Fists of Steel

He stood motionless, staring at the blank wall.

What was that thing in Eragon? Those metal studs embedded in the knuckles of a dwarf? Oh yes. Ascûdgamln. The punch-through-anything fists of steel.

He looked down at his own hand. At the steel studs protruding from his balled fist. He looked up at the wall. So … unblemished. Raised his hand and—

—watched as the little pieces of plaster fell from where his fist had punched a hole through the cement. He jerked his hand free, dislodging more pieces which made little pattering sounds as they fell on the wooden floor.

There. That felt better. It didn’t change anything though. It never did.

He stood motionless, staring at the blank wall. Smooth and undamaged once again.