Cleric's Prowler Shoulders

Cleric's Prowler Shoulders sit in the shop's glow like a relic found in a temple's quiet crypt: pale steel brushed to a soft satin, straps of weathered leather dyed the color of dried plum. A prowling feline badge is stitched in silver along the left plate, its eyes catching the lamplight and holding it, while a thin fringe of moon-silk hums along the edges. The texture is a conversation between age and purpose: the metal cool and unyielding, the padding underneath a whispering quilt of linen and cord, designed to cradle the shoulder through long vigils and patrols. Runes etched in a shallow relief trace vines around the seam, suggesting a lineage—clerics who served not just with sermons, but with quiet steps through the dark. In temple archives, the 'Prowler' epithet is said to belong to a cadre of healers who moved like mist through siege camps, delivering balm to the wounded while melting into shadows. The shoulders carry the memory of their quivering prayers, of a bell that tolled only when the last breath steadied. When you wear them, the story says, you walk with both mercy and stealth, a paradox that speaks to a temple's most stubborn virtue: healing even as you slip past the clamor of battle. Gameplay significance: In the field they are described as a rare fit for support builds that crave mobility. Wielders report that equipping the Cleric's Prowler Shoulders helps pace healing with movement, weaving a line of wards while staying just clear of the frontline's glare. The armor's sigils seem to thrum when you pass near the afflicted, granting a buffered aura that reduces frayed nerves and hastens the application of restorative wards. It doesn't shout, but it hints, encouraging a player to balance risk and care: stay in the middle ground between stun and surge, deliver healing hands, then vanish like a patient predator returning to silence. For groups, the effect is a subtle but real skirmish advantage: keep the team steady, keep them breathing, and collect momentum as you thread through cautions and cures. On the market bench at Saddlebag Exchange, the scarf of rumor circulates with the shoulder plates. Traders gesture at the item's price—the way it shifts with the mood of the crowd—dare to set a tag, then shrink it as the clock nears dusk. A veteran tale says a well-worn set can be found for a few gold coins, while a pristine version, restored by a patient artisan, would fetch more. The exchange is where memory becomes currency; the cleric who donned these shoulders once taught a village to wait for the dawn, and now another seeker might learn to wait for the right moment to act. Ultimately, Cleric's Prowler Shoulders are more than gear. They are a whisper of mercy stitched into the hard edge of duty, a reminder that healing sometimes asks us to move unseen, keeping faith with both the living and the lives we can only reach through the night, for those listening.