Cleric's Banded Coat of Rage

Cleric's Banded Coat of Rage sprawls across the shoulders, a mosaic of hardened leather bands dyed in burnt copper and deep crimson, with a weathered linen underlayer that sighs with every breath. The edges are riveted with brass rings that catch the light like distant fire. Each band is a whisper of old campaigns; you can almost hear long-forgotten prayers stitched into the seams, as if the coat itself keeps faith alive through the rattle of gear and the drumbeat of marching feet. The surface bears a lacquered texture, polished from travel and battle, yet there are tiny nicks where the weather has learned a cleric’s stubborn will. It wears a robe’s form with armor’s resolve, a paradox that feels almost ceremonial and brutally practical at the same time. Lore says this coat began life among healers who learned to wield their own fury as a shield, a deliberate forge of rage tempered into protection rather than release. In the faded journals of a siege-priesthood, the coat was described as a conduit—bands of leather acting like sinews, channels for rage to flow outward as warding energy. To wear it was to carry a vow: to fight with compassion, to stand firm when the tide of battle turned, and to turn that anger into a barrier for the vulnerable. Whether the legend is true or not, the garment has a way of making the wearer feel larger than life, as though the coat itself lends authority to the voice that speaks for those who cannot defend themselves. In contemporary play, the coat moves beyond myth into a tangible role on the field. It is prized by guardians and healers who must stand in the breach, absorbing the brunt of frontline blows while sending healing threads and protective wards back to their allies. Practitioners claim it sweetens the subtler alchemy of a build—a blend of vigor and courage—by granting a steadying resilience when anger flares into focus, letting a healer or support chaperone a squad through the storm. The texture seems to hum when you enter a raid or a fractal, as if the coat remembers every time it kept someone from slipping into the dark. Worn with ringed gauntlets or a simple staff, it turns the wearer into a moving bulwark—visible mercy that can still strike true when the moment demands it. Market whispers drift around the Saddlebag Exchange, where traders haggle with the old-coin patience of those who know what stories this garment carries. There, a coat like this finds its price not in numbers alone but in the narrative it invites—tales of corridors and cathedrals, of prayers spoken under the pressure of steel. The shopkeepers speak in measured tones, measuring credibility as much as value, and the piece is often weighed by how many memories it can bear rather than how many scars it can endure. It’s a rare thing to see the coat treated as history in motion, yet that is exactly what makes it desirable: a wearable relic of resolve that continues to shape the world it inhabits. To own Cleric's Banded Coat of Rage is to carry a reminder that rage, when disciplined, can become defense; that cloth and cuirass are not merely protection but a story you become part of, stitched into every step you take through a changing world.