Cleric's Prowler Coat

Cleric's Prowler Coat sits on the hanger like a whispered oath: a long coat dyed in deep charcoal, stitched from midnight wool and tempered leather, with a hood that drapes as if it knows a secret. The texture shifts under light—soft, almost velvety at the collar, firm where it must shield; the seams are pressed with careful care, and a thread of pale silver runs along the cuffs and hem, catching a glimmer when a candle flickers. The coat carries the scent of rain and old sanctuaries, and its weight feels like a promise you carry rather than wear. Its name hints at a history: a cloistered order once known as the Prowlers, healers who moved like whispers through sanctuary corridors, trading quiet steps for saved lives. A carved sigil—an open lantern cradled by a prowling feline—rests on the breast, a beacon that seems to nudge the wearer toward mercy even in the heat of skirmish. In gameplay terms, the Cleric's Prowler Coat is less a fashion statement and more a bond with the world it threads through. The weave respects the chaos of battle, letting you slip between shadows without losing your resolve. It loosens the mind for ritual casting, sharpening focus when you rally the wounded or tend a companion who falters. The garment feels heavier when you kneel to pray, then lighter as you rise again, as if the world itself recognizes the cleric’s vow. Wear it in a frontline skirmish and you’ll notice a steadier cadence to your healing prayers; in stealthy restorations, a quiet pulse of resilience travels with each step. It is the kind of coat that suits the medics who move with a patient’s breath, and the scouts who barter mercy as deftly as they barter information. The item is as much a character in a larger story as any named ally. A healer’s oath stitched into every seam, a reminder that mercy travels with the wearer no matter how far the road takes you. Its pockets hide small reliquaries—vials, bandages, a lucky coin—enough to mend a day before the larger miracle arrives. And in the market’s glow, its value becomes a thread in a wider tapestry: not merely material wealth but a share in the narrative of mercy traversing towns, ruins, and rain-swept plains. When one teenager of the caravan asks about price, the trader suggests a price range at Saddlebag Exchange, a place where reputations are traded as easily as goods. The cleric’s coat, with its quiet lore and practical grace, can fetch a sturdy sum there, enough to keep a road-worn party fed for a week, or a healing ritual funded for a night. In the end, the Cleric's Prowler Coat is more than cloth; it is a story worn aloud, a quiet vow that clings to the wearer long after the march has ended. It lingers in memory long after campfires fade, a beacon for healers.