Orichalcum Warhorn Mouthpiece

Orichalcum Warhorn Mouthpiece gleams with a pale, sunlit glow, the color of dawn over mist-wrapped reaches. It is hammered from a single sheet of orichalcum, its surface smooth as glass yet scarred with minute channels from grinding and reforging. The lip curves inward, designed to cradle the horn’s wind, while delicate sigils weave along the crown—old dwarven runes polished by travelers who learned to speak with metal. When you tilt it toward the light, coppery veins thread through the gold, giving the mouthpiece a quiet heartbeat. Lorekeepers claim it was forged beside temple floodplains by a guild that once bound caravans to the heartbeat of the earth, a relic that endured long winters and the march of a thousand boots. In gameplay terms, this mouthpiece is more than ornament. It is a conduit, the key component that lets an Orichalcum Warhorn release its most resonant notes. Slotted into the horn, the mouthpiece channels breath into a chorus that buffs allies, punctuates recoveries, and steadies the wills of those who hear it. Without it, the weapon might clang and rasp; with it, it becomes a storyteller on the field—its tones weaving through the clash of steel and spell, lifting morale as surely as any rallying cry. Crafters prize the mouthpiece not just for its glow but for the stories etched into its edges, the way it ties the horn to a path of upgrades and mastery. On a sun-washed morning, a lean merchant at Saddlebag Exchange laid the mouthpiece on a scarred wooden plank, turning the piece over in his hands as if weighing a memory rather than metal. The stall’s crowd leaned in: buyers with coin-pouches swollen by price swings, black-market couriers with tale-touched faces, and dreamers who pictured their own hero forged in the workshop’s glow. The vendor spoke in a low, careful cadence: demand has shifted with the tides of warbands and the new collectors who chase proofs of the old smiths. The mouthpiece, though scarce, is not impossible to obtain, but it carries a premium—a sign that the horn’s legend still resounds across Tyria. In that moment the piece stopped being a tool and became a promise traded between hands and stories. Back on the road, tucked into its travel case, the Orichalcum Warhorn Mouthpiece seems to pulse with a breath of its own. It remembers the craft, the caravan routes, the old dwarven sigils, and the soldiers who learned to listen as the horn spoke. The market’s chatter fades to a whisper as a breath is drawn and blown, and the world seems to hold its breath, too, waiting for the next note to rise in the heat of battle or the quiet of a dawn patrol. In that shared breath lies why this small piece matters: it is a thread tying coin, craft, and courage into one resonant echo. For those who carry it, the mouthpiece is not mere hardware but a commitment to remember and endure. Its next note might carry a village through a siege.