Cleric's Reinforced Scale Legs of the Flock

Cleric's Reinforced Scale Legs of the Flock catch the candlelight with a careful shimmer, as if a small choir of scales had learned to sing in metal. The plates are a mosaic of dusk-green and brass, edged with a fine, almost feather-scalloped pattern that runs from thigh to ankle. The knee guards resemble tiny, wing-swept shields, and the leather beneath is dyed a soft ivory, worn smooth by long pilgrimages and careful stitching. A sigil of the Flock—an open wing cradling a pearled star—is inlaid along the outer thigh, barely visible at distance, but catching the eye up close. The whole piece feels weighted more by memory than metal: you can hear the soft rustle of every step, the way the scales settle in response to your stride, as if the armor were listening to the prayers you carry. This is not merely armor; it is a token of vow. The Cleric who wore the Reinforced Scale Legs was said to walk at the edge of a caravan protecting a flock of refugees, their wagons rattling like seedpods in a wind. Legends tell that the scales were hammered in a scriptorium that double-bolts as a reliquary, each strike blessing the metal with a small mercy—better balance when stepping on slick stones, steadier footing on uneven ground, a quick reflex for dodging the sudden, hungry bite of the world. The Flock, in those stories, moves as a single breath, and these legs are the heartbeat of that breath: sturdy, faithful, quietly brave. In practical terms, the legs are prized by healers, clerics, and steadfast scouts who must carry weight and care for allies at the same time. They shield the legs without clamping the joints, offering protection without turning every stride into a stumble. The reinforced plates bite into the dirt with the rust-red scent of iron and resin, and the greaves ride with you when you kneel to tend a wounded comrade or climb a crumbling stair to overlook a battlefield’s bleak horizon. The Flock's pattern aligns with a healer's kit and a longer reach with a staff, shaping a silhouette that tells allies who you are before you speak. Market chatter around Saddlebag Exchange makes the item feel both intimate and distant. A cleric might pause at the stall between peddler and pilgrim, watching a listing drift from one hand to another as the vendor recounts the leg's tale while tallying coin. Prices here move with rumor and demand—tends to hover in the mid to high silver range for looser parts, with rare bundles nudging into the golds when a collector seeks the full set. The Exchange thrives on stories like this: the same leg that once carried a caravan’s keep now carries a new owner into dawn. When someone straps on Cleric's Reinforced Scale Legs of the Flock, the world seems to tilt just a degree toward mercy. A traveler who values protection, history, and the quiet confidence that comes from walking in step with a flock will recognize in these plates the promise of many miles, many prayers, and a future that respects the weight of the past.