Cleric's Tempered Scale Pauldrons of the Guardian catch the light the moment they’re brought into a sunlit room, their layered plates like a sleeping fishbone of silvered scales. Each scale is a small, polished shield, alternating between pale steel and a silvery gray coated with a whisper of blue. The edges gleam with a thin, almost holy gold trim that traces the contours of the armor as if the wearer’s shoulders were a shoreline under sanctified water. On the outer plates, runes shimmer in soft white and the silhouette of a guardian’s sigil—a winged, open hand—seems to float just beneath the surface, as if carved by someone who believed protection could still be touched. The texture invites a careful touch: cool to the fingertips at first, then warm with the wearer’s breath, as though the pauldrons drink in courage and return a little of it with every movement. The appearance is more than ornament. The tempered scales carry a rumor, a thread of lore that binds the piece to a long line of clerics who stood at the periphery of chaos to keep the vulnerable from breaking. It’s said the armor was forged in a quiet sanctum, tempered in dawn-lit fires that burned away arrogance and left only steadfast resolve. The guardian’s blessing is whispered into the alloy by a chorus of bells and chants, a reminder that protection in this world is a vow as much as a shield. When a cleric or warded guardian dons them, the pauldrons seem to become part of the wearer’s aura, a visible pledge that the next blow will be met with a calm, steady countermove rather than a frenzied reaction. In gameplay, they feel like more than heavy armor; they are a narrative choice made tangible. A guardian taking point will often thread light and healing into a frontline, and these pauldrons reinforce that role with tangible weight. They grant enhanced resilience to the wearer, smoothing out the rough edges of punishment in skirmishes, and their runic inscriptions glow just a fraction brighter when the party leans on protection buffs or heals. The decision to wear them can signal a shift in tactic: a party’s shield wall tightens, their focus shifts from pure offense to controlled, coordinated defense. The pauldrons also encourage players to lean into synergy—combining barrier-creating skills with cleansing and support—so the armor becomes not only a physical barrier but a beacon for trust among teammates. And then there’s the world beyond the battlefield—the markets and the road-weary traders who carry legends as diligently as they carry goods. A traveler, eyes bright with the memory of a recent skirmish, might trade stories with a merchant at the Saddlebag Exchange while fingering the Cleric's Tempered Scale Pauldrons of the Guardian, weighing their worth against coins, favors, or a favor owed. The price is never fixed; it wanders with the mood of the market and the faith in the story behind the scales. A fair bargain might fetch a solid handful of silver, or a barter that includes a venerable relic or a trove of herbs from distant caravans. In that exchange, the pauldrons become more than armor; they become a passport to a larger tale—one where the protector’s vow is real enough to feel in the shoulder, in the walk, and in the shared breath of those who walk with you into the storm.