, and she just frowns deeper, looking past me to the corner.  Wary now, which can’t be a good sign.  I take a deep breath through my nose and shift as close as I can to the edge without exposing myself, then clear my throat.  “Not unless the little one puts down that bow, I’m afraid.  And the hedge can fuck off, too.”

“No, I don’t reckon that’ll do, luv.  Well, s’pose we can hear each other well enough from here.  Where’s the big one?  I would’ve expected her to be leading the charge.”

Gritting my teeth, I bite back my retort and just press on.  “What do you want, Jammund?  If you knew what was good for you you’d just surrender now, it’ll save you a lot of grief.”

“Really?  You sure ‘bout that, luv?  Far as we can tell you’re more’n a few short for that.  The rest o’ you are still conspicuously stuck out in the tunnels.  I’d be real interested to see what you got planned makes you so confident all of a sudden.”

Hissing a curse under my breath, I turn back to Lady Naru and beckon her over.  She comes quickly, leaning in close so I can whisper low.  “Can you do that thing you did before again?  The way you cleared this corridor, I mean.”

Looking into space for a moment, her eyes seem to go glassy before she blinks again and then shakes her head.  “No, not with those mages there.  If it was just the hedge wizard I might have caught them unaware like the others, but I hazard a guess that’s Tavarrat in the back.  She would make that … too difficult, I should think.”

Fighting the growl that wants to come now, I still grit my teeth as I instead wonder:  “What about Big Man?  Any chance you could summon him in here?  You know, like a reversal of what you did with the ogre?”

“I’m sorry, Shay, but it doesn’t work like that.  I just banished them, it’s not really a spell built for a great amount of nuance.  And even if I could there’s nowhere near enough room in here for that to –"

“Tell you what, luv.”  Jammund runs right over her now.  “I’ll give you … let’s see, how ‘bout we say another … minute to pull back, send word to yours out there that they’re to do the same so you can all just fuck off right now, an’ maybe your pointy-eared friend’ll live to see another sunrise after all.  Way things’re going right now their time’s getting real short.”

I barely manage to keep from snapping a hasty insult back, and my fingers still audibly tighten all on their own around the hilt of the sword as it is.  I shoot a look at Lady Naru’s staff, then to Brung and Thel each, trusting her to work out what I mean, then turn back before bothering to watch her reaction.  “Yeah, you know what, Jammund?  That won’t do either.  Right now you not doing that’s the only thing keeping me from cutting you to pieces the moment I reach you.  If you were to tempt fate any more I’d have to get nasty.  How long did you say?  A minute?  That’ll be less than that now for you to make a decision on the matter, I should think.”

Lady Naru hisses low, no real word, just showing her regard to this, but she still leans in close to start whispering to Thel.  Meanwhile I start to pull back from the corner, taking a breath as I move towards Darwyn, still slumped beside the stricken hobgoblin.  Setting my stolen weapon aside, I drop to my knee beside her.

“Listen here, I don’t reckon you’re hearin’ me, girl.  You can’t win this, you ain’t got the numbers, an’ you definitely ain’t got enough magic, not with just one mage, we got you outclassed there.  All you’re doing is wasting your time, and your friend’s time too.  You’re getting ‘em killed.  Just go.  Now.  While you still can.”

Trying not to let him fray my nerves, I just grit my teeth and reach out, laying my hand against Darwyn’s back, high up, slowly moving my fingers to start massaging the nape of her neck, gentle as I can be.  Keeping my voice soft, whispering low to her alone.  “Darwyn?  Please, I need you to buck up and get your shit together.  We need you.  Right now.”

For a long moment she doesn’t respond, quiet and still enough I start to worry that she might have been fundamentally broken by this, her friend’s time is ticking away so quickly now, his chances so slim they’re almost non-existent.  I feel so cold and cruel and fucking heartless just having to ask this right now, but I have no choice, we need her.  Just like Jammund said, we don’t have the numbers, and if she is broken then we have one less.

Then she finally stirs, stiffening a little under my hand while she slowly raises her head.  She doesn’t turn to face me, in the end she just gives me a bare glance through the corner of her eyes, the slimmest of eye contact.  Her hair hangs around her face, I can barely see the state of it now, but it’s clear enough to me how fraught she is now, barely a shell of herself.  “Leave me alone.”  She breathes the words so low I almost miss them.

“Gods damn it … Darwyn, I’m sorry, but I can’t.  I mean it, we need you now –”

Turning fast, she smacks my hand away as she rounds on me, and suddenly her grief is changing into anger, she’s almost fiery with rage now as she confronts me.  “Fuck you!”  She still only hisses the words, somehow managing to exert enough control on herself to keep from raising her voice, but there’s so much force in her speech even so.  “Fuck you for this, I can’t do this now, I gotta help him.  I can’t leave my friend, look at this, look what they done to him, I gotta stay with him –”

My hand moves without me really thinking about it first, it flies almost on its own as I slap her with a restrained back-hander that nonetheless still makes her stumble as she reels back and almost falls.  Not stunned, she’s just shocked by what I’ve done, as much as I am and I’m sure it’s writ large across my face.  But I don’t go back on it now, clenching my teeth as I suck a fresh breath in and trying to close my face off.  “Stop it.  I mean it, we don’t have time for this.  Gael hasn’t got time, if we don’t move now they’re going to kill them.”  I reach out again, grabbing her shoulder and dragging her close, and she doesn’t resist me, likely still too startled to fight back.  So I press my advantage.  “Fucking listen to me, if you want Zul to survive this you’re going to help us.  His only hope is on the other side of that door, at the end of this bloody maze, Krakka’s out there and he needs us to open the way for him.  Do you understand me?”

