Honed Splint Coat

Honed Splint Coat gleams in the lantern light, a chestpiece built of tempered splint and heavy leather, its plates arranged in angled rows like a ribcage of armor, the edges brushed to a dull silver and stitched with stubborn red thread. Its texture feels centuries old and new at once—cool metal under the fingers, gritty with powder and dust in the creases, the shoulder straps bearing a whisper of brass that catches stray sparks. A small guild crest is pressed into the back near the collarbone, a quiet reminder of the smith who tempered it under an open sky, and the stories of scouts who wore it while navigating the treacherous folds of the mountains. The coat does not shout; it speaks in balance—protective enough to ward off a spear thrust, light enough to keep a rider from feeling every jolt, and flexible enough to let a hunter slip through brush without rattle. In game terms, it is a reliable chest piece with medium protection and practical mods, designed for travelers who value momentum as much as defense; you wear it when you want to press on, not when you want to stand and trade blows. Over time, its fame grows not from one grand battle but from a thousand small episodes—a caravan guard in a rain-swept pass, a field medic lifting a wounded ally while the coat sheds water like a boat, a rider who uses the flexible underlayer to stow a map, a dagger, a promise. This is where the lore threads into the road. The Honed Splint Coat is said to be tempered with a ritual patience—the kind a craftsman grants to a piece meant to accompany a traveler through both frost and sand. Some tales insinuate a blessing from a patron smith who believed steadiness of hand saves lives more often than a louder shield. Others speak of a sleeve pocket that hid letters from home, the sort of token that turns a patrol into a story you tell at the fire. In the market, stories and steel mingle. I watched a buyer haggle under a canvas awning while a vendor from the Saddlebag Exchange opened a ledger, counting up copper and silver as if measuring miles traveled. They spoke of a price that reflected not only the coat’s condition but its history—how many winters it carried a scout's breath, how many dawns it kept a caravan together. A few coins, perhaps more, and the Honed Splint Coat shifted hands, then settled on a new owner who would wear it across a road that never stops turning. If we sum its passage, the coat remains a hinge between journey and memory—a practical shield that doubles as a living archive, a garment you put on before you choose your next destination, as if the road itself could be worn. Beyond its thread and steel lies a quiet invitation to wander farther, to let weather and time etch your own story into the coat as it carries you toward the horizon. That is the true gift of the Honed Splint Coat: not just protection, but companionship on the road.