Carrion Amulet

The Carrion Amulet rests heavy in the palm, a circular disk carved from pale bone bound with cracked, resin-dark leather. Its surface is etched with thorny sigils that curl around a pale centerpiece—a small stone that catches the light and holds it like a cold ember. The chain is a dull, iron-gray link, worn smooth by years of wear, while a faint scent of resin and iron clings to the skin. When you cradle it, the amulet feels more than weight; it feels like a memory pressed into metal, the kind of object whispered about in tomb-lit auctions and dim tavern corners, a link to a time when the carrion-birds of legend watched over the living with patient, patient eyes. Lore says it was forged in the shadow of carrion birds, a relic of necromantic rites that bound life force to an ambered soul. Wear it, and the world seems to hum a colder, steadier note—the kind that breathes life into a skill that would otherwise falter. In stories told around campfires, the amulet doesn’t merely sit on a chain; it leans into your heartbeat, offering a tempered advantage to those who trade blows with the living and the dead alike. The sigils are said to be more than ornament; they are a map of sacrifice and precision, guiding the wearer through the tempests of battle where life is a scarce currency and every choice carries weight. In practice, the amulet has a chorus of uses that make it feel like part of a larger, lived world rather than a simple stat bump. For necromancers and those who lean into life-leeching and minion-based play, it provides a tangible sense of resilience—an almost narrative reward for leaning into the risky, pulse-tight fights where minions falter and hope wavers. Its presence changes the tempo of a skirmish: you feel the life drain become a slow, deliberate negotiation with the foes you’re facing, a push-pull that can turn a tight siege into a drawn-out narrative of endurance. And because it is as much about story as it is about numbers, the amulet often accompanies companions who tell you where a battle’s turning point will come, the moment you glimpse the glint of bone and the soft glow within the stone and realize the world is listening. Market whispers drift through the telltale clamor of a busy street in the city’s exchange district, where the Saddlebag Exchange is a perpetual hub of bargain and rumor. There, a Stall-keeper will offer a Carrion Amulet that matches a favored stat line, the leather strap creaking as a customer shifts weight and weighs whether the lore is worth the gold. Prices drift with demand—the difference between a lucky find and a prized catch—yet you’ll hear the same refrain: a fair amulet is a story you carry as much as a tool you wear. In conversations threaded with coins and apologies, the price for a Carrion Amulet tends to hover in the mid to higher gold range, often around eight to twelve gold pieces depending on enchantments and the exact distribution of stats. It’s enough to make a trainee pause, then smile, because in a world where every piece of gear can become a legend, this one promises a very particular kind of story—one where life and death share a single breath, and the wearer walks on, amulet warm against their chest, ready to lean into the next chapter.