Slowly, as her eyes start to fill with tears again, she reaches up to her face, pressing her fingers to her jaw and cheek which are already red from my strike.  Part of me is desperate to apologise to her for it, but I bite it off, just hoping I’ve gotten through to her.  Finally she blinks, and while the gathered tears run she doesn’t break down this time, instead standing up straight while her face starts to harden.  Even so, her voice still wobbles, a little cracked.  “I’m … I’m sorry.  You’re right.  I’m with you.  I just …”

My eyes flicker to Zuldrad for a moment, still crumpled on the floor close by, his breath slow and faint and rasping, his face so pale.  There’s very little time left to him, now.  I really hope I’m right, that there still is some tiny hope for him, as much for her sake now as for him.  “I promise … I promise you, this is his best chance.  Are you ready?”

Sniffing hard, she wipes her face as clean as she can with the heel of her glove, which is still bloody enough it smears fresh gore onto her cheeks while blotting the tears.  But her expression is a lot harder now, more determined, the anger returning to her now.  She slips both of her longest knives free from their scabbards and takes a deep breath, which only hitches a little.  “Yeah.  I am fucking ready.  I wanna kill something.”

Letting a more relieved sigh go, I reach over to drag the sword back up from the floor, then as I’m looking at it I consider for a moment before starting to scan our immediate surroundings, hoping maybe I can find something a little more suitable for me here.  Maybe one of the unfortunate bastards here had a blade I can put to better use than this heavy, unwieldy thing.  But even as I start looking I realise it’s a long shot, there are smaller swords here but nothing that looks remotely worth my time.  Most of the steel here’s workmanlike at best, and I just don’t trust it.  Looks like I’m stuck with this thing for now.

As I get to my feet again I give Lady Naru a look, and find she’s already starting to weave a sigil, which looks like another complicated one.  She doesn’t look too happy about it, but she still holds her tongue as she meets my gaze, instead tightening her grip on her staff with her other hand and turning to look where we have to go.  Steeling herself now.

Thel’s just breathing heavy, her heavily armoured shoulders rising and falling in a particularly intimidating fashion with each pull and push, while her brow is tightly knitted and her face dark as she watches the sorcerer.  Gripping her axe tight in her hands, held low and ready for violence.  Ready to charge.

Brung looks up at me now, cocking his head somewhat like a small dog would, and while I still can’t read his expression at all, the gesture feels like a query.  Breathing out slow, I just give him a little nod, and I think he reads it right as he turns to step up beside the dwarf, drawing his shortsword again in anticipation.

Jammund’s voice comes again from out of sight:  “You still there?  I mean I know you are.  You really ain’t thinking it through, are you?  You ain’t got a dog’s chance in this fight, luv.  This ain’t gonna go right for you at all.”  He sighs loud enough for me to catch, but I doubt there’s any more sincerity in it than any of the feigned regret he’s putting on.  “Last chance, girl.  Count o’ ten.  Nine.  Eight.  Seven –”

“Now …”  I barely breathe it to Lady Naru, but she responds instantly, muttering an incantation which makes the sigil flare warm yellow, then split in two, seeming to float in front of her as she now immediately pushes out into the open.  Already raising her staff, which seems to gleam for just a blink, like there’s a sparking light that rides up its length from the butt to its very tip in the space of a blink, and when the top starts to glow I know it wasn’t any kind of trick of the light.  She raises it in both hands, already aiming it as she steps out, and I just follow right behind as I break into a tight, crouching charge at her side.

The first thing I hear as we emerge is the shunting twang of the loosening bowstring, but I’m already starting to wind up my first swing, so as the halfling’s arrow streaks towards me I’m sharp enough to cut it in two in mid-air before it can do any harm.  Then Sulin unleashes whatever the spell is she’s built up in her staff and for a moment I’m blinded, the ensuing flash is so bright it’s a miracle I don’t stumble on the spot in sheer disorientation.  Instead I just soldier on, continuing to charge in the same direction I’ve been heading, hoping I don’t blunder into her or the nearest wall as I work on blinking my eyes clear again.

My eyesight clears within bare moments, the bright blur shifting enough I can at least make out a vague picture of what’s going on, and I can see more than a few of the people ahead of us are stumbling back, seemingly even more blinded and disoriented than I was.  As if she somehow managed to shield me at the last as she cast the spell, although I don’t have the first clue how.  The imori seems the most stricken, all but doubled over while he grips his head with his offhand, hissing and snarling in clear pain, but I see Jammund’s taken a strong hit too.  And he was always where I planned on aiming anyway …

Then Thel slips around me and sprints forward, already starting to roar a fierce battle-cry which I’m not sure is really wise if she plans on taking advantage of them being momentarily blinded.  On the other side, just through the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Brung bounding up on the other side, managing to keep pace with her as he uses his free hand too to propel him along faster … then the sorcerer stops for a single beat, dropping out of sight now as I keep going, but the two hovering sigils both suddenly streak out ahead of her.  Heading straight for both of them.

