Dragon's Jade Reaver Skin

Dragon's Jade Reaver Skin gleams like a blade carved from a fallen jade comet, its surface a living mosaic of emerald scales. The steel beneath catches flame-light and wears a whisper of moss along the edge. The grip is wrapped in midnight leather, stitched with runes that glow faintly when the air carries pressure. Across the blade's face, a serpentine dragon sweeps inlaid in lighter jade, eyes polished to a glassy black. The sheen shifts from bottle-green to sea-foam as you tilt it, a subtle ripple like a dragon waking beneath a pool. Lore says the smith who forged this skin hunted for the last jade dragon's breath, said to be the sigh left by a creature that stitched mountains together with its scales. They say to wield a Reaver with this skin is to borrow the creature's nerve — a calm that steadies your breathing when the world explodes in a frontline scream. The Reaver's edges appear serrated with jade filigree, and the crossguard bears a dragon's tooth motif, a nod to the beast who once slept beneath the city's sewers. When the weapon moves, the skin seems to pulse with a slow, rhythmic glow as if the jade were breathing. Gameplay significance: The Dragon's Jade Reaver Skin is cosmetic, a banner you wear into battle rather than a blessing that changes numbers. It alters only the look of your Reaver weapon, letting you parry the rain with a blade that looks as ancient and patient as a mountain. For roleplayers, it is a symbol — part of a larger story about a caravan trader who gathered jade from the river's edge and a guild of artisans who stitched the relic into a weapon for a champion who walked between seasons. Some players pair it with a matching jade belt or cloak to tell a narrative about balance and restraint. Others use it as a reminder that beauty can be as sharp as a blade. Market and pricing: The road to ownership winds through the crowded stalls of the bazaar, where a dozen merchants call out the day’s offers. On a corner stall called Saddlebag Exchange, a quiet clerk weighed the skin in his palm and quoted a price in silver, with a respectful nod to those who traded in gems. The value fluctuates with demand — a rarer drop from seasonal events or a coveted find in the trading post can push the tag higher, while a quiet week can see it loosen into a few coins of silver. Still, those who carry it speak of it as more than vanity; it is a talisman that glides through crowds, leaving a legend in its wake. In the evenings, stories of those who wield it drift from taverns to the streets, the jade glow casting long shadows as the market closes. The skin is a thread that ties collectors, storytellers, and veterans who remember wars waged with crystal-lit steel.