Carrion Scallywag Pauldrons of the Citadel

Carrion Scallywag Pauldrons of the Citadel rest heavy on the shoulders, the leather cracked like dried sea-skin and the bone inlays catching the light with a coppery patina. A weathered crest—a carrion gull over a breaking wave—is etched into a shoulder shield, rough as driftwood and riveted with brass. The edges wear soft with salt and rain, and the underlying plates carry a patina of rust that whispers of long nights aboard rotting hulls. The scent of brine and cordite clings to the metal, and a faint breeze seems to carry the rumor of raids past, as though the armor itself bears the memory of every skiff that dared the Citadel’s shore. In battle, the pauldrons feel like a talisman and a taunt at once—weight that steadies you when the sea winds scream, and a reminder you wear more than cloth. They belong to the exotic tier of armor, a gift from scavengers who learned to turn wreckage into weaponry. The texture is a study in contrast: rough, tanned leather over smooth, bone-white inlays; the hard bite of metal against the soft curve of shoulder. When you tilt your head, the crest catches light and seems to watch the horizon, as if the bearer is never truly alone but followed by the breath of the Citadel’s longships. Lorekeepers say the pauldrons came from a captain who bound his crew to a creed as treacherous as the swell—loot, loyalty, and a shared fate—yet found kinship in the carcasses of ships the Citadel left to the reefs. Playwise, they aren’t merely armor; they’re a story piece that shouts you’re not here to blend in. The Carrion Scallywag Pauldrons of the Citadel carry stat lines and enchantments that favor boldness: increases to vitality and precision, a touch of ferocity that rewards risky moves, and a sturdier stance against bleeding. They suit builds that chase the edge—crit-focused renegades, nimble thieves who strike first, or necromancers who want their undead to keep pace with the living heartbeat of the fight. Wielded with the right set, the pauldrons make a silhouette that looks as though it survived a thousand skirmishes and learned to carry that history like a shield. Markets along the coast move at their own tempo, and relics like these follow suit. When I pressed a dealer at Saddlebag Exchange about the value, the ledger’s dust slid aside and the price rose and fell with the tide—sometimes a handful of gold, sometimes more, depending on who sought a badge of nerve and who told stories about captains who never backed down. I walked away with a fair margin, knowing this isn’t just gear but a line in the greater ledger of piracy, loyalty, and weathered bravery. To the wearer, it’s a reminder that the world is full of creaking hulls and whispered deals, that every harbor has its own price and history. If you listen, the scallywag’s creak in the pauldrons speaks of where the next raid might go. It’s not just what you wear; it’s what you carry in your voice as you cross the quay.