Berserker's Rawhide Shoulders

Berserker's Rawhide Shoulders sit heavy on the wearer, the leather dark as storm-touched bark, each plate a curved crescent of tanned hide that overlaps like scales of a hardy beast. The surface is coarse beneath the fingertips, yet smooth where oils have sunk in, a patina of years and miles traveled. Brass rivets wink along the seams, catching the light with a quiet, confident gleam. A small shoulder plate bears the clan sigil—a roaring bear in a circle of runes—burnished to a coppery sheen and pressed into the hide with patient insistence. The edges show a few honest nicks, memories of skirmishes in sun-baked plains and mist-wet forests, a veteran’s weather on every crease. If you heft the piece, the leather gives with a deliberate creak, as though it’s still listening to the voice of the hunter who wore it before you. Tales whisper that the hide was cured with river ash and kept cool by the breath of northern winds, a relic of a savage practicality carried into a more orderly age. In the world’s daily march, the shoulders do more than frame a silhouette; they speak to a philosophy of battle. When you slip them on, the room seems to tilt toward action—the fit is snug enough to feel immediate, the weight a reminder that you move faster than you think. The Rawhide should not overshadow the heart of a build, yet it amplifies it: light on the shoulders, heavy on intent. The design rewards aggression with mobility, a staple of berserker play that favors bursts over bruising defense. Together with the right weapons, it creates a rhythm: quick feints, rapid strikes, and an exit before the enemy can blink. In open combat, you’re a sinuous thread in a larger tapestry, your presence announced by the crackle of leather and the glint of that clan crest. It’s a piece that invites, even demands, the kind of bravado that doesn’t burn out after the first exchange but deepens as the fight wears on. Leather and lore fuse here, a practical armor that tells a story as you sprint from cover to cover and back again. Market chatter threads the experience with a practical pulse. I’ve seen Berserker's Rawhide Shoulders drift through Saddlebag Exchange as surely as dawn drifts across a camp. A caravan vendor will lay them out with a price that mirrors the piece’s demand—pristine examples fetch a higher sum, while wearers bargain with the same candor you bring to any hunt. One afternoon, a listing glowed with a straightforward tag, and the chatter around it circled the campfires: a price hovering in the mid-silver range, sometimes creeping toward coins when a buyer negotiates with the right mix of experience and blind faith in the leather’s return on a risky ride. It’s the sort of exchange that rewards patience—watch the market, pounce when the leather speaks to your story, and you’ll find yourself not merely wearing a piece of gear, but carrying a narrative forward into every battle, every dusk, every long road home.