The amazonian cleric looks down onto the hooded man, both respect and disgust written on her features. "Ah Gorum has called you, child of Irori, very well you may try and hold the Shard. Do not fear the touch of Gorum, for it may burn you, yet if you are worthy of it you shall be spared its agony." The cleric then places the shard into his hand, causing a small gash to open on his palm. The moment blood welled from the wound a searing flames burst around it and his other hand, licking at his robe but not lighting it.<br/><br/>(5 points of fire damage which you resist)<br/><br/>The shard melted ad if thrown into a forge, the molten metal running to encase both hands. As it cold the man noticed not a single sound was made, the crowd stunned to silence. Seconds after they covered his hands details on them began to form. Every inch was decorated, yet deadly. These were clearly a<strong>relic</strong>of a forgotten age.<br/><br/>http://cdn.staticneo.com/w/princeofpersia/thumb/1/1b/The_Gauntlet.jpg/200px-The_Gauntlet.jpg (http://cdn.staticneo.com/w/princeofpersia/thumb/1/1b/The_Gauntlet.jpg/200px-The_Gauntlet.jpg)<br/><br/>The cleric fell to her knees in shock at the sight before her before stuttering out. "The h.. ha..<strong>Hands of the Warlock King</strong>. Gorum has spoken and blessed you with a mighty relic. You, traveler, are to be the one that will unite us. I am Mazon Ironhide, Cleric of Gorum. From this day forth I pledge my blade to you and will do battle in your name.  Please grace us by removing your hood."