Yeah … granted, this was technically my plan, but now I’m very much realising that not actually discussing it means I have no idea what she’s actually doing here.  So when the floating bundles of strange glowing yellow lines, squiggles and dots inexplicably drop down to whip under their feet, I’m a little startled when their next steps see them both suddenly fall into them.  Almost as if the split spell just opened gaping holes in the floor, and they both just vanish from sight.

This time I really do falter on the spot, seeing that is just too much for me in the moment, and as I stumble to a halt I blink again as I start to cast about for where they’ve gone.  Just as two more of these strange glowing “holes” appear in the air on the far side of the group ahead, and they both immediately drop through.  Ah, yeah … okay, I understand it now.  That‘s actually bloody brilliant.  For a moment I almost expect them to start cutting into the momentarily disoriented figures around them, but instead they just keep on running, quickly turning the corner at the bottom of the passage and vanishing from sight.  Already heading for the tunnel entrance.

Then Jammund blinks a few more times, wiping his eyes with thumb and forefinger, and finally squints a little as he starts to focus again … and his eyes find me much quicker than I would have expected.  His already well-furrowed brows crease further as they look me up and down, then he cocks one of them as one corner of his mouth starts to tick upwards.  He takes a step forward now, reaching across and drawing his sword in an almost languid motion, like he wants to take his time with this, and his smile starts to grow.

You’d be that half-orc, I take it?  It’s interesting, Van could’ve sworn she killed you already, there was some doubt whether or not you were the same one.  But seeing you now, reckon it’s a lot easier to believe.”

Through the corner of my eye, I see Lady Naru step up to the imori and, with a deft spin of her staff, comes very close to knocking him to the floor.  He’s barely with it enough after his own brief blinding to duck aside, baring a mouthful of particularly scary teeth at her with a low hiss as he dances back, but he’s watching her with cold wariness now.  Regarding her as a proper threat now, but not attacking yet, his eyes instead flickering to Jammund, like he’s checking to see what he does first.  The sorcerer gives the stave a more showy flourish before tapping it to the floor beside her, drawing herself up to her full height to the side between me and the pirate, and gives him a cool look.  He returns it, still looking surprisingly unfazed.

“You’re an interesting one too, I don’t mind saying.  Real easy on the eyes.” He sneers at her for a moment, before turning back to me.  “Truth be told, though, I’m more interested in this one.  I’m curious to see how well she dances.”

“What makes you think I’d give you the chance?”  the sorcerer hisses now, her striking eyes narrowing as her lips draw tight.  “Despite what you might suppose, you are the one who’s outclassed.”

“No, you need to go.”  I growl, watching Jammund now as he ignores her, still focused on me as he takes a half-step back into a very strong ready-guard.  It’s enough to make me follow suit too, since I intended to do this anyway.  “Get that door open, let the others in.  Go fast.”

There’s a moment I think she might argue, but in the end she just steps back, taking her staff up in both hands while giving me a dark sidelong glare.  “Damn it …”

“I’ll stay with you.”  Darwyn’s  tensed low on my other side, looking up at Jammund with both her knives cocked and ready.  She looks close to furious right now, enough that diminutive as she is she still looks like a genuine threat in her own right.  “Help you cut this puffed up pirate down to size.”

“No, you go with her.”  I turn back to Jammund.  “He’s mine.  Besides, I’m going for Gael.”

His brow quirks a little higher at that, his head tilting a little as he looks me over with a more critical eye now.  “You got no chance o’ getting past, luv.  Just me or the lot of us, we’ll cut you all down before you get halfway.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.”  I shoot Lady Naru a quick sidelong look and hiss:  “Go!”

As Jammund blinks, starting to frown a little, Lady Naru just lunges past me as she ducks down and grabs hold of Darwyn’s wrist.  Now he starts to twig, and as his eyes narrow while he lunges forward she just speaks that strange soundless sensory word while the halfling doesn’t even have a chance to try and struggle, barely even managing to squeak:  “Wait –”  before they’re both gone.

I don’t even bother trying to follow where they’re going to now as I just take advantage of the old pirate’s momentary distraction as his intended target just vanishes right in front of him in that strange gaping half-glimpsed emptiness, the tiny prowler along with her.  I lunge forward and whip the sword around low, hoping to get under his arm on the left, thinking I might be able to cut him open under the ribs and maybe end the fight before it’s had a chance to start.

Except he darts aside just as suddenly as I’m coming for him, and while he’s clumsy about it, caught out and almost throwing himself away from my blade, his footwork is smooth enough he almost makes it look effortless enough it could have fooled a lesser fighter.  I have to plant my feet and draw back into a wary guard in order to keep from overbalancing myself, but at least he’s in no position to take advantage of me in turn, instead taking two more large steps back, bringing him close to the wall now as he regards me with a much more cautious eye.

Now I hear more commotion further down the corridor, almost enough to make me shift my attention that way just long enough to check what’s happening, but I know well enough that it’s the rest of them trying to muster as Lady Naru comes out on the other side.  I manage to catch a rather harried oath of:  “For fuck’s sake, hold on!”  from Darwyn, then a deafening crack as there’s a less bright flash from that direction, followed by the sound of at least a couple of stumbling bodies, and more swearing.

