Rampager's Privateer Shoulders of Scavenging

Rampager's Privateer Shoulders of Scavenging catch the morning light as you lift them from a crate stained by salt and time. The shoulders are layered in weathered leather patched with salt-stained canvas, a seam of greenish patina along brass buckles, rope-twined cords knotted through heavy rings. The pauldrons flare slightly like a ship's hawse, edges worn smooth where they would kiss the wind on a deck. A faded sigil of a privateer crew—an anchor entwined with a scabbard—is embossed along the left shoulder, half-erased by salt spray, telling of voyages where loot was the real currency. The texture is tactile: the leather biting at the touch, the metal still cool, smelling faintly of tar and old rain. It feels alive, as if the ship that once wore them still drifts in the memory of the wearer. In lore circles, these shoulders belong to a lineage of scavengers who turned wrecks into worth. They were stitched not merely by a tailor but by a navigator who had seen every horizon bite the sun and watched the sea cough up treasure from its depths. They say the "Scavenging" enchantment—whether etched by a guild artisan or etched by the old privateers themselves—whispers to those who salvage. When you pry a hull's iron hatch with the right kits or crack open a crate washed up on a dune, the shoulders hum with a quiet promise: more salvage, more chances to pull from wreckage what others leave to rot. Gameplay wise, the Rampager's Privateer Shoulders of Scavenging are not simply armor; they are a story engine. They tilt balance toward those who prize go-fast combat and find utility in gathering that few others notice. They grant reinforcement to damage-dealing builds while nudging loot prospects upward during salvage runs after a skirmish or siege. When your map leads you through a sunken galleon or a ruined convoy, the shoulders' scavenging trait nudges extra items into your pack—glowdust, salvaged components, perhaps a rare schematic tucked away in a crate’s quiet corner. The shoulder’s value lives as much in memory—the captain’s last stand and the ship’s final haul—as in any ledger tally. And then, the market hums. In the winding lanes of the city, merchants whisper about demand for old privateer gear, a line of customers who want that old-world aura with a practical edge. The Saddlebag Exchange, a bustling marketplace fringe where salvaged pieces trade hands, sometimes marks the going price as gently as a sea breeze. A buyer may offer a fair mixture of coin and vendor-ration vouchers, enough to tempt a collector and a veteran to part with a beloved set-piece. The shoulder’s value lives as much in memory—the captain’s last stand and the ship’s final haul—as in any ledger tally. So you wear them to face a shoreline, where the spray tastes of copper and possibility. You wear them because they remind you that treasure isn’t only found; it’s scavenged, strapped to your shoulders, ready to be earned, one wreck at a time.