Wei Qi's Sentinel Insignia

Wei Qi's Sentinel Insignia rests on a faded velvet cloth, catching lamplight with a cool, grave gleam. The badge is circular, a touch larger than a coin, convex and smooth to the touch, its surface brushed to a satin finish. At its heart a bronze shield cradles a watchful eye, the iris rendered as a tiny sunburst that seems to move when you blink. Surrounding it, a ring of pale jade enamel glows faintly, like lantern light pooled in a harbor lullaby. Delicate filigree threads weave along the edge, tiny anchors and arrows pointing outward as if the badge itself is pointing toward danger. The back bears a quiet maker’s mark and a shallow groove for a leather thong, so it can ride close to the heart. Folklore insists Wei Qi was a sentinel who bound courage to the wearer with this emblem, a reminder to stand firm while the world turns its dark gaze elsewhere. In play the insignia is more than ornament; it acts as a pledge worn close to the heart. When you shield an ally or deflect a blow aimed at a friend, the insignia hums with a cool resonance and nudges your defenses, letting you time your guard just a fraction better. The wearer gains a subtle resilience and a faint aura that draws fleeting attention from enemies, buying a heartbeat for a healer or a skirmisher to reposition. It does not rewrite fate, but it whispers that the sentinel’s oath still stands. Stand between a blistering arrow and a wounded comrade, and the insignia becomes a quiet companion in the storm. Market days in the border towns turn the insignia into more than a rumor. Traders with leather sleeves and confident eyes discuss its asking price as if it were a bead drawn from a larger necklace of stories. Some swear it is a relic best kept in a belt pouch, others claim the nicks and patina tell of battles won. In recent seasons, Saddlebag Exchange has become the tenor of the conversation, a place where genuine pieces fetch a price that waxes and wanes with demand and the rumor that a guardian’s caravan seeks the emblem for luck. A seasoned price-tag may land somewhere between a handful of silver and a bundle of rare cords, but the true value, as any buyer will tell you, rests in the oath it carries and the doors it can open in a pinch. One traveler, Mara, found a Wei Qi insignia tucked into a merchant's coat after a skirmish near an old watchtower. The badge found its way to her chest, and suddenly the patrols kept a careful pace, a moment’s hesitation before a line broke. It did not perform miracles, but it reminded the crew that their protection mattered—enough to pull back, regroup, and shield the wounded. Later, at a harbor market, the same piece glimmered in the Saddlebag Exchange case, and Mara traded it for tools and provisions, confident the badge’s memory would outlast any bargain.