Sentinel's Banded Legs of Strength

Sentinel's Banded Legs of Strength catch the light as you lift them, two greaves of tempered steel banded with alternating rings of dark iron and pale brass, riveted along the seams where runes have been hammered in long, careful strokes. The surface wears a quiet patina, not quite tarnished but seasoned by travel, with the sentinel sigil etched in a shallow relief that seems to pulse when a torch is nearby. The leather straps are worn smooth by miles of marching, the inside padded with a whisper-soft lining that smells faintly of oil and rain. They feel substantial in the hand, heavy enough to remind you that protection has a cost, yet flexible enough to bend with a warrior’s stride. The texture invites a touch, a reminder that they were forged for a hands-on world: metal singing against bone, brass catching sun, and the resonance of a guard’s oath pressed into the grain. I found them in a ruined beacon’s chest, tucked behind a fallen beam where vines squeezed through the slats and the wind carried whispers of a dozen patrols. A veteran who had walked that boundary between order and chaos must have worn these, for the sigil bears the mark of a sentinel who never abandoned a post, even when the city’s bells rang false. The legs tell a story of patrol routes and late-night vigils, of footsteps that learned to carry the weight of more than one life. When you slide them on, the world narrows to a corridor of purpose: you can feel the chain mail and leather kiss your calves with confident support, and the steady weight anchors your balance as if the ground itself were tilting toward danger and you refuse to fall. In practical terms, they aren’t mere relics but instruments of a wider strategy. The Strength they confer—paired with a seasoned build—turns raw endurance into forward motion. A guardian with these greaves gains a notable cadence: a heavier, steadier advance into skirmish lines, a boost to shield-bashed bursts, and a chance to weather brutal melee with less fatigue on the follow-through. They’re not the flashiest piece, but they lend a patient power, the kind that makes a shield wall feel less like a barrier and more like a moving wall, a promise that the next strike will land because you have the wind at your back and the weight of duty behind you. Their lore speaks to the old nights when sentinels kept watch along the rain-darkened gates, boots pressed into the earth as if the ground remembered their steps and kept time with their resolve. Prices drift in markets as surely as storms roll off the sea, and in the bustling Saddlebag Exchange you’ll hear the talk of quills and coins as traders weigh history against current need. A pair like these often sits at a few gold or more, depending on how many patrons have stood over the chest and how many stories the sigil can still tell. A careful buyer can walk away with both piece and memory, a stride restored and a tale to carry into the next dusk-ward march. By dusk, the Sentinel’s Banded Legs of Strength feel less like armor and more like a pact you’ve chosen to keep, a living fragment of the road you’ve sworn to walk.