The hood that the legendary Deliverer wore to shield themself from storms. In actuality, it is probably nothing like what the bards describe.

The night fog of Oronyx entwines with laurel branches, as the hero of deliverance descends from beyond the sky into the Abyss of Fate, alongside a black box.

They came in response to the prophecy, yet in those times the priests feared to speak of what lay beyond the sky.
“Do not speak loudly of the sky, for the suspicious Aquila never hesitates to castigate with Daythunder.”
Hearing this, the confident Deliverer replied in fury:
“O diviner of calamities, you never considered that even the gods should fear punishment from the children of humanity.”

Upon the city walls, the Deliverer witnessed the rosy dawn rising on the horizon,
“First comes Nikador, who wields Strife,
I pray they bring me glory, not madness.”
The Deliverer pulled back their hood and hurled a spear, its swift shadow like a lone wolf in early spring, charging through the streets of Castrum Kremnos.

“In the name of Mnestia! If destiny's threads are broken, I shall weave a new chapter.”
The Mad King's roar echoed from afar, his spear heralding departure before his steps.
“My Chrysos Heir companions await me on this journey, I must set forth.”

Janus's priests looked at the Deliverer's fluttering gray hair and cheered loudly,
rejoicing like withered plants bestowed with nourishment.

The gauntlets worn by the legendary Deliverer as they blazed through adversities. In actuality, it is probably nothing like what the bards describe.

The battle robe worn by the legendary Deliverer when they engaged in combat. In actuality, it is probably nothing like what the bards describe.

The boots worn by the legendary Deliverer when they trampled over mountains and braved through tides. In actuality, it is probably nothing like what the bards describe.