Rampager's Cabalist Shoulders of the Flock

Rampager's Cabalist Shoulders of the Flock catch the sun with a brassy gleam, the leather beneath weathered to a warm patina, and feather motifs stitched along the seams in shades of onyx and ash. The pauldrons rise like small wings, purposeful, as if the wearer is half predator, half sentinel. Each plate bears nods to raptor lore—the scalloped edges echo a beak, the clasps are etched with a quill and crescent, and a soft lattice inside promises protection without muffling breath. The texture is more than seen: a story pressed into hide and metal, a map of miles walked through sun and storm. The Flock’s lore threads through the workmanship itself. Whispers tell of cabalists who rode the wind with crows and hawks, guiding caravans of exiles through ash and rain, using these shoulders as a marker for those who would lead with both mind and maul. When the Cabalist of the Flock laid them on a hunter, they become a signal—a bond with birds above that you are their ally, and a shield to your comrades below. Rampager’s design, in particular, suits a world where ferocity is tempered by cunning; this pair of shoulders was made for the moment a scout locks eyes with a distant tower, signals a charge, and finds the path through a storm. In gameplay terms, they carry a resonance that sharpens the wearer’s edge—an invitation to lean into swift, decisive blows while standing firm when the melee swirls around you. They are not just a badge of style but a practical anchor for those who push forward with a rogue’s speed or a ranger’s patience. For rangers and frontline dreamers who march with a small flock of quick decisions, the shoulders offer a sense of cohesion: as you pivot, your strikes seem to carry the weight of a coordinated advance, as if the Flock itself is lending you a chorus of guidance. The feathered motif isn’t mere ornament; it glows faintly under bright light when a critical hit lands, like a signal flare in the air that you’ve earned a moment of borrowed wind. If you drift past the market stalls and into a quieter moment on the edge of town, Saddlebag Exchange becomes part of the story you overhear rather than part of a guide. A wary trader will tell you that a pristine set in this style typically rests between eight and twelve gold, with the feathers’ glow or the runes’ shimmer nudging the price higher. A few coins can slip one way or another depending on enchantments or the bargaining song in the buyer’s throat. One customer swore they paid less for a worn but well-loved example, another insisted on trading in old pelts and rare hides to seal the deal. And so the Rampager’s Cabalist Shoulders of the Flock stay with you, not merely as armor but as a banner: a memory of the wind’s push, of a mentor’s measured eye, and of the moment when a lone hunter becomes part of a larger flight. Wearing them, you walk a line between spear and shelter, between the hunt and the herd, between traveler's grit and keeper of the flock.