Assassin's Feathered Mantle

Assassin's Feathered Mantle drapes over the shoulders with a hush of fabric, a cloak of night stitched with raven feathers that catch the light like liquid ink. The cloth is a whisper-thin black silk, the edge trimmed with a silver thread that shimmers as the wearer moves. A brass clasp, shaped like a quill in flight, anchors the mantle at the throat, keeping its silhouette pristine as feet slide across shadows. The feathers lie in careful layers, each plume positioned to slice through air and eyes alike, while the lining—a soft charcoal satin—glows faintly with tiny runes, a nod to the mantle's storied past. This is not mere cloth but a badge of the quiet craft, a piece that seems to remember the footsteps of every keeper of secrets who wore it before. In tavern tales and old patrol ledgers, the mantle is linked to an order that moved beneath the city walls, where night-air tasted of iron and rain. They spoke of a master who wore this mantle during the most delicate rescues, when a whisper could save a life and a footstep could vanish into the fog. Whether true or told to scare wrongdoers, the lore adds weight to its presence: a symbol of restraint, precision, and the willingness to leave nothing but a memory. When players glimpse the mantle on a character, the world slows a breath, as if the air itself expects a careful, deliberate act rather than a reckless rush. In actual play, the mantle is valued for its silhouette as much as for its supposed lineage. It is a backpiece, so it does not directly change numbers, yet it helps define a stealthy, surgical style: light armor tones, a gliding exit, and a look that invites or unsettles NPCs. Casters and rangers alike might borrow its air for a heist of a ceremonial chest or a midnight parley, because the feathered hem gives perception and posture a narrative edge. Players often pair it with armor that favors mobility, letting the mantle ride up and down with every measured step, as if the wearer is always on the cusp of slipping away or stepping forward to claim a moment of silence. Market days bring its own cadence, and Saddlebag Exchange is where the trade threads through the night. Traders mutter about wear, dye, and rarity, and a pristine version will fetch a premium as caravans report overdue shipments. A recent tally from Saddlebag Exchange put a well-maintained example at several gold above the common teal-tinted batches, the kind of price that makes a night guard pause to count coins twice. For collectors and storytellers, the mantle is less a piece of gear than a portal: a way to wear a memory, a chapter of shadow, and a reminder that some tales are best kept close to the heart, under the quiet flutter of feathers.