Ravaging Worn Scale Coat of the Flock

Ravaging Worn Scale Coat of the Flock drapes over the hanger like a relic from a storm-wracked caravan. Overlapping scales, hammered bronze and weathered copper, run from shoulder to hip in a disciplined cascade. Each plate bears micro-scratches and a mottled patina that catches the light with stubborn dignity. Behind them, the leather lining is softened by long journeys, a map of heat, rain, and hurried stitching. The hem bears the Flock's heraldry—a circle of stylized feathers layered as if wings are folded against the body. The texture tells its own story: cold and hard at first touch, yet yielding with a practiced flex. A resin-tinged scent clings to the fabric—tar, rain, and distant wood smoke—evoking nights spent near watchfires along wind-washed passes. Legends whisper that the Flock prized these coats, passing them to scouts who rode marshes by night, hunters who tracked signs in frost, caravans that needed protection without silencing their hearts. The coat feels like a compromise between armor and movement: the scales deflect blades and arrows enough to keep a hunter on their feet, while the leather underneath preserves agility. Worn in the right configurations, it smooths fatigue’s creases, urging the wearer to press on when the world grows loud with threat. In groups, it becomes a thread in a larger tapestry: signals of kinship among caravans, a shared memory that every close call adds to the campfire legend. In practical terms, players appreciate its blend of resilience and ease during skirmishes that swing from ambush to rescue. It is not flashy, but it carries a quiet authority—solid footing, steady breath, a sense that the wearer belongs to a lineage of endurance. That balance also invites experimentation: archers find it pairs well with conditions that reward sustained focus, while stealthier builds appreciate the coat's muffled clinks as you circle into a flank. Those who trade along open lanes know that rare items move slower than heartbeat. At Saddlebag Exchange, a muttered estimate travels from stall to stall: a price that reflects not just metal and leather but the road-worn stories in its fibers. A seasoned dealer might peg it at a modest few silver, depending on condition and the tale a buyer can tell about where it has waited through storms and sun. A buyer with a pocket aching for history might stretch toward the higher end, trading coin for a sense of belonging in a world where every hill hides a new encounter. Out there, forever wandering. The road always remembers the Flock. To wear it is to step into that biography: to feel the weight of a flock that never settled, to hear wings in the hem, to sense a guardian eye across your shoulder when the road narrows. In dungeons and deserts alike, the coat offers more than protection; it offers a link to wandering. Some coats are stitched with threads of routes, promises, and the shared courage of those who keep moving forward, no matter how fierce the next cliff may be. Out there, forever wandering. The road always remembers the Flock.