Knight's Hard Wood Warhorn

Knight's Hard Wood Warhorn rests on a smoky counter, its surface polished to a soft, waxy sheen. The body is carved from a single log of hard oak, its grain running like a map of campaigns and knots dark as dried berries. It weighs more than it looks, a promise of years listening to the forest before anyone asks it to sing. The mouthpiece is bone, snug against the wood, and the bell is bound with lacquered brass that catches lamplight with a tempered glow. Along the shaft, runes wind in tight spirals, then flare into a crest: a knight's shield surrounded by a thorny wreath and a lone star. The scent is resin and smoke, a memory of campfires and oath-taking. Those who cradle it swear the horn remembers every note spoken within a knightly order’s walls. Legends say it was forged for a knightly order that guarded caravans along southern passes, a symbol of discipline bound to the road and the people who walk it. When blown, it steadies the spine of a skirmish, calling warriors to stand or fall as one. In capable hands its tones become a rallying chorus, boosting morale and opening windows for counter-attack. For healers and guardians, the horn is a signal as much as a weapon—an audible reminder that the line holds and that someone nearby sees them. The lore hints at a pact between horn and holder: blow truth, and the world answers with courage. In practice, players learn its rhythm the way a caravan learns a mountain road. A precise note can halt a charge, another can hush a creeping ambush, and a late third can coax a few more breaths of energy from weary allies. Its magic is not brute force but timing and trust: the horn is most potent when paired with a shield and a captain who can translate sound into action. In moments of pressure, a single blast can draw a line of arrows away from a squishy healer, or keep a shadowy scout from slipping past the gate. Those who carry it report that the horn’s voice grows; it becomes a character in the story, not merely an instrument. Markets, too, tell a story. In the crowded aisles near Saddlebag Exchange, a horn like this can swing from rare treasure to common rumor, priced by the mood of the week and the weight of old legends. Traders lean in, tapping the lacquer as if testing a drum, weighing its tone against the gold glint in a buyer’s eye. Some days it sits unsold, others it finds a new master who swears the instrument chose them for a mission. The price, negotiators say, reflects more than metal and wood; it carries a history of marches, deals, and whispered oaths heard in night-time markets beneath the banners of distant cities. And so the Knight's Hard Wood Warhorn continues its journey, from workshop to market to camp, a tangible thread tying knightly memory to present danger, promise, and hope.