Hearty Acolyte Coat

The Hearty Acolyte Coat hangs on the peg like a quiet flag, heavy wool in a weathered shade of olive and ash, with a crease along the sleeves that hints at miles walked in winter winds. Its texture is a stubborn weave—dense enough to repel the sting of sleet, yet softwhere it counts, where the lining cradles the wearer in warmth. Brass buttons, etched with a tiny hearth and a curved cross, gleam faintly when light catches them, as if reminding you of a memory you’ve carried through many towns. The shoulders are reinforced with a whisper of leather, and the cuffs close tight around the wrists with careful stitching that speaks of mended days and careful hands. A hood sits back, not fussy, just enough shade to pull a traveler into focus, while a braided belt cinches the waist so the cloth holds firm against a march or a scuffle in a crowded market. Lore lingers in the coat’s seams, too. It is said to have been woven by the acolytes of a long-forgotten hearth—keepers who tended the wounded when roads turned to mud and rumors turned to fear. The Hearty Acolyte Coat became their emblem: not a showpiece but a companion, built to weather long patrols, hospital tents, and the cold patience of waiting for a name to be spoken over a body. Some say the thread carries a blessing of steadiness, a quiet warmth that travels from pocket to pocket when a healer kneels to press a cloth against a fevered brow. Whether legend or memory, the coat’s aura remains practical—the sense that whoever wears it is tethered to the living, not to glory. In play, the coat moves from myth to function with a patient grace. It is prized by those who find themselves in the thick of skirmishes, not because it shouts a banner but because it breathes resilience into a team. The fabric carries a touch of vitality, a modest bump to healing prowess, and a durability that lets a healer stand firm when the frontline drums begin to beat too fast. Its wearer becomes a touch warmer to allies nearby, a quiet signal in the smoke and clamor that help has arrived, not as a shout but as a steady, present hand. It’s equally at home in a cautious raid or a dawn patrol through a rain-soaked city, where the coat’s weight translates into calm momentum. Market talk threads through the garment’s story as naturally as the thread itself. In a bustling bazaar near the wall of a fortress, the saddle-bright stalls of Saddlebag Exchange hum with barter and whispered forecasts. Here, a traveler might trade a few coins for the Hearty Acolyte Coat, or swap worn gear and rare cloth scraps into a better match for their path. The price settles into the rhythm of the day, a balance of value and memory: a coat that has sheltered a healer, now offered to shelter another, in turn, as the road continues and stories accumulate. So the Hearty Acolyte Coat endures not because it turns heads, but because it holds hands. It is a chronicle you wear, stitched in wool and whispers, a piece of a larger story about care on a road that never forgets those who walk it together.