Cleric's Seer Coat of the Eagle

Cleric's Seer Coat of the Eagle drapes the shoulders in moonlit ivory, the fabric a whisper-thin satin that shivers with even the slightest movement. Along the yoke, a delicate featherwork pattern threads light through the dark, as if a storm-lit bird had brushed its wing across the loom. The sleeves taper to cuffs stitched with ash-gray sigils, and a single, open-wing clasp made of pale alloy holds the coat closed with a quiet, almost reverent click. The back bears a living emblem—an eagle mid-takeoff, its wings caught in a halo of thread so fine you almost doubt you see it until the light hits just right. The lining is a warm, barley-colored fleece, soft as a memory, that settles around the wearer and seems to murmur promises of steadiness when the world grows sharp. The texture feels at once cool and protective, like a shield woven from wind and intention, the sort of garment that settles over you as if it already knows you’ll need calm in the midst of chaos. Lore threads into the feeling of wearing it. The coat is said to have been woven in the veille of a great watch—by the Seers who walked mountain paths and kept vigil for storms that would swallow villages whole. The eagle is their totem, a symbol of vigilant mercy: seeing what comes before it arrives, and then lending a patient wind to those who follow. In the stories stitched into the lining, the wearer isn’t merely protected; they are invited to become a conduit for foresight, a living chorus between prayer and action. Put on in the heat of battle or along the edge of a council’s night, the coat seems to answer with a soft chorus of breath, reminding the wearer that the future, like the eagle’s gaze, moves with a careful patience. In practice, its significance in the field feels less like a stat sheet and more like a companion faith. Those who walk with the Climbers’ Reaches and the wary ruins know that the coat’s presence encourages a healer’s hands to hover just a fraction longer over a patient, the way a guardian angel might hover over a child. It is said to amplify healing intent, temper panic, and illuminate those around you who most need protection. When the line of enemies tightens or a shield falters, the coat’s inner warmth steadies the breath, and the wearer seems to see, almost before it happens, where the next safe step lies. It won’t fight for you, but it tilts the moment toward mercy, inviting allies to move as one rather than as a string of frightened individuals. Prices and passages of rare fabrics drift through markets like moths to lamplight, and today I found myself drawn to the cluttered stalls of the Saddlebag Exchange, where traders tell stories as deftly as they tally coins. A careful haggler weighed the coat against a dozen smaller curios, his fingers tracing the eagle’s wing as if to call down favorable winds. The tag spoke softly of a price in gold, with room to bargain, and I watched as a bundle of coins shuffled back and forth, finally landing with a quiet decision: a fair exchange for such a relic, with its long road and longer legends. The trade wrapped up, and the coat found its next listener—a new day’s chapter ready to unfold.