I just hold my ground, my eyes still locked on Jammund as I take a wary step back and to the side again, uncomfortably aware now that I’m the only one still here on this side of their group.  Knowing full well that if I have miscalculated this I could well be overwhelmed in a matter of moments.

Thankfully he’s taking a chance as he shoots a sidelong glance to check on the unfolding scene, which gives me enough confidence to do the same.  Beyond him I catch sight of a smouldering, smoking crater in the middle of the passage, where the hedge wizard is starting to push himself up while the halfling looks ready to spit as she inspects her now smashed and ruined bow.  The imori’s just focusing on me though, carefully edging his way around Jammund’s side now as he holds his sword low and seems to be looking for an opportunity for his own attack.  Damn it … that’s not what I was hoping for …

“Fucking bitch … oh for … ORRIC!!!”  The frustration is sharp in Vandryss’ voice, her thick Tektehran accent giving it a particularly harsh edge, and while I can’t really see her through the haze of the smoke from the spell’s aftermath I’m sure she’s glaring daggers right now.  “Just end this shit!  It’s time!”

His eyes narrow as he growls something low and angry under his breath I can’t make out, but he’s focusing on me again.  “Oh for … just go!  I’ll hold this one here, I need you both to go!  Follow the plan, like we discussed!”

“What?”  This time it’s Tavarrat who speaks up, and I can hear a subtle edge of desperation in her voice.  “No, we can’t … I’m not leaving you!  Don’t be stupid Orric, just –”

“I fuckin’ mean it, Luthan!  Leave now!”

“Shit!”  I actually hear Vandryss spit, she does it with such ferocity, then she starts barking orders at the mercenaries around her with genuine fury.  “You lot!  Fucking get after them!  Right now, just do the job you were bloody hired for!  Stop them now, preferably permanently, like you’re supposed to!”

For a moment the hedge wizard and halfling just look at each other, then back at her, like they don’t understand the order, then he hefts his staff and reaches out with his free hand, offering it to her.  She looks at it for a long beat, and I know immediately what that’s about, making it instantly clear that she feels the same about porting as I do.  Then she shakes her head and takes hold, although she’s wincing as she does it … then he speaks his incantation and they’re both gone.  Leaving the imori, who’s looking back now, seeming to be wondering about his own role as he then turns back to me, baring his teeth as he must consider staying after all.

Beyond I can see the rest of them, the haze finally thinning enough again, catching sight of Tavarrat already making for the door behind them, reaching for the lock while Vandryss grabs hold of the half-orc before he can follow my friends.  Instead she drags him after as the warlock unlocks the door and stares out towards Jammund with a pining look for a beat while the other two enter before ducking through herself.

“Master Ixen, if you would, reckon your mates’d appreciate your company.”  Jammund hisses now, still maintaining eye contact with me.

“What?”  His face isn’t the only thing about him that seems more snakelike than anything else, his voice more of a rasping hiss than true speech, while his accent’s the thickest Abharetian I’ve ever heard.  “No, I’m here to fight, and this one here will give me –”

“I have this.”  There’s a cool warning to Jammund’s tone now as he lets more of a growl enter his voice.  “You heard my colleague, go do your job.  Y’already took the money, go and fucking earn it.  Before they let the rest of ‘em in here and complicate matters.”

The way the imori looks at me now makes it abundantly clear he wants so badly to ignore him and just come at me, and I find myself tensing in anticipation as a fresh tingle of bitter adrenaline starts coursing through me.  I wonder what Jammund would actually do if he did, if he’d just back off and let it happen, follow his friends or go after mine instead, or if he’d use the distraction and gang up on me with this terrifying beast.  Neither likelihood much appeals to me – even on his own I genuinely don’t know if I actually could stand against this one …

“Fuck …”  Taking a long step back, this Ixen fellow starts to withdraw with a frustrated growl, baleful bright eyes narrow as he keeps then locked on me, finally pointing his sword my way as he adds:  “Maybe our paths will cross again, I would certainly hope so.  Until then …”  He watches us both for several more crabbing steps before finally turning and breaking into a run in the same direction the rest of his crew went.

Unable to restrain myself, I clear my throat and yell out with all I can:  “SULIN!!!  DARWYN!!!  WATCH YOUR BACKS!!!  THERE’S MORE COMING!!!”

Jammund cocks his brow, that crooked little smile returning now.  “Mind what’s in front o’ you, lass.  Your fight’s here, not with them.”

Vandryss going through that door instead of following the others makes me uncomfortable, whether she went with Tavarrat or not.  After the threats this bastard made towards Gael, it worries me greatly that they’ve gone to do awful harm to my friend, enough that I’m already starting to regret my decision to stay here for a one-on-one fight instead.  I have to fight my way through him to get to them now, while that cruel bitch could have killed them already.  I don’t have time for this.

So I just growl:  “I’ve got wits enough for you.”  under my breath, shifting my stolen sword forward in a low two-handed guard … and charge him.

His eyes widen considerably as I rush him with my sword already swinging, letting me know I’ve caught him unaware enough at least for a chance as he takes another step back and starts to twist, trying to parry my stroke.  So I turn it into a feint as I suddenly duck left and run up the wall to get my foot up high enough to launch myself with sufficient force to bring my sword down swift and heavy on him from above.

Only for him to turn into it with a startled grunt and bring his sword up just in time to catch the blow across its flat, bringing his other hand up at the last to firm his grip up a little.  In the end the force of my intended blow still drives both of our blades down far enough he has to bend significantly to his side to keep my edge from cutting high into his shoulder after all, finally stopping it a bare inch short of biting home.  I grit my teeth and push harder, trying to force it into him after all, but he’s stronger than I originally expected, his rangy limbs holding surprising power despite his clear age.  He’s straining as hard as I am, but holding up impressively well.

In the end it starts to feel like a stalemate, and while I know I could probably win in a battle of attrition if I decided to just wait him out I just can’t afford the time right now.  So I finally pull back quick with a frustrated snarl and spring away to open up space between us, mindful in case he can muster enough speed to attack after all while I withdraw.  Instead he just staggers back a step himself, gasping as he sucks in fresh breath, instead just winded for the moment but strong enough at least to keep his sword up now, pointing it at me with a steady enough hand to keep me beyond arm’s length as he composes himself.

His eyes dancing as he regards me.  “That was … sneaky, you got some moves.  Strong too.”

Narrowing my eyes, I don’t answer him, instead just taking a few steps to the side, approaching the wall again.  Not quite enough room to circle, not in this relatively tight corridor.  Judging what moves are actually available to me right now, since he’s clearly shown he’s got some talent of his own.  He just watches me, getting his breathing under control again, and I see the wheels turning behind his eyes now, thinking like I am.  Evaluating the threat, adjusting his plan accordingly.  Meanwhile my overall problem remains the same, I still have to get past him.

So I suck in a frustrated breath through my teeth and take a step closer before planting my feet, keeping my sword low now as I loosen my grip up a little.  Watching his eyes.

I don’t have to wait long, catching his quick glance to my right just before he lunges and twisting accordingly, but staying loose in case it’s a clever feint instead.  But he comes in as I expected, and as I dance aside I bring my sword round, hoping to cut him down while he’s still turning in response.  Except that he twists aside when I swat my blade towards him, ducking under my stinging slash before wheeling about on wide feet and trying to cut up under my defences after.  I have to spring back to avoid the blow, and skip away with my heart in my mouth, finally winding up with my back to the wall once I’ve opened enough distance between us.

Slowly realising I’m past him now, I risk a quick glance up the corridor that’s now behind me, empty save for the charring from Lady Naru’s spell marking the carpet and bottom of the wall.  Nothing between me and the door now, then.  I could just run for it right now.

Except he’s still too spry for me to risk turning my back on him right now, and as I narrow my eyes he must work out what I’m thinking.  He takes the first step towards me, cautious even as he gives his sword a cocky little flourish, and I grit my teeth as I step away from the wall, lowering the sword so it just hangs loose at my side as I wait for him on looser feet.  Trying a different approach now.

Cocking his head, he pauses for a long moment as he looks me over again.  Reevaluating me.  I fight the urge to growl in frustration and take a few light, dancing steps towards him, hoping he’ll just take the bait and end my waiting.

Instead he just frowns, the smile fading quickly as he takes a wary step to his side, starting to crouch as he lowers his sword too, letting me come in, so I slow my approach, not planting my feet yet but continuing to bait him as I wait just outside easy reach.  Trying to open my jaw now as I fight to keep myself loose.

When he comes this time he moves with more caution, but with a similar lightness of step that almost makes me miss the feint when he makes it.  His sword comes swift enough I nearly miss the swipe, so I just stop thinking and respond, and while my own stolen blade is heavy and really not built for wielding one-handed, it parries quick and clean enough to make him dance back.  I press before he can entirely recover, aiming a few swift, darting jabs at his centre of mass while I jump forward, keeping loose as I step with light feet, hoping I can harry him into the wall now as he backs up while striking each jab aside.

Instead he finally wheels aside, again trading places with me as the limited width of the passage makes true circling difficult.  This time when he backs up he doesn’t leave me waiting long, coming quick with a high attack that I don’t bother trying to parry, instead just ducking aside and rushing past him to open another gap between us.  As he turns I skip backwards on the balls of my feet, beckoning him in with my free hand.

This time when he frowns at me for a beat before letting a wary huff go and then charging I plant my feet firm at the last and step back onto my trailing foot, extending the sword before me in a firm, locked thrust pointed directly at his chest.  He barely manages to arrest his charge enough to stumble aside, and when he staggers into the wall I break out of my stance with sharp, hungry speed, swinging the sword in a deft flourish while I wind up my attack, bringing my other hand up to add strength to the stroke.

He stays where he is, likely realising when he sees me coming he doesn’t have time or good enough footing to spring aside so he just swings his sword up into his free hand to meet my stroke.  He just manages to get it up in time, stopping my blade again, and we lock up, him gritting his teeth after finally managing to plant his feet as he fights to keep me a bare blade’s width shy while I again strive to drive my own edge into him, this time going for his throat.  The steel between us scrapes and squeals under the strain we’re putting on it, but both blades are too well made, and we’re too evenly matched in strength still, so neither of us are going to win a shoving match.

