Cleric's Winged Tunic

Cleric's Winged Tunic spreads across the counter like a pale dawn banner, ivory linen catching the lamplight and turning it to a soft halo. Its fabric is a whisper to the skin—cool and smooth, with a subtle sheen that hints at hidden threads of moon-silver. The tunic hangs loose at the waist, but the sleeves gather at the forearms, and along the back runs a pair of winged shapes stitched in fine gold thread, each feather edged in a thread of pale blue that gleams when the light shifts. The collar bears a row of tiny sigils, barely visible to the casual eye, a map of mercy and oath-work that speaks to an order long remembered by the keepers of sanctuaries. In person the garment feels more than cloth; it feels like a vow you can wear. The texture shifts with your breath, as if the tunic neither clings nor binds, but moves with the will of the wearer. The wings, sculpted from compact quilting, rise just above the shoulders as if ready to carry a story into the air, which is perhaps why the Cleric's Winged Tunic is coveted by travelers who trade sermons for safe passage between clifftops and ruined towns. Its lore is not only ornament. According to whispered chronicles tucked away in old healing halls, the tunic was woven by the hands of sisters who tended plague-bereaved villages, imbued with a blessing that granted steadier hands in the darkest nights. Legend says a healer who wore it could sense the faint tremor of illness in the air and respond before the first fever took hold. As years wore on, people claimed the wings were not merely decoration but a reminder that mercy should lift the burden of the fallen, not weigh it down. In the markets of the world, the tunic travels with healers, merchants, and those who seek to mend broken bridges between communities. When a group of pilgrims paused in front of a rotting gate, the tunic fluttered in the breeze like a folded map, and the gate seemed to listen. In gameplay terms, the Cleric's Winged Tunic is more than style. It is a symbol of purpose—an armor that softens the sting of battle and clarifies a healer's focus. Worn by those who walk paths of restoration, it reduces strain on casting by whispering calm into the hands and smoothing the cadence of healing skills. It also resonates with the world’s ever-shifting weather of favors, granting boon-based perks to allies who gather near, while giving the wearer a bit more freedom to roam without sacrificing protection. I watched a courier bargain for one in Saddlebag Exchange, the leathered pouch clinking as the price shifted with demand; a modest premium for those who know that a tunic -- a wing, in effect -- can carry more than cloth. On a hillside road, a cleric slung the tunic over a pack, the wings catching sun, and I understood how a garment could become a guide.