Carrion Banded Legs of the Afflicted

Carrion Banded Legs of the Afflicted catch the torchlight with a slow gleam, the leather cracked into tight, scale-like rings, each plate riveted with steel that has learned to resist the bite of rain. The bands coil around the thighs like a suit of armor grown from the bones of some long-felled scavenger, and the edges bear a pale bone-white trim that catches every shard of candlelight. A layer of mildew sits in the grooves, and a faint coppery tang hangs in the air where metal meets skin. The knee guards bear a sigil – a skeletal ring curling into a thorned circle – said to mark wearers chosen by the Afflicted, a name whispered in field journals and tavern rumors. The texture blends smooth, oiled leather with the bite of aged plates, rough at the inner seam and still carrying the whisper of last-war marches. When you slide them on, you feel the weight of a plague-haunted march you never heard, as if the leg armor remembers a route through pestilent fields that mortals were warned to forget. These legs communicate more than history; they tell a story in how they move you through a fight. In the wilds, their heft is enough to turn aside a glancing blow and their inner lining holds a subtle mould that seems almost alive, a quiet reminder of rot and renewal. Players who lean into the carrion aesthetic often pair these with the other pieces in the Carrion set, letting the marks and the texture do the talking as they build a character who seems part healer, part scavenger, part omen. In practice, the legs pair well with survivability-focused builds that value bulk and resilience, yet their appearance invites rumors about plague wards and necromantic pacts, letting a wearer slip into roleplay as much as into the next dungeon run. You hear whispers in the party, about life-steal and vampiric vigor that the set is rumored to enable, though the truth is often more mundane: the armor simply offers sturdy protection and a look that makes enemies and allies alike pause to read the wearer’s history before their next strike. Market chatter rounds out the tale. At Saddlebag Exchange, I watched a quiet barter take place as a stout trader weighed the leather’s scent, turned the sigil in the palm, and opened a small tin to count coins. The price slid between glimmering gold coins and a pocketful of silver, with a couple of sharp-eyed buyers testing the fakes against a sun-warmed patch on the sleeve. A couple of glances later, the deal closed, the legs changing hands and continuing their journeys as proof that some relics endure not by rumor or boast but by the road they have walked. So the Carrion Banded Legs of the Afflicted remain more than steel and leather; they are a memory worn on the thighs, a constant reminder of the afflicted path through the map’s oldest sicknesses, and a stubborn sign that some armor does more than protect—it carries a history and a voice that won’t quite lie down.