Growling low in my face, the tendons standing right out in his throat while his face is flushing red, a condition I suspect is frustratingly is similar to my own right now,Jammund snarls:  “For Thorin’s sake … what exactly is the fucking plan here, luv?  You tryin’ to wear me down?  It’s starting to look like you’re getting’ tired as me right now …”

“Oh … will you just … shut the fuck up?”  I try to shove a little harder, but it’s like I have no more strength to give, every joint in me seems to be locked tight while all my muscles, from my arms and back right down to my thighs and calves, are screaming for this to just be over.  He’s got a point, I don’t know how much more of this I can actually take.

Seems like he’s trying to do much the same thing, working on bringing his right arm up now but only succeeding in turning his wrist a bit to raise his elbow a foot or so, while his breath is a tight, wheezing hiss … then he lets out a winded snarl at the same time that his whole upper body twists.  We’re locked so tight together right now I can’t do anything in response, the movement’s so sudden I just wind up going with his motion so the sword gripped like a vice by my fingers jumps up and to the right, driven hard into the wall by his head.  The edge bites into the plaster with a squeaking scrape that shrieks in my ears and I’m immediately overbalances as I have to stretch to prevent the weapon from getting torn right out of my grip.  Meanwhile he twists out of our broken lock, dragging his own sword down with wicked speed as he does so.  And I’m not wearing a single scale of armour …

The only thing that saves me from getting carved right open on the spot is timing, my momentum spinning me around as I’m thrown aside so that his blade glances me with a fairly shallow cut that mostly just slices meat.  Even so, the pain is instant and significant, a line of white hot agony opening under my left arm, and pure survival instinct takes over as I stumble away, almost falling as I wheel away from him.  The only mercy is that suddenly my breathing comes easier as the corset’s significantly loosened,  but as I feel hot wetness immediately start to spread over my hip and leg my head starts to go light as I realise that’s my blood.  Shit … not again, I just got over the last time …

Stumbling away, I keep moving to try and open some ground between us until my back meets the wall and my legs almost give out under me.  I let myself collapse just enough to start clawing some focus back, but I can’t breathe in anywhere near as deep as I’d like while my side flares with fresh pain from each expansion of my ribs.  It’s making it hard enough to concentrate, but when I finally chance a look down I see that my whole left leg’s already slick with blood, the cloth of my skirts a much darker shade of red than the dress Lady Naru fashioned.  I reach up now with my shaking hand and try to staunch the flow, but I can’t manage much more than a prod before a greater agony lights up right through me and I actually swoon for a moment, barely managing to keep from collapsing on the spot.  Somehow I claw my way back to full consciousness but it’s a hard thing indeed.

Fuck … he actually did some damage here, more than any other time tonight I’m thoroughly lamenting the fact that I was forced to come here with no bloody armour at all.  Even a few layers of light boiled leather would surely have been better than this …

The only real saving grace for me right now is that Jammund hasn’t attacked while I’ve been comprehensively distracted, but then when I finally manage to blink enough to regain focus I can see he’s still doubled against the other wall.  He’s still breathing heavily, his sword barely gripped in loose fingers hung at his side while he’s propped on his knee with the other hand, only now raising his head to look my way as he pants away.  He looks pretty pissed off, but there’s real weariness there in his face too, showing me that, while he clearly wants to murder me more than ever before, right now he can’t actually muster the strength to do it.  Unfortunately I’m almost certain he’s going to get his second wind significantly before I do.

Meanwhile time keeps on slipping through my fingers as I remember that I can’t afford to keep floundering here right now.  Never mind that I’m clearly hurting, I still need to finish this quickly.  So I grit my teeth and mentally prepare myself for what I know I have to do as I force my legs to straighten out a little more, my back too, drawing myself back up to something like my proper height as I try to tighten my grip on my stolen sword … then jam my hand firmly down against the wound in my side and barely manage to bite back the rising scream as the sudden flare of more acute pain wakes me right up again.  I push myself away from the wall in the same moment and strive forward, my first steps a very clumsy stagger before I start to wrestle a little more focus and balance into my movements.  Letting the sword drag by its point on the floor for the moment as I force myself forward a step at a time, saving what strength I have for when I actually need it.

Jammund sees me coming, of course, his eyes narrowing as he lets another winded grunt out, and he shoves himself up too, starting to shift around me as he stumbles into the middle of the corridor, trying to flank me now, I realise.  I wheel around to face him as I do my best to plant my feet, pulling in another relatively deep breath that makes my ribs ache but does at least stoke my growing anger, adding fuel to the fire I use to focus.  Watching him as he considers me for a long beat, wary now in spite of clearly being In significantly better condition at the moment.

Very slowly, I drag the sword up from where its resting against the floor, raising it as well as I can between us, shifting my trailing foot back as I try to effect a guard while I’m still gripping my side with my offhand.  Even though I’ve managed to get the weapon up, I’m not so confident that I’ll actually be able to wield it right now when it comes to actual fighting …

Then he stops biding his time and comes for me, not bothering with a feint given my condition but instead just slashing up under the open side of my defences, and I stop thinking again, just letting my instinct and muscle memory take over now.  It’s all I have left under the circumstances.  My footwork’s wilfully clumsy as I don’t so much dance back as stumble, but somehow it’s coordinated enough that I don’t just trip and fall down as I manage to parry and counter every one of his swift, slicing attacks.

