Strong Worn Scale Pauldrons of the Lich

Strong Worn Scale Pauldrons of the Lich sit heavy on my shoulders, each scale a memory of a long-forgotten battle. The plates catch the torchlight with a dull, iridescent gleam, like wet obsidian layered over bone. The edges are chipped, the brass rivets dulled by rain and time, yet the runic sigils along the seams pulse faintly when the necrotic currents in the air hum nearby. A thread of ebony leather holds them on, and the inner lining smells of ash and resin, as if the armor had spent decades sheltered in some crypt, listening to a whispered oath. When you lift your arms, the pauldrons shift with a quiet sigh, as if a long-dormant creature were settling back into its rain-slicked hide. There is lore here, too: the Lich, once a commander of bone and ash, is said to have forged such pieces from dragon-scale remnants and the touch of the void, to bind its will to the wearer through cold oath-work etched into every scale. In the game world, they are more than looks. They invite questions in dauntless scrambles through tombs and marshes: how far will you go to shoulder the necrotic legacy? The Strong Worn Scale Pauldrons of the Lich offer a sturdy protection without sacrificing your mobility; their weight anchors your stance, while the runes subtly sharpen your necromantic focus. For a player leaning into minions and control, the armor helps you sustain your assault: not by brute life-steal alone, but by reinforcing the moment when your skills siphon vitality from the fallen and push it back toward your own chest. You’ll notice the armor’s quiet magic when you unleash a shadowy burst—bones seem to rearrange in your favor, and the edge of your spellcraft feels a little more married to your will. It’s the kind of piece that seems to whisper, “We endure so you may endure longer,” even as its scales creak under strain. Prices drift like candlelight in a caravan’s market. If you swing by Saddlebag Exchange, you’ll hear merchants trade stories as much as numbers, haggling over the exact weight of time and enmity. A well-preserved pair like these can fetch a respectable sum, often hovering in the mid-to-upper gold range depending on server demand, enchantments, and how fresh the lich-tinge remains. On a good day, thoughtful buyers parley with sellers, trading leather and lore for a share of the spires and tombs they’ve traversed. The market breathes, and the pauldrons move with it—sometimes a quiet gold, sometimes a proud coin, always a reminder of the price of power and protection. They’re not mere gear; they’re a thread in a broader tapestry of conquest, a relic that threads the wearer to ages when necromancy wore a crown and the world listened before it fell silent. For those who carry them, the Strong Worn Scale Pauldrons of the Lich become a hinge between past and present, a weight you can bear, and a story you can tell with every measured step. That is the promise they bind to anyone who chooses to wear them.