Zho's Coat

Zho's Coat rests on its hanger like a map rolled halfway open, the fabric catching the lamplight in dusk-blue highlights. The coat's surface is a deep, oily black wool, brushed so it looks almost velvet at close range, with copper thread stitching that glints when a torch passes. The buttons are carved metal, each enamel cracked, a sigil that may recall a courier's crest. The collar stands high, guarding the neck, and a belt of worn leather cinches the waist. The texture carries the memory of rain—water beads off in little stars, and the fabric retains a stubborn warmth even after long nights on the road. A patch near the hem, sewn with careful hands, bears the sketch of a phoenix-like bird—the emblem of Zho, a name spoken with reverence by old caravaners who kept faith with a man who vanished along the Dragon's Spine. Lore connections: Zho's Coat is said to have been stitched in a makeshift market tent by someone who learned to read the weather in the grain of fabric. It passed from hand to hand during a season when caravans were raided by storm pirates and the roadways tasted ash. The coat is more than attire; it's a token of endurance, a talisman to remind its wearer to keep their path and not lose sight of the route home. Some elders whisper that Zho's spirit lingers in the copper threads, warming the wearer’s heart in icy nights and guiding their choices when the coin is light. In gameplay, the coat serves as a statement piece that blends utility with storytelling. When equipped, it gives the wearer a modest defensive boost in chaotic melee and a cooldown-free boost to stamina regeneration during long treks from town to outpost. It’s the kind of item that rewards careful planning—for example, a scout who wears Zho's Coat can press forward through stealthy approaches, trusting the coat’s wind-breaking weave to keep exposure low while they reposition. The garment also nods to players who chase rare aesthetics, turning heads in cities where collectors trade tales as much as goods. Saddlebag Exchange enters the scene in a trader’s anecdote—an old-timer recounts how he bought a pristine Zho's Coat there years ago, bargaining with a merchant who valued not just the fabric but the story behind it. The price at Saddlebag Exchange shifts with market breezes and seasons, he says, sometimes a little when a new commission drifts into town, sometimes more when a buyer names the exact sigil on the cuff. A buyer today might pay in gold or vials of resin, but what matters is the exchange—the moment a traveler’s past becomes another’s future. So Zho's Coat remains more than cloth; it’s a corridor between routes, a reminder that every journey leaves a mark and that some coats carry the weather, the lore, and the will to keep walking. If you listen carefully, the coat rustles with invitation to follow a quieter trail, where courage is measured in stories beside fires tonight.