Even so, I’m not fighting back at all, simply letting him drive me back as I just defend myself.  He slowly starts to wear me down, my movements growing more desperate and less precise as my focus starts to slip, my limbs growing heavier under his punishment, the weight of the weapon in my one remaining good hand and the encroaching exhaustion from my wound.  I can’t keep this up much longer, and he knows it, so he just continues to work me back, trying with each attack to work his way through my defences but clearly growing more confident with each passing second that I’m as likely to falter on my own now.

Finally he drives in a particularly wicked thrust that I just barely manage to turn aside, but then he twists his lighter, quicker blade around and twists my own weapon around, causing me to stumble while my wrist bends badly and my grip falters.  The hilt slips free of my weakened fingers and even as the sword rattles off to the side he’s already following through, not with his own blade but a hard kick to my stomach.  The brutal impact must batter the wind right out of me, but I really don’t notice, the sympathetic explosion of fresh pain in my side as I’m pounded back is all that I really notice, exacerbated by a second flare when I land on my back a few feet further down the corridor.

My head swims as I come worryingly close to passing out after all, and I’m a long beat blinking up again before I manage to claw back enough watery, tear-blurred focus to catch sight of him staggering up.  He’s breathing heavy again, at least letting me know that he still hasn’t fully recovered from our previous struggle just before he cut me open, meaning that his subsequent burst of impressive violence must have taken a deal more out of him that he let show.  That being said, as he towers over me now with his sword still firmly in hand I doubt he’s going to need to work too hard now to finish me off.

Even so, I still muster up just about enough paltry strength to rummage under my skirts to slip out the remaining knife still strapped to my thigh, although as I work to raise it between us now I doubt I have the strength to actually use it.  Looking up at him as he pauses to ponder the blade, then glances back up to meet my eyes, it’s clear enough he must come to the same conclusion.  A slow, weary smile starts to creep across his lips, and a cold chill of inevitable dread rolls over me as I realise I’m about to die.

Then his back arches as he gasps in surprise and sudden, pained shock, a long, lethally sharp length of tapering pointed steel suddenly erupting from a little left of the centre of his chest with a surprisingly heavy burst of blood.  The jet’s powerful enough for more than a few drops to splash my face, making me blink in startled surprise, and it must be a match to the look on his face because he clearly can’t believe what’s just happened as he gapes down at the long blade rammed right through his heart.  As the strength leaves his arms and they drop to his sides his own sword slips from his slackening fingers to bounce away across the floor, then the blade’s the only thing holding him up as his legs follow suit.  His mouth works for a few moments as he tries to speak, but nothing’s coming, then his eyes turn glassy before the light just leaves them entirely and his face goes slack, his head slumping forward.  Orric Jammund expires without any ceremony at all.

“He’s …”  I gasp as even the effort to speak makes my side scream now.  “Oh fuck … ah … he’s dead, Kesla.  You can let him down.”

The seemingly massive sliver of steel is swiftly drawn back out of the corpse and it drops all at once like a limp ragdoll, revealing my friend as she hobbles back a few steps, very much favouring one leg while the other’s planted stiff out to her side.  “Yeah … oof … figured you needed help when I heard you shouting.  Took me a while to get here, mind.”  She blinks down at the body for a moment before finally turning to me, and her eyes quickly widen as she gets a proper look at the state I’m in.  “Oh … oh fucking hell, Shay!  Not again … gods, why is it always you?”  Lowering her sword, she has to take another clumsy, swaying stumbling step to the side to reorient herself before she starts to move towards me.

“No!  Kesla, there’s no time!  Get to Gael!  Do it now!”  I point to the door, my desperation filling my voice now.  “Quick!”

TO BE CONTINUED ...

[bashaaustralia]

Reduction of Noise and Vibration By Opting for Underbody Protection Plates

Rust prevention and underbody protection plates are essential for shielding your car from damaging elements and roadside pollutants. Critical parts like the chassis and undercarriage are protected by a barrier created by these preventative measures against rust, corrosion, and other environmental damage. The benefits of underbody coverings and rust prevention will be covered in this blog post, along with the reasons why they are crucial for preserving the longevity and mechanical integrity of your car.

Increased Resell Value

Basha under-vehicle protective plates, also known as 4x4 bash plates, serve as a protective layer of armour for the delicate and important parts of your car's undercarriage, including the radiator, navigation, sump, transmission, and transfer case.

With minimal to no underbody shielding out of the factory, a serious collision with a crucial part might cost you a lot of money in repairs or perhaps leave you stranded. A vehicle with a clean underside and good maintenance will sell for more money. Prospective purchasers are more inclined to pick a car with rust-proofing and underbody coatings.

These safeguards demonstrate the owner's dedication to keeping the car in good shape and safeguarding it from harm. You are protecting your car and potentially increasing its resale value by spending money on underbody treatments and rust-proofing. If the 4WD gets broken or gets trapped in a remote or difficult-to-reach area, substantial charges related to tows and recovery can also be avoided in addition to replacement and mechanic fees.

