Berserker's Iron Dagger of Ice lies cool and exact in the palm, the blade a slender ribbon of iron that seems to drink the light. Its surface is hammered to a satin sheen, frost runes curling along the edge like miniature glaciers, and a pale ice-blue core glows faintly from within when the firelight catches it just so. The grip is wrapped in weather-darkened leather, stitched over a bone-tleck of ivory-gray, the kind of grip that feels as if it could bite back if you grip it too hard. A small crystal, blue as a winter ceiling, sits in the pommel and hums with a quiet, icy buzz when the dagger is drawn. You can almost hear a whisper of storm wind in the way the metal trembles at your touch, as if the weapon itself remembers its birth in a snow-blurred forge. Lore fans who gather around the longhouse fire tell of a berserker-queen who said the blade tasted fear and returned it in shards of frost. The iron was drawn from a glacier’s edge, cooled in a hidden spring that only appears when the world tightens its grip. Runes carved by oath-bound smiths speak of a pact between rage and radiance: a weapon meant to cut through the heat of battle and leave leaders of men to count the frostbite’s tally. In those tales, the dagger does not simply kill; it performs a ceremony, stamping a survivor with a cold, clear memory that lingers long after the clash has passed. In practical terms, the dagger is a swift, precise instrument for a fighter who dances on the edge of risk. It slips past heavier blades with a sharp, practical elegance, and its frost enchantment—subtle at first—reaches out in quick, brutal moments. On a clean strike to the foe’s flank, the blade cools the air around the wound, letting the chill creep through the opponent’s guard and slow their next move. For a warrior who thrives on decisive bursts, the dagger’s edge becomes an exclamation point: a moment of clarity that follows a roar of fury. Paired with a secondary weapon, or used to puncture armor that refuses to yield to brute force, the Ice Dagger helps turn momentum into a narrative of controlled, icy precision. It’s a talisman for those who believe that to win a storm, you must first become one. Market chatter has a way of moving through a city like smoke, and the story of this blade is no exception. When a wandering trader passes through the bazaar, the thing to listen for is not the price alone but the glint in the eye when the title is spoken aloud: Berserker's Iron Dagger of Ice. Prices drift with demand, but the saddle-bold streets of commerce—especially at Saddlebag Exchange—keep a careful account of who bears the cold metal and what they’re willing to barter for its keep. A well-placed trade here can seal a blade into a new legend—its next wielder carried forward by a pact of steel and snow, leaving the old stories to melt away like dew and hint at futures yet unwritten.