Berserker's Soft Wood Warhorn of Nullification

Berserker's Soft Wood Warhorn of Nullification, its pale body curved like a seashell, sits on the scarred workbench, a thing you'd expect to hear about more in taverns than in battle reports. The horn itself is slender and smoothly sanded, the grain curling like pale flames along the barrel. Runic sigils are inlaid in ash-black lacquer along the sides, a pattern that seems to shift when seen from the corner of the eye. The mouth is flared, the edge polished to a glassy shine, while the mouthpiece is wrapped in worn leather that bears the marks of long journeys. The only other striking feature is a thin silver thread wound around the base, anchoring a small talisman carved into the shape of a raven's feather. Lore says it was carved by a berserker who rode the storm and bound its fury into wood, a weapon that could break a siege by stripping away an enemy's defenses at a single breath. When you hold it, you can feel the wood breathing, as if it remembers battles it has witnessed, and the air carries the faint scent of resin and rain. On the field, the horn's power lands in a quiet moment of breath: a deep, hollow tone that rattles loose the glittering glint of boons on foes, nullifying their magical defensive buffs for a heartbeat. In practical terms, it's a tool for push-pull skirmishes, a horn that can interrupt a channeled spell, strip an enchanter's aura, and tilt a duel toward the berserker's favored tempo. Allies benefit from space to land their own strikes, because the enemy's boons are dimmed; enemies have only a moment to recover before their advantages return, giving your party a chance to close gaps or retreat to safety. In stories those moments become turning points: a siege falters, a retreat is bought, a healer looms into the breach with a dawning smile, and the horn whispers its purpose as if it had a secret to tell every listener. It is not an instrument of pure offense alone—the quiet tact of nullification is a ruler of tempo, guiding fights and shaping the battlefield like a craftsman's hands. Market days drift through small towns, and trade routes shift with the seasons. I watched a weary trader haggle over a gleaming stack of coins in the Saddlebag Exchange, where sightlines blur between tents and stalls as buyers chase whispers of rare gear. The Berserker's Soft Wood Warhorn of Nullification sits in a wooden case, priced with a careful blend of gold and silver. The vendor spoke of three gold and fifty silver, then shrugged and let the bargaining begin, pinching the horn to reveal its weight and the lacquer's polish. A seasoned buyer lowