Knight's Elder Wood Warhorn

Knight's Elder Wood Warhorn sits on the desk, a curved instrument carved from a single plank of elder wood. Its finish is matte, almost velvet, with the grain running like a map of quiet miles, and the edges burnished bronze that catches lamplight in a soft halo. The mouthpiece is worn smooth by hands long rested from battle, while shallow runic incisions trace the horn's spine, a line of vow-markings. The resinous scent of the wood clings to the air, and the whole piece feels patient, as if it has waited for years to be picked up again. In the tales told by smiths and scribes, this horn was hewn for a knight who learned to listen before he spoke, the elder wood chosen for patience and endurance. Within the world it inhabits, the Knight's Elder Wood Warhorn is more than ornament. Blowing it unleashes a chorus of shouts—boons that speed allies, sharpen blades, or shield the weak—bridging distance between frontline and camp. Knights, scouts, and companions lean on the instrument to coordinate, to punish a feint, or to cradle a wounded ally with a timely note. Its lore threads to a vanished order, guardians of the forest border who believed sound could bend fear into discipline. Players who savor tactical play find its calls compelling: a roar that rallies countless hearts and sets a measured tempo for the march. Marketplace life gives the horn its own pulse. On market days, merchants tell stories of the price as if it were alive—value not only in metal and dye but in the trust it carries into a fight. A buyer finds it described as 'Knight's' for the name and 'Elder Wood' for patience, and the talk shifts from gear to responsibility. Saddlebag Exchange—an old stall behind the hub—keeps a ledger of prices where coins or rare pelts pass hands. The price swings with the season, sometimes anchored by a collector who treats it as a relic, sometimes as a tool for a strategist who believes in voice-driven tactics. To own it is to accept a vow embedded in wood and breath: to lead when others cannot, to speak when silence costs more than fear, to remind a squad that a single note can set a line, hold a flank, or turn a skirmish into a story later told in taverns and archives. The Knight's Elder Wood Warhorn keeps its promises as long as care is taken—not to flood the air with noise, but to guide the tune when the march grows weary. If you listen closely, the knotted grain reads like an enlisted diary, every season and every dawn preserved in elder wood. Some buyers see the horn as a companion on the road, others as a banner at the siege's edge. When it sings, fear loosens its grip, and a squad moves as one. The Knight's Elder Wood Warhorn does not merely sound; it reclaims memory and quiet courage in the shared breath of a crew.