Hardened black invar half-plate

Prize item for Hunt for History.

some hardened black invar half-plate

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An invar breastplate, pauldrons and vambraces make up this simple and functional set of half plate. The only trace of adornment on it comes from the fluting of the vambraces that lend extra strength without increasing the weight of the armguards. The age of the armor is indeterminate. No armorer's marks tell of its maker, no repaired damage hints at battles survived.

An exellent example of a fine Dhe'nar / Khanshael half-plate.

Loresong

A beardless dwarf stands beside an anvil with a cluster of others. He is barely tall enough to see the top of the anvil, but his attention does not wander as he watches a silver-haired armorsmith demonstrate his trade. At a gesture, he fetches a flask of water for the older dwarf. The smith takes a long swig, then upends the remainder over his balding ebon pate.

A young dark elf stands in a circle with a handful of other children within a great cavern. A few are close enough in resemblance to be kin and all hold some raised weapon, be it a length of wood, a dagger or simply balled fists. A cry that is almost, but not quite, like that of a wounded animal is heard and their heads whip around in unison to watch a similar group emerge from a nearby cave. The two groups fall on each other for a handful of breaths before the newcomers flee, leaving two fallen and still children behind.

A dark dwarf rests against a set of heavy bellows, panting from exertion. Forge hammers ring and the light of a dozen fires reflects off his sweaty face. He shakes his head and droplets fly from a beard just beginning to grow, hissing where they land on hot metal. One of the forge hammers stops its even rhythym and the young dwarf glances up just in time to receive a heavy cuff alongside his head. He bows his head and enthusiastically pumps the bellows as the hammer pounds once more.

A dark elven youth runs with a heavy pack. He carries a longsword and shield along with the pack and the dust of many miles clings to his boots. The sun of midsummer beats down on him and those before and behind him, but they continue to run in a ground-eating lope. At a quiet command he drops his pack and he sprints into a formation. The squad crests a rise and with murderous silence falls on an encampment of orcs. One of the youths is slain by an arrow to his throat. At the end of the short battle, his corpse is quickly and efficiently stripped and the others run on, burdened with their dead comrade's gear as well as their own.

A dwarf pounds at a forge, his hammer striking sparks off a sheet of thick dwarven steel. His sparse beard and unlined face show that he is young, unlike the dark-skinned and silver-bearded dwarf behind him. The elder barks out a question from time to time while the youth works and is quietly but confidently answered. The elder makes neither signs of approval nor disapproval at these responses, but only watches the methodical pounding of the forge hammer as a breastplate slowly takes shape.

A young dark elven man holds out a longsword in front of him, the blade parallel to the ground. His near-exhaustion is clear in his slightly glazed eyes but his blade remains steady and extended at arm's length. Robed figures surround him and a fire flares up before them, obscuring the scene. The longsword lands in the fire and the leather grip begins to burn immediately. A spell is quietly cast and the fire blazes up even more, the longsword vanishing into the flames.

A powerfully built dark elven warrior strides through a village. He wears a dark suit of half plate as if it were no more than ordinary clothing and carries a sheathed longsword at his waist. He passes by a blacksmith's shop and stops to watch a moment. A half-circle of children stand around a full-bearded dwarf lecturing them, paying such close attention that they do not even notice when the warrior's shadow falls over them. The older dwarf looks up and gives the warrior a courteous nod, then continues to teach the young dwarves.

Slowly the vision begins to fade, and you regain the sense of the here and now.