Cleric's Banded Pauldrons of Rata Sum

Cleric's Banded Pauldrons of Rata Sum rest on the shoulders of a traveler like a second heartbeat—hammered pewter plates arranged in a defensive crescent, the joints sculpted into clean, interlocking arcs. Each plate carries a matte sheen that catches the light in a way that makes the surface look almost woven, as if tiny threads of blue-lantern glow have been pressed into the metal. The outer bands are etched with delicate sigils—thin cobalt lines that trace a lattice around the shoulder, looping into spirals that suggest both protection and study. On the uppermost plate sits a small disc, inset with a pale crystal that seems to breathe with the room’s air, faintly pulsing whenever a ward rises or a healing touch lands precisely where it should. The edges are beveled for practical movement, but the overall silhouette remains ceremonial in its certainty, a reminder that protection can be both austere and intimate. Rata Sum, with its towers of glass and calculation, deserves a whisper of lore to match the workmanship. These pauldrons were forged in the shadow of the city’s equations, intended for clerics who walked the edge between spell and shield. The Asura smiths who signed the metal with their careful marks believed that armor could be more than mere barrier; it could be a conduit for intention. When a cleric raised their hands to channel a ward, the sigils would glow faintly along the bands, as if the wearer were dialoguing with geometry itself. In the old liturgies sung during the wards’ rekindling, these pauldrons were said to listen as much as they spoke—absorbing stray spark of hostility and bending it into a steady, even rhythm of defense. So the piece feels almost alive when you move in it: the crystal’s rhythm, the sigils’ whisper, the careful balance between heft and grace. In gameplay terms, the Cleric's Banded Pauldrons of Rata Sum function as a rare bridge between protection and support. They lend a steadying presence in skirmishes where time and space bend under pressure, allowing a healer or support-minded defector to keep pace with frontline demands. The wearer can anchor a line, shedding a portion of hostile energy into a ward that lasts a tense heartbeat longer than ordinary defenses, while the rune-work intensifies healing ease for allies standing near the arc of the protective circle. It’s the sort of piece that makes sense in a narrative: a field cleric who keeps their team upright while the room grows tight with danger, and the city’s guardians watching from the glass towers above. Market day in the city’s winding lanes finds the pauldrons traded with a quiet, almost reverent speed. I watched a dealer from Saddlebag Exchange cradle the shoulder pieces, tracing the blue sigils with a gloved fingertip as if testing their resonance. The asking price drifted in the gold range—an honest mark for a historian’s relic that still bears practical weathering from dungeon runs and ritual recitals. The exchange nodded, coins clinking, and the piece found a new owner who promised to wear it not as armor alone, but as a story: of Rata Sum’s rigor, of wards spoken into metal, and of a traveler who learned to move with light in the weight of metal.