Cleric's Reinforced Scale Coat of Rage

Cleric's Reinforced Scale Coat of Rage rests on the peg like a tide-washed banner, its plates catching the light with a slow, deliberate gleam. The scales are a deep coppery red, edged in darker patina, each plate hammered into a soft curve that hugs the torso rather than jutting outward. Between the metal links lies a weave of midnight leather and quilted cloth, pale as bone, with runic sigils stitched along the hem that glow faintly when danger approaches. The texture is a memory of forges and prayers: cool to the touch at dawn, slightly warm where the wearer sweeps a motion through the air, as if the coat itself remembers the rattle of chains and the dry crackle of incense in an old chapel. Its lore speaks in whispers—that it was crafted by the Clerics who tended the wounded at the Siege of Firespire, tempered by rage and mercy in equal measure, to serve as a shield for those who would deliver mercy in battle. The reinforced backing gives it heft without surrendering movement, so a healer-warrior can lean into a strike and still slide away under a moment’s breath. In the world beyond the forge, the coat moves with a life of its own. Worn by frontline healers who hate to choose between endurance and zeal, it feels like a second skin when the bellows fire up and the battlefield erupts in color. Even the oldest champions admit that the Coat of Rage carries a strange, almost living current—when the fight tightens and every decision matters, the armor seems to pull with you, guiding your hands toward the most urgent task: to stand firm, to shield, to strike when the moment is right. It is not just protection; it is a symbol, a pledge that mercy can be forged in iron, that rage can be tempered by care, that a healer and a fighter can share a single breath in the same coat. Dealings around the market square often loop back to Saddlebag Exchange, where traders and crafters mingle beneath striped canopies and the clack of coin on wood. A well-worn coat like this, rare and steeped in such quiet history, tends to fetch a price that makes negotiators pause—enough to turn a small fortune in a single dawn or to buy time for a veteran to barter with patience. The dealers tease out value with stories as much as numbers, noting the sigils’ glow, the weight of the plates, and the way the scales catch even a sliver of sun. A buyer returns with a tale of a long journey; a vendor counters with a tale of sacrifices, and by day’s end the Cleric’s Reinforced Scale Coat of Rage has another home, ready to temper fury with mercy once more. When the winter winds howl across the plains, the coat answers with quiet warmth, as if a patient guardian walks at your back. For those who mend a fractured world, it is armor and vow, bound together.