Carrion Cabalist Coat

Carrion Cabalist Coat, a dark silhouette of worn leather and bone, hangs like a shadow drawn tight across a doorway. Its surface is matte as ash, etched with sigils that glint when candlelight touches them. A ragged fur collar—the color of midnight sea—crowns the shoulders, and copper-thread spirals trace the seams in ribbed, living lines. Beads, small and bone-pale, nod at the hem and cuffs, rattling softly with every breath of the wind. A faint green patina lingers where the sigils meet skin, as if the coat remembers every corridor it has weathered. Lore clings to it in whispers: a cabalist’s garment, sewn to cradle the wearer’s life force and guide it toward the next oath sworn in the dark. On the skin it feels like a second heartbeat—solid, intimate, listening. The fabric weighs a touch more than ordinary leather, and the sigils seem to hum as you move, aligning your steps with unseen currents. In practice, the coat is prized not merely for flair but for its stubborn resilience. It tethers vitality, dampens the sting of conditions, and nudges lifeforce into calculated channels during combat. It won’t win a fight alone, but it broadens the margins: a moment longer in the fray, a safer retreat behind a stalled assault, a smoother chain of blows that drains an enemy and sustains the wearer. The cloak’s glow rises when danger nears, as if the shadow itself is borrowing a spark from the wearer’s resolve. I found it in the ruined apothecary at a crossroads market, where a tired vendor spoke in the language of ash and spice. He claimed the coat belonged to a cabalist who bargained with forbidden winds and traveled in the wake of plague and mournful bells. The sale was as much a confidence as a bargain—an exchange of memory and future chances. People who seek this item come from caravan routes and border camps, hoping to blend speed with survivability while the road gnaws at their supplies. Saddlebag Exchange is where the coat reveals its market life. Listings glow with uncertainty: a pristine example can fetch several gold; a worn variant with a softer glow might drift lower, depending on the season and the collector’s mood. Buyers and sellers haggle in hushed tones, trading salvaged inks, rare shells, or weathered scrolls for the right to carry its aura for a while. Seasonal events shift demand, and the coat’s value follows the length of journeys and the number of tombs the wearer is willing to walk. As dusk settles, the Carrion Cabalist Coat remains more than cloth and thread. It travels with its wearer, turning a gust into a murmur, a quiet reminder that some garments are inhabited as much as worn. In the world’s ledger of bargains and plagues, it keeps writing its own slow, patient chapter.