Berserker's Soft Wood Scepter of Hobbling

The Berserker's Soft Wood Scepter of Hobbling rests on a sun-warmed counter, its shaft pale as birch bark and smooth as river-washed stone. The wood wears a whisper of fatigue where fingers have gripped it through countless skirmishes, the grain curling like a quiet map of journeys long past. A slender head, carved with a snarling emblem—half beast, half banner—sits at the top, while the midsection bears a band of faded runes that glow faintly when moonlight slides across the stall. The scepter’s surface is polished to a satin sheen, yet you can feel the texture change with your touch: a hint of softness beneath the lacquer, as if the wood itself remembers the weight of a bearer’s resolve. The scent is woody and resinous, with a trace of campfire pitch, as if the weapon carries the night’s last embers wherever it travels. It isn’t flashy, not a showpiece, but it feels honest—like a blade that offers protection and a secret, stubborn grip on the world. Lore threads through its appearance: forged for a line of berserkers who believed rage could be steadied by craft, the staff was said to bind a warrior’s momentum with a careful, hobbling enchantment. When swung, the scepter doesn’t merely lash out; it coughs out a slowed breath from the ground, a tether that tightens around a pursuer and makes the earth itself feel heavier to those who would rush in. The soft wood’s resilience is a paradox—easy to dent, and yet stubborn enough to take a troublesome edge and hold it. In the old stories, the kobolds and raiders learned to respect its quiet hum, and travelers learned to respect its quiet heft, as if the wood remembered each step taken toward balance. In practical terms, the scepter weaves itself into the day-to-day drama of the road. It functions as a weapon and a tool, a symbol and a safeguard. Those who carry it learn to time their strikes with a deliberate, almost patient rhythm, guiding foes into moments when the hobbling charm nips at their speed and their guard. It’s particularly valued in skirmishes where mobility and discipline collide: a measured push, a arcane nudge, a momentary stillness that buys a breath for allies to reassemble or for a healer to slip through the melee. In the hands of a tactician, the scepter becomes a narrative beat—a pivot that can rewrite a frantic clash into a controlled exchange, a small mercy in the chaos. Price threads its way into the tale as well, spoken of in hushed tones along the lanes and markets. Traders speak of Saddlebag Exchange as a place where stories and silver meet, where a well-kept example might list at a few gold coins and a handful of silver, depending on provenance and the wear of the engraving. I heard a broker describe a recent listing there, the kind that makes a collector’s pulse quicken: two gold and fifty silver for a pristine, well-preserved instance, a fair token of its storied lineage. The world doesn’t always offer mercy, but it does offer memory—and the Berserker’s Soft Wood Scepter of Hobbling keeps both close, a companion in the march between conflict and lore.