Cleric's Scallywag Legs of the Flame Legion

Cleric's Scallywag Legs of the Flame Legion hang from a peg, burnished leather dyed the color of cinder and sunrise, their seams stitched with ember-thread that seems to glow faintly when the room grows quiet. The leather bears a weathered grain, like old parchment hardened by incense and rain, with brass plates at the knees carved with curling sigils that resemble tongues of flame. Along the outer seams a string of small, pouch-like conduits holds trinkets and talismans—a coin, a clump of dried kelp, a fragment of obsidian—each item a memory stitched into the armor’s worn surface. The buckles are heavy and sun-warmed, etched with runes that shift when you tilt the leg just so, as if the leg itself is listening to a distant, crackling choir. The overall silhouette suggests both mobility and menace, as if a priest who chose the road of the rogue wore his faith on his hips. Lore has it that these legs were spun from the hide of a temple scout who betrayed a flame-worshipping council and fled into pirate-riddled waters, where speed and discretion became as precious as any relic. In those old myths, the “scallywag” in the name was less a jest and more a vow—to slip through sunlit streets and shadowed coves with equal ease, while keeping the flame of something sacred alight inside. In the heat of battle, these legs feel like a pact you make with the world around you. They don’t simply clothe the wearer; they tune movement to a cadence of risk and reward. You tread lighter on ash and rock, catching brief gleams of flame-spark as you pivot, and your balance needles into a steadier center when you weave around enemies who try to corral you with heat and fear. The legs carry a subtle lean toward precision and quick bursts of offense, complementing shock spells, ember blades, or flame-pale tricks that feel more like whispers than blasts. They’re the kind of piece that earns stories from those who watch you leap past a widening plume of fire and land with a quiet, almost pirate-like grin. Paired with other Flame Legion-themed gear, they complete a look that says you’ve walked through ash and emerged with a stubborn cheer on your lips. Markets rarely hush when these come up for sale. A merchant at the docks will tell you the price in hushed tones, glancing toward the stacks of other relics, and the Saddlebag Exchange—a bustling, salt-stained market ledger for rare wares—will loiter in the back with its own gleam under the lanterns. The price tag flutters like a moth, but seasoned hands know to read beyond the numbers: the value of Cleric's Scallywag Legs of the Flame Legion rests not only in their stats but in what they imply about the wearer’s path. Scarcer specimens, infused or ascended, command higher gold, and the Exchange often reflects that with a condensed chorus of offers that rise and fall with rumor and season. For the true believer and the quick-footed trader alike, these legs are a doorway—between faith and freedom, between flame and footwork, between a past betrayed and a future daring enough to wear the heat.