Cleric's Sneakthief Shoulderguards of Mercy

Cleric's Sneakthief Shoulderguards of Mercy sit heavy with quiet purpose, their white plates catching glints of candlelight and throwing off a halo of faint, gold filigree that seems almost alive when you tilt them. The texture across the pauldrons is a map of contrasts: smooth, polished metal beneath a whisper-thin layer of worn leather that speaks of countless patrols along rain-soaked city walls. A deep blue velvet lining cushions the shoulders, and a hidden notch along the inner seam hints at a pocket, perfectly sized for a folded note or a compact tool. On the outer scale, a mercy sigil—an aching heart cradled by outstretched hands—is etched in copper-threaded inlay, so subtle that a casual eye might miss it, yet every movement under light makes the emblem glow with a soft, reverent pulse. The overall silhouette blends healer’s grace with rogue’s practicality: a silhouette that could guard a life or slip a blade past a guard as swiftly as a whispered apology. Lore threads through these shoulders like a threadbare tapestry. They were forged in a sanctuary where healers and shadow-work artists once shared a single vow: to intervene in suffering without exposing the vulnerable to a front-row reckoning. Some tales say a cleric who refused to abandon civilians in a besieged district poured patience and mercy into the metal itself, letting the shields of the wore-quiet armor remember the shapes of a rescue. Others insist a rogue-smith tempering the same plates learned to blend stealth with healing, so that mercy could move through a torn city as quietly as a shadow when the night is thick and the ears of watchmen are full of static. The result is a piece that bears both sanctuary and street, a badge of dual duty that can either shield a healer’s hands or cloak a courier’s steps. In gameplay, the Shoulderguards feel like a quiet oath you wear on your shoulders. They invite a hybrid approach: stand firm on healing and protection, then drift into the margins of danger to deliver aid where enemies forget mercy exists. You trade a visible frontline presence for the leverage of presence in the shadows, weaving a line of defense that doesn’t scream for attention but earns it through ever-present reliability. When you apply bandages or wards, the aura around you seems to lean closer, as if the armor lends a patient’s calm to the group and makes your resurrections feel less like a flare and more like a whispered second chance. Market whispers drift through the bazaar lines, and the Saddlebag Exchange shoulder-decks into the conversation with a trader’s grin. A pristine set might fetch a modest fortune in gold, skittering higher when the sigil catches the eye of a collector who loves the idea of mercy wrapped in stealth. Yet you’ll hear equal parts caution and story—that the value isn’t just in the metal, but in the hands that have worn it and the lives it helped save. A buyer might trade allegiance with a few choice pigments or a meticulous set of rare leathers, but most who hold these shoulders understand they carry a narrative as much as a piece of armor.