Rampager's Elder Wood Torch

Rampager's Elder Wood Torch is carved from a single piece of pale elder wood, its grain a tight map of years and storms. The surface is satin-smooth from months of handling, yet faint ridges catch the light like runes. A brass cap tops the bowl where a wick is set, and amber resin seals the timber with a glow that never seems to fade entirely. Leather straps, dark with oil, wind once around the shaft, fastened with small copper rivets that glimmer when a lantern catches them. The flame that licks inside resembles a little sun, stubborn and patient, flickering with every breath of night air. The ends of the carving bear two stylized rampaging beasts, their jaws open as if to bite the dark, a signature left by the guild-blacksmiths who fashioned these torches for the Rampagers themselves. When you lift it, the weight is honest, not gadgetry, a tool that remembers campfires and long marches through damp wood. In the lore of the forest clans, elder wood is said to remember the last hunter who carved it, to hold onto the warmth of a story long after the storyteller has moved on. The Rampagers, a hunter-bond that preferred the road less traveled, believed a torch like this could summon courage as berries summon a chorus. It is not merely a utility but a talisman that guides the bearer through shadow and rumor alike, a beacon in both literal and mythic dark. When the torch is lit in gameplay, it serves as more than light. It illuminates hidden glyphs and the faint inscriptions carved along forgotten paths, turning darkness into a map you can read with your eyes and your instincts. It signals to allies in the field, a warm point of contact in the murmur of night raids and caravan watches. Those who hunt in actual dungeons swear by a flame that never abandons its bearer, for the torch's glow keeps the mind steady when the corridor walls press in and the echo of distant feet seems closer than it is. It also doubles as a story-friendly prop during quests about derelict homesteads, ruined watchtowers, and the rituals that keep a camp safe from prowling shadows. On the road, the odd traveler trades for such a piece with Saddlebag Exchange, where the bustling stalls echo with bargains and rumors. The shopkeepers value its authenticity—an Elder Wood piece with Rampager’s branding—more for its narrative heft than its mere metal and resin. The going rate, they’ll tell you with a knowing smile, shifts with demand: when caravans pass heavy with hunts, it climbs a notch; in quiet seasons, you might barter it down to a fair fraction of a coin. The Rampager’s Elder Wood Torch remains, in the end, a simple instrument that travels with a story. It is light itself, yes, but also a reminder: every flame is a path. And every path, a story waiting to be lit.