Carrion Conjurer Pants of Rata Sum

Carrion Conjurer Pants of Rata Sum sit against the leg like a shadow-woven map, a pair of deep-ink fabrics stitched with bone-white thread that seems to hum faintly when you move. The front panels carry leather insets as if armor itself had learned to lean into necromantic craft, while the thighs bear a delicate lattice of sigils that glow a pale, anodized green in dim light. The waist is reinforced with a band of dark hide, studded with tiny bone beads that rattle softly with every step, a sonic reminder of the gear’s macabre lineage. From a distance they look like a meticulous costume piece, but up close you can feel the residue of experiments that bled into the thread—an echo of late nights in a Rata Sum workshop where projected theories and stubborn patience collided. The pants carry more than texture; they carry a story. In the lore worn into their seams, a conjurer of Rata Sum learned to bind carrion and essence with precision, coaxing life from the dead rather than from the living. The Asura artisans, forever tinkering with the border between life and the void, stitched in runes that speak of controlled decay and measured release. When you walk in them, you can imagine a circle of minions trotting at your side, each one fed not only by magic but by the careful economy of bones and sigils that these pants whisper aloud. It’s a garment of discretion as much as display, telling onlookers that you respect the delicate balance between power and restraint, between the spark of conjuring and the grave calm that follows. In the moment-to-moment of play, these pants translate lore into practical presence. They fit a character who channels carrion magics with a measured hand, pairs well with a hooded cloak and a belt of talismans, and suit a build that leans on your ability to manage minions and sustain conditions over time. You might see the glow shimmer every time you refresh a condition, as if the sigils are tracking your rhythm, or notice that your swifter, crunchier march through conflict keeps your entourage of dead-and-living silhouettes in concert. They’re not flashy armor that shouts for attention; they’re the quiet backbone of a necromancer’s theater, where each summoned presence feels earned and each moment of control has its price paid in bone and breath. Market rumor is part of any conjurer’s life, and the path to ownership is rarely straightforward. I’ve heard tell that a pair like these could turn up at Saddlebag Exchange, traded with stories rather than coins—an even exchange where a tale about a long night of experiments can shorten the wait for a hand-stitched emblem or a rare infusion. When price is named, it tends to float between reputation and utility, shimmering like a sigil under candlelight, the sort of thing a patient buyer or a persuasive vendor can steer toward a fair agreement. Ultimately, the Carrion Conjurer Pants of Rata Sum are more than fabric and stitch; they are a bridge between the world’s living pulse and the patient cadence of the dead. They cloak the wearer in the memory of Asura laboratories and the careful art of restraint, inviting you to walk the edge where conjuration becomes a story you tell with each step.