Cleric's Mithril Imbued Inscription

Cleric's Mithril Imbued Inscription gleams on a palm-sized plate of pale mithril, its surface hammered with fine, astronomy-like facets. The edges are smoothly beveled, worn smooth by journeys through crowded markets and quiet sanctuaries. Runes coil around a central sigil—a delicate feather, wings half-spread—etched in a glow that shifts from pale blue to soft silver as lantern light moves. The texture feels cool and decisive, like a trusted vow pressed into metal; runes whisper of oaths kept, of healers who stood between dying night and dawn. In the old tongues, these inscriptions were blessed in temple forges, where clerics sang prayers into the metal until it learned to remember mercy. The inscription carries the weight of purification, a fusion of mithril's resilience and healing magic, designed to endure a dozen skirmishes and more than one broken oath. When bound to gear, the Cleric's Mithril Imbued Inscription unlocks a quiet, practical mercy in the heat of battle. Worn on a ring, amulet, or the edge of a protective shield, it grants a modest uplift to healing power and to the wearer's ability to cleanse conditions—an edge that can mean a saved life when the frontline buckles. Players discover that it harmonizes with devotion-based builds, its glow intensifying as a healing circle expands or a consecration spell lands true. In trials and sieges, the inscription feels less like a trinket and more like a silent ally, guiding the cleric's hands and steadying the party's breath. The world remembers such pieces not as static rewards but as pass-through talismans, passing from hand to hand with stories attached. A veteran healer might withdraw the inscription from a bandaged corpse and press it into a student's palm, insisting that mercy be earned anew in each skirmish. A caravan guard, seeing the suppression of fear in the camp, might trade for it in the market square, knowing it could soften a bad night for those on the road. And in these days, the Saddlebag Exchange becomes the crossroads where value, legend, and practical need converge. In its stalls, a cleric’s emblem might trade for a fair amount of gold, or for a like-new leather case that carries hope as surely as it carries trinkets. So the Cleric's Mithril Imbued Inscription continues its quiet career, traveling with scavengers, scholars, and shepherds, always returning to a hand that chooses mercy over malice. Its story is not just about a metal plate and a rune, but about what a single, small blessing can do when carried into the world—an inscription that heals, endures, and endures again. On nights when the moon is thin and wind carries dust from markets, the inscription's blue glow softens to a whisper and then brightens as a cleric tends to a wounded caravan. A map-maker copies the symbol in a leather journal, noting its effect on a healer's staff. Buyers at Saddlebag Exchange trade coins for such talismans, hoping to anchor their crews in faith and memory. The inscription endures, a beacon in times.