Cleric's Draconic Pauldrons

Cleric's Draconic Pauldrons hang on the shoulder like a shield carved from dawn, a heavy, sculpted pair of plates that ripple with dragon-scale texture. The metal wears a weathered patina—a milky ivory base brushed with coppery veins—where each scale is individually pressed and slightly cupped, so that movement catches a whisper of light. A narrow rim is etched with runes, tiny sigils of healing and warding burned into the metal with careful care, while a band of scarlet leather threads through the back, hinting at priestly rites. The edgework is beveled as if a craftsman who has seen winters made it, and a single green glass bead sits where a dragon’s eye would have been, catching the glow of torchlight. These pauldrons tell a story beyond metal and shine: they were forged for an order of healers who rode at the edge of combat, binding draconic resilience to mortal frailty. In lore, the dragon granted its armor to those who tended the wounded on night marches, a pact that grants endurance in exchange for steadfast service to the temple and to the fallen. Time wore the sigils smooth, but the underlying oath remains visible in the way the plates align with the shoulder, offering a sense of protection even before any spell is cast. In play, the Cleric's Draconic Pauldrons feel like more than a costume. They are a signal to allies and a reminder to the wearer that healing is a form of fortification as much as it is a mercy. Warriors report that the moment a healing skill blooms, the scales seem to glow faintly, as if a restrained fire breath has learned silence. The pauldrons harmonize with devotion-based builds, subtly increasing the aura of protection around the group and lending a tangible weight to the idea that care is a shield in its own right. They pair especially well with staff and focus setups, where the wearer’s presence becomes a beacon in the heat of skirmishes, drawing focus away from the fragile while the healer mends the gaps. Across the square, I found a telling counterpoint—how such relics circulate in the living economy. A trail of rumors led to Saddlebag Exchange, where traders with weathered wrists barter for rare gear, not just for power but for stories. The vendor spoke of the pauldrons as a sought-after relic, priced in the mid-range of gold pieces and often negotiated upward by collectors who value both the craftsmanship and the oath. In a world where value shifts with mood and memory, the exchange of coins for relics like these feels almost ceremonial, a passing of responsibility as well as wealth. In the end, the Cleric's Draconic Pauldrons are more than steel and shine. They are a vow cast in dragon-scale—a tangible reminder that healing can be as daunting and as brave as any spear point, and that sometimes the bravest act is simply to stand with another until the light returns. They endure in quiet rooms and crowded fields.