As the legends of Hillbreaker and Steel Judgment grew, so too did the stature of those who sought out the glittering Damascus of the Ironspirit forges. Two score years beyond the birth of Hillbreaker came Whirlwind of Rainbows to the smoky vales of the Ironspirit. Before her stood not the High Master of the Forges, but rather, the master warrior-smith who would succeed him, Koran Ironspirit.
Whirlwind of Rainbows spake unto the Ironspirit, her words the crystal sound of the windchimes, “I have come to seek the High Master, to beseech him to make me the tool most perfect for me.”
Koran’s response rang with the iron of the forges, as he raised not the hammer of the smith, but the hammer of the warrior, “You will get nothing until you have shown your need.”
Her response was swift and brutal, her bared fists and elbows striking with the speed of the wind and the power of the thunder, against the mountainous frame of the smith, against the avalanche of his hammer. For three nights and three days did Whirlwind of Rainbows and Koran Ironspirit make battle upon each other, until upon the third rising of the sun did Koran raise his hand and voice, to shout with the voice of the earthquake. “ENOUGH! You have shown me your need. Paitence now, and what you need will be yours.”
For four more days and four more nights did Whirlwind of Rainbows await Koran Ironspirit upon the spot where he raised his voice, the sounds of the hammer and anvil ringing about her. Upon the seventh rising of the sun since her arrival, did he emerge with her prize in hand. Strange they were to her, though swiftly she understood their form and purpose. Two they were, the left near the mirror of the right, with strange straps to fasten them to her hands and elbows. Three damascine blades would protrude from her knuckles when she wore them, a perfect extension of her own hands, while a fourth would extend from her elbow, the ideal complement to her whirling elbows. Her arms would be protected by an iron mesh, all of this given stiffness by iron bars up the length of her forearm. Truely for Whirlwind of Rainbows, they were perfect. She bore them forth then, to make them truely hers.
No one since has ever managed to master the Rainbow Claws, though they have been borne by several monks and other martial artists. If the legend holds true, the master may use them to become a literal tornado of steel, striking at once in every direction, in a liquid dance of light and steel. He is swift and sure, yet fluid and never-stopping. There is an untold keenness to their edge even yet, and what they can pierce is unknown even to the legends. In any case, they await a master skilled enough to bring forth the brilliant fury of the Whirlwind of Rainbows.