Cleric's Banded Coat of Grenth

Cleric's Banded Coat of Grenth rests on the chair like a patient relic waiting for its next shift in the world’s shadows. The leather wears the color of midnight oceans, a deep, almost edible black that soaks the light rather than reflecting it. Across the front and down the sleeves lie a lattice of bronze bands, hammered to resemble the ribs of a long-dead guardian, each rivet catching a glimmer as if the coat itself is breathing. The edges are trimmed with a woven dark wool that smells faintly of oil and rain, and the collar—stiff, ceremonial—frames the neck with a hollow, ceremonial gravity. If you press your palm to the surface, the texture is both smooth and stubborn, a reminder that this is armor that has spent more nights in a catacomb than near a campfire. Inside, the lining is a softer brown—practical, sturdy, and just a touch waxy from countless stows and quick escape routes. There’s a whisper in the stitching, too, a faint script that looks like a prayer written in a language that only sympathy can translate. Lore connections flicker in the air around it, as if the coat itself hums with the god it’s named for. Grenth, the serene, grave figure of balance between life’s exit and the world’s stubborn itch to endure, is not merely a symbol here but a guide. The banded plates are said to echo the god’s own skeletal ribs, a design meant to evoke both protection and the inevitability of fate. Clerics who wore this coat carried more than their prayers; they bore the weight of a vow to walk the thin line between mercy and judgment, to guard the living from what the dead may still crave. In quieter corners of the world, the coat is known to have survived through sieges and sermons, a talisman that lent composure to healers who found themselves staring down the edge of a blade and choosing to stand their ground rather than yield to fear. In gameplay, the coat feels like a tether to that vow. It is not simply armor to weather a skirmish; it is a statement about the wearer’s role in the unfolding drama of battle. The banded plates offer solid protection in close-quarters fights, while the rune-scarred surface seems to push back against corruption and decay—traits a player will appreciate when steeling themselves for a necromancer’s snarl or a tanking boss’s all-out charge. Those who lean into support or frontline resilience find that the coat’s presence is as much about psychology as about mechanics: it steadies the hand, steadies the breath, steadies the team’s expectation that someone will stand in the way of death and win. Prices and provenance drift in and out of the lore through markets and whispers, and Saddlebag Exchange is one of the places where those whispers become numbers. I watched the listings there shift with the tide—sometimes a higher note as collectors seek a relic with Grenth’s aura, sometimes a kinder price as the daily market’s mood shifts. The coat’s value, like the god it honors, isn’t a single, fixed truth. It’s a story that changes with the wearer who carries it, with the battlefield they choose to face, and with the quiet courage to walk into the dark in search of a dawn. So the Cleric's Banded Coat of Grenth remains more than stitched leather and metal. It’s a narrative you can wear, a relic that carries the weight of a creed and the comfort of a sheltering shadow—a piece of armor that keeps time from erasing the moment you stand up and step back into the light.