Cleric's Conjurer Mantle of Hoelbrak

The Cleric's Conjurer Mantle of Hoelbrak drapes over a wooden peg as if waiting for winter to claim its due. The fabric is pale frost-blue wool, with a soft, almost velvet-like nap that catches lamplight and makes the mantle glow from within. Silver thread runs along the hem in frostwork filigree, catching every spark of flame and turning it into a halo around the wearer’s chest. A hood sits high and generous, lined with plush charcoal fur that traps warmth against the cold wind that slips through Hoelbrak’s mountain corridors. On the back, an embroidered emblem—three interlaced runes cradled by a conjurer’s crescent—speaks of a lineage where healing, warding, and ice-touched conjury were once braided into a single oath. The silhouette is ceremonial yet practical, designed to endure vigils and long marches alike, as if the mantle itself keeps a veteran company through the long hours of night watch. Lore threads through its fibers the way moonlight threads through bare branches. Old stories tell of a cleric-conjurer who walked Hoelbrak’s halls during a winter of blizzards, weaving sigils into the mantle to steady novices who trembled at the first frost. The mantle passed from hand to hand like a pledge, a reminder that power, without restraint, is a cold thing, and that warmth—so often taken for granted—is a form of protection as much as a gift. When the northern wind blows through the temple’s arches, the cloak is said to hum with a quiet resonance, a reminder that the order’s duty is to comfort as much as to confront. In gameplay terms, it’s more than a pretty old piece of fabric. Worn by those who stride the line between support and survivability, the mantle’s presence marks a wearer as a guardian in the front lines of the frost and flame. Its conjury-tagged lineage makes it a natural fit for characters who blend healing with ice-based utility, turning cold power into steady resilience for a party that must weather harsh approaches and harsher realities. The texture and color make it a vivid signal to allies: a veteran of long watches, a keeper of the late-night vigil when the world seems to slow and listen. And in quiet moments, the mantle invites conversation—a reminder of Hoelbrak’s history and the rituals that still color the fabric of daily life. Alleys and arcades near Hoelbrak’s market thrum with commerce and rumor, and the mantle travels with that mingling of truth and speculation. You’ll hear traders speak of it in hushed tones, noting that the price, like the winter itself, shifts with wind and desire. It’s not uncommon to hear of a sale through the Saddlebag Exchange, that storied caravan market where a mantle can pass from hand to hand along with stories as precious as the cloth. One season the price might rest in gold, another in a mix of trade goods and memories, as if the mantle’s own history negotiates its worth as much as any coin. In this way, the Cleric’s Conjurer Mantle of Hoelbrak remains a living artifact—part garment, part oath, part travelogue—carrying the weight of Hoelbrak’s cold wisdom into every room it enters.