Cleric's Reinforced Scale Helm of the Flock

Cleric's Reinforced Scale Helm of the Flock sits on the worktable like a weathered relic, its layered plates catching the lamp's amber glow. Each scale is hammered into a perfect crescent, overlapping like a row of tiny shields. The crest at the brow—a stylized flock of birds breaking formation—etched in silver and darkened to a pewter patina, as if a thousand prayers have rubbed the metal smooth. The helmet's interior is lined with soft, pale leather, cracked from years of wear, and a thin leather strap runs around the base, buckling snugly under the chin. The overall silhouette is ceremonial yet stubbornly practical, a paradox suited for a healer who has to walk through dust and glare alike. To hold it is to feel the Flock's oath settle across your shoulders. The scales whisper of protection earned in the field, of nights spent tending the wounded beneath a storm-racked sky. In combat, its weight anchors the wearer, offering sturdy defense without sacrificing mobility—an ideal balance for support builds that must weave in and out of skirmishes. The helm's runic brow suggests an affinity with healing and boon-work: a sigil slot waits to accept a boon-enhancing sigil, allowing the wearer to buff allies with steady Aegis, Regeneration, or protection. Wielded by the Clerics who travel to guide pilgrims through plague-ridden roads, the helm has become a symbol: the Flock moves as one, not a lone healer, and this headgear is the head of that motion. It's less about raw power and more about durable presence—the sense that, when you take the stage, healing and hope stand with you, plated in iron and memory. Market scenes bloom around it as well. On market days, a distance trader might lift the helmet by the chain mail ties and appraise its worth against a chorus of coins and trade gossip. The Saddlebag Exchange—a relay point for caravans and collectors—often proves decisive in determining its fate. A seasoned merchant there would mention its price in the same breath as its burden of lore: two gold coins and a handful of silver, depending on the inscriptions and the travel-wear it bears. If the runes glow faintly or the inner leather remains supple, the price climbs; if the patina is chipped and the crest worn smooth, a patient buyer might bargain it down. Still, even in a measured market, the helm’s reputation travels ahead: a helm worn by healers who carried the sick and the stranded, now a collectible, a utility piece, and a reminder of a road-worn oath. To own it is to carry a chapter of that road with you. The Cleric's Reinforced Scale Helm of the Flock does not merely guard a head; it guards a story—one of caravan petitions, whispered prayers, and the quiet courage to stand between danger and those who cannot stand for themselves. And sometimes, in a busy square or a quiet backstreet, you glimpse its reflection in a window and you understand: the world might spin, but some vows are meant to be worn.