Leather Thumb And Finger Guards Novels & Stories

As expected, two guards were on the door, agile and alert. It was true that the sun still sits just over the horizon, but the dark skin of the guards, glittered with the radiance of daylight, making their bare chest look as if they were bathed with a thick, black viscoid liquid. Their lips were as red as a rose flower and their eyes, bright like silver, were like the shimmering of an afternoon sun on sea waters. Beautiful creatures. Both men held a shield. The one on the right had a spear and the other on the left had a sword. Both, in a skirt, made from the brush of cedar bark.

The cloak extended down to his ankles, with slits on the sides to allow for unrestricted movement during combat. Beneath the cloak was a form-fitting, dark ensemble made of flexible, reinforced material. The shirt and pants were designed for agility, featuring subtle armor plating at vital points to protect against attacks without sacrificing mobility. Black, fingerless gloves covered his hands, enhancing his grip and leaving his fingers free for delicate tasks. Completing the outfit were a pair of sturdy, black boots with soft soles, enabling Claud to move silently across any terrain. The boots were reinforced at the toes and heels, offering both protection and an added edge in hand-to-hand

“Keep this distance.” I did as he said and stood by the tree, watching as he slung his black backpack off his shoulder and leaned it carefully against the trunk. He opened it and pulled something out, two pairs of leather gloves. I watched in silence as he slid them onto his large, veiny hands. His fingers moved and flexed through the leather, testing the fit. He opened and closed his hands a few times, the gloves making a faint creaking sound. “Aren’t you going to take off your glasses?” I asked him. I had always wondered how he managed to train with them on.

I told her. “Where are you going?” She asked. But I was already making my way out of the suite. I stopped in front of the closet to pull out a pair of sleek, black leather gloves. I put my hand into the first one, pulling the supple leather tight over my knuckles. The feel of the leather was instantly grounding, focusing my killer instincts and channeling the rage into something controllable. I pulled on the second glove. The leather would protect my hands. I did not appreciate having grime on my skin.

[Trigger Warning: There will be details of whipping. I will place markers before it.] ADAM. I felt the weight of the moment before I saw the gloves. My mate passed them to me with a look that said she trusted me to do what needed to be done. Thick leather, reinforced at the palms. I slid my hands into them as if I was putting on armor. The crowd watched with varying reactions. Some were apprehensive. Others shifted on their feet, restless, like they were caught between wanting justice and not quite wanting to watch it carried out.

Nicholas What I said hadn’t been a lie. I did have other wrist guards, made by artisans and leatherworkers from all across the country. Yet none of them had been quite as meaningful as the one handmade for me by Piper. Hers was more comfortable too. I wasn’t sure how she could remember the size of my wrist without having examined me, but she had crafted the guard to fit snuggly but not too tightly. Just how I preferred it. Did she perhaps remember when I had complained about other wrist guards in the past?

Twister and Stinger, Bjorn decided; that would be their names. Each one carried a machine-manufactured taser rod and an accompanying mini charging pack. A sharp point protruded from one end, but high voltage death resided in the butt end. Both guards wore white HB-cloaks with an up-turned blue crescent edging the bottom just below the ‘MAir' emblem designating their authority.

Not when Skyr hasn't told the squad yet. We finally made it to the shop that sells gears. Numerous uniforms, boots, gloves, bags, and equipment line the walls and stalls. No one was here except for a middle aged shopkeeper and a few small drones that served as a CCTV. One stall caught my sight. It was lined with numerous combat gloves with thick padding on the palm and knuckles. I nudged Rachel and pointed at the aisle. “Over there.” I told her.

The gentle rustle of the clean linen filled the space between us as I started wrapping his fingers. I wound the white fabric carefully over the burns to protect the sensitive flesh from the rain. My hands shook violently from the leftover adrenaline but I forced myself to tie the knots securely. The white fabric soaked up the cold rainwater almost instantly. I made sure to wrap the linen loose enough to prevent painful swelling but tight enough to stay secure. He had massive hands designed to wield broadswords and crush the throats of his enemies. Holding them gently in my lap felt like trying to bandage a wounded predator that could snap my neck at any second.

It was human military gear, and I purchased the entire authentic setup. I tightened the black woven belt and laced the middle-shin high black combat boots. The outfit even came with a leather thigh holster. It housed the Bowie survival knife, and the compass, encased in its own holster, clicked to the side of the belt. I looked like a G.I. Jessica Rabbit.