Why You Needed Bash Screens and Everything You Have to Know for 4X4 Protection?

Bash plates, often referred to as under-car or underbody safeguarding, skid the plates, or protective plates, are a crucial component to take into account for any 4X4 enthusiast who regularly goes off-road.

Installing a bash plate is meant to prevent any debris from flinging up into your car or slamming into any logs, rocks, hard ground, or sand and damaging the key and crucial parts of your car.

They can be mounted on a variety of a vehicle's underbody parts, including the front and rear differentials, sump, radiator, fuel tank, and transmission in a 4X4. They are commonly composed of steel or aluminium.

Source

[poonamcmi]

Global Body Armor Plates Market Is Estimated To Witness High Growth Owing To Increased Demand for Lightweight and Advanced Protection Solutions

The global Body Armor Plates Market is estimated to be valued at US$ 1.93 billion in 2022 and is expected to exhibit a CAGR of 5.2% over the forecast period 2023 to 2030, as highlighted in a new report published by Coherent Market Insights. Market Overview Body armor plates are protective shields worn by military personnel, law enforcement officers, and security personnel to protect against projectile threats. These plates are typically made from strong materials such as ceramics, composites, or steel, and are designed to provide enhanced protection against bullets, shrapnel, and other ballistic threats. Body armor plates offer several advantages, including improved safety for personnel operating in high-risk environments, increased mobility due to lightweight design, and reduced fatality rate from projectile attacks. Market key trends One key trend in the Body Armor Plates Market is the increasing demand for lightweight and advanced protection solutions. With the evolving nature of modern warfare and the rise in terrorist activities, there is a growing need for body armor plates that provide enhanced protection while maintaining comfort and mobility. Manufacturers are investing in research and development to develop lighter and more advanced materials, such as advanced ceramics and fibers, to meet this demand. For example, Point Blank Enterprises, Inc., a key player in the market, offers lightweight body armor plates made from advanced materials like Dyneema and Spectra Shield. PEST Analysis Political: Governments worldwide are focusing on enhancing the safety and security of their personnel, which is driving the demand for body armor plates. Increasing geopolitical tensions and the rise in terrorist activities are also influencing government expenditure on defense and security. Economic: The global defense budget is on the rise, particularly in emerging economies such as India, China, and Brazil. This increased spending on defense is expected to drive the demand for body armor plates. Social: Growing public awareness about the importance of personal safety and the increasing adoption of body armor among law enforcement officers and civilians are contributing to the market growth. Technological: Advancements in material science and manufacturing technologies are enabling the development of lightweight and advanced body armor plates. The integration of technologies such as nanotechnology and smart textiles in body armor plates is further driving market growth. Key Takeaways - The global Armor Plates Market Share is expected to witness high growth, exhibiting a CAGR of 5.2% over the forecast period, due to increasing geopolitical tensions and the need for advanced protection solutions. - North America is the fastest-growing and dominating region in the Body Armor Plates Market, owing to the presence of major market players and the increasing adoption of body armor by the military and law enforcement agencies. - Key players operating in the global Body Armor Plates Market are Aegis Engineering Ltd, Armored Republic, LLC, BAE Systems, Ballistic Body Armour Pty, Ceradyne Inc. (Subsidiary of 3M), Craig International Ballistics Pty Ltd., Hellweg International, Kejo Limited Company, Pacific Safety Products, and Point Blank Enterprises, Inc. In conclusion, the global Body Armor Plates Market is poised for significant growth in the coming years due to increased demand for lightweight and advanced protection solutions. Governments' focus on enhancing personal safety and rising defense expenditure are key drivers for market growth. The integration of advanced materials and technologies in body armor plates will continue to fuel market expansion. North America is expected to be the fastest-growing region, while major market players such as Aegis Engineering Ltd and Point Blank Enterprises, Inc. will play a crucial role in shaping the market landscape.

[allaboutsteel]

Everything You Need To Know About Ballistic Steel Plate

Ballistic steel plates are designed to provide protection against gunfire and other high-velocity projectiles.

Ballistic steel plates are designed to provide protection against gunfire and other high-velocity projectiles. They are made from a variety of materials, including high-hardness steel, ceramic, and polyethene, and are used in a variety of applications, including body armour for military and law enforcement personnel, armoured vehicles, and security doors.

Ballistic Steel Plates are typically rated according to their ability to stop bullets from different weapons and at different ranges. The most common ratings are NIJ Level III and IV, which are tested to stop bullets from common handguns and rifles, respectively. There are also higher ratings, such as NIJ Level V, which are designed to stop armour-piercing bullets.

One of the main advantages of ballistic steel plates is their durability. They are able to withstand multiple impacts and are not easily damaged by bullets or other projectiles. They are also relatively lightweight and can be easily carried or worn by military or law enforcement personnel.

There are several factors to consider when selecting ballistic steel plates, including the type of threat you are facing, the weight and size of the plates, and your budget. It is important to select plates that are rated to stop the specific type of bullets you may encounter and that are comfortable to wear for extended periods of time.

Overall, ballistic steel plates are an important tool for providing protection against gunfire and other high-velocity projectiles. They are widely used by military and law enforcement personnel and can also be used in a variety of other applications where protection against bullets is required.