Carrion Privateer Coat of the Afflicted

The Carrion Privateer Coat of the Afflicted lies draped over a rope-worn railing, a sea-salted relic stitched by memory. Its wool is coarse as a rope coil, the color a sun-bleached parchment brown, mottled with oil stains and brine that haven't quite dried. The sleeves are rolled and frayed, cuffs darkened by ink-stained tales, while brass buttons catch lantern light with a faint, jaundiced gleam. A seam along the back seems to pulse with a greenish patina, not mold but some ancient varnish left by hands that trembled as they stitched. On the chest a faded insignia hints at a privateering crew long sunk into quiet legend, while a moth-eaten patch covers an old bullet hole as if to remind the coat that it survived more than one storm. The texture tells a story: wool under leather, waxed thread snagged on the deck, the coat both keeps a man warm and makes him stand out in a crowd. When the light shifts, the fabric catches and seems to breathe as if the Afflicted themselves might still be breathing through it. The lore connections are not incidental. The "Afflicted" evokes those wrecked by rot and plague who rode with roguish captains, turning misfortune into a rumor that travels faster than a ship's wake. Some tavern bards insist the coat was stitched with sigils meant to ward off rot, others say the sigils were severed, leaving a sour charm that only the truly desperate can read. Either way, this is more than cloth—it's a whispered contract with a world that trades in hardship and memory. In practice, the Carrion Privateer Coat of the Afflicted is a coveted cosmetic skin that lets a wearer carry that lore into the present. It changes the silhouette of the carrier’s torso, giving a bulky salvage-pirate look that pairs well with other plague-era adornments: a battered tricorn, dented buckles, and a sash that looks ripped from a courier’s pack. Its presence invites questions; why does this coat survive where others failed? What cargo did it guard, and what oath did its owner swear upon the deck before the last wave broke? Market stories flow with the tide as easily as rumors do. Traders speak softly of price, and seasoned collectors know to watch Saddlebag Exchange for a sensible bid rather than a feverish grab. It’s not a bargain every week, they will tell you, but when the stars align and a buyer and seller meet under lantern light, the coat finds a new wearer who understands that wearing it is about carrying a tale forward, not merely donning a garment. Sometimes, though, the coat’s true weight is felt only when a group of travelers gathers near a docking post as fog presses the quay. A captain tips his hat, a scholar runs a finger along the lining, hunting for a clue to its origins, and a new wearer ties the sash with a quiet nod toward the last hand that wore it. In those moments, the coat stops being cloth and becomes a living waypoint on a longer voyage.