It is said that the first pair of warden's fists was crafted by a Warden born of both the tribes Vard and Ushka, she made and named them Brother and Sister for the siblings that she never had. However the Navarr claim that the Wardens learnt the secret from their Vates who claim that they were originally called Terunael’s Fists and were a common weapon in their war against what came before the Vallorn.
In Urizen they are favourite among the Sentinels who believe that the balance between martial and magical is the best demonstration of Arete, a fight that can be altered by quickly removing pivotal opponents is one that you win without wasted lives.
- Form: A pair consisting of a one-handed weapon and a rod or wand
- Effect: Once per day you may either use the weapon to call CLEAVE or instead use the rod to cast Repel without spending hero points or Mana.
- Materials: Crafting a set of warden's fists requires five ingots of dragonbone, two ingots each of tempest jade and orichalcum. It takes one month to make a pair of these items.
The Wolves circled her in the creeping darkness of the forest. The wall that was a road was out of sight now. She had been tracking them for days, and nights, without sleep. She could smell the putrid breath of the flesh-feasters, as they hissed in gloating hunfer.
Maybe three of them. No, four.
She was alone.
She crouched in the glade, undergrowth knotted about her feet. She was wounded, a gash in the side from a bone sharp branch. Her power was spent, and the Wolves could smell the metallic tang of blood in the air. They made a guttural noise in their throats. She tensed.
“I am ready.” She called forth words of power, drawing not on her depleted resources but on the power of her dragonbone rod. It flared to life as her words caressed it.
The first two charged, her antlers flashed, their tangs finding homes in the ribs of one of the monsters. She struck it with her rod and it fled, wheeling back into the woods. The second fell back before her, the orichalcum of her axe glowing gently in the gathering twilight. She'd hardly worked up a sweat.
The remaining couple came crashing and snarling out of the gloomy brush.
Two-on-one, now those were better odds. She sheathed her rod and unslung her shield.