Berserker's Soft Wood Scepter of Rage

Berserker's Soft Wood Scepter of Rage rests on the workshop bench like a living branch awoken from a long sleep, its shaft carved from a pale, almost sun-warmed soft wood that keeps its grain whisper-thin and easy to cradle in the palm. The head is a rounded bulb, polished to a satin sheen, with faint red-gold runes spiraling along the contours as if the wood itself were breathing. A shallow groove runs the length of the staff, catching light with every tilt of the hand, and the grip—wrapped in leather that has the scent of rain-soaked bark—feels strangely forgiving for something bound to anger. It’s the kind of artifact that seems to carry the memory of a storm: the way the wood swells with heat, then settles into quiet, as if the rage within could be coaxed into focus by careful touch. Lore threads through the surface like invisible resin. Artisans say the Soft Wood was once a sapling that grew near a battlefield’s edge, its rings thick with stories of retreat and return. The Berserker who crafted this scepter is whispered to have tamed his own ferocity through patient carving, letting the weapon become a conduit rather than a spur. Some say the red runes were pressed in while the wood was still warm, a pact that the user’s fiercest impulses would be met with disciplined strikes rather than reckless roars. In the oldest tavern tales, the scepter is pictured not as a tool of ruin alone, but as a bridge—between the heart that wants to lash out and the body that chooses to land the next blow with purpose. In the heat of battle, it speaks in a language of rhythm. The moment a guardian’s hand tightens on the grip or a mesmer’s will threads through the air, the scepter’s surface seems to accept the contact and respond with an almost audible heartbeat. It channels a surge of adrenaline, guiding successive blows into cleaner arcs, encouraging a tempo that makes rage feel like a well-tuned instrument rather than a wild drum. Its effectiveness isn’t only in raw power; it’s in timing. A well-timed parry followed by a rapid series of strikes can peel open an opponent’s defenses just as a campfire splits wood to reveal brighter embers beneath. Players who value precision alongside strength find the Soft Wood scepter a companion that can turn a frenzied charge into a controlled surge. Market days lend the scepter a different texture, the way sun hits a forge. I wandered into Saddlebag Exchange, where haggled voices rise above the clatter of metal and coin. A seller with ink-dark eyes spoke of demand and the stubbornness of supply, sliding the Berserker's Soft Wood Scepter of Rage across the counter with a measured tap that sounded like rain against ceramic. The price hovered between two gold and a handful of silver, a figure that shifted with the winds of caravans and rumor. After a quick nod, I traded a stash of silver for the grip of the scepter, feeling the leather bite just enough to remind me that value is as much about story as metal. It’s the kind of item that makes a market feel like a crossroads of history, where a weapon’s fury can be owned, tempered, and passed along to whoever learns its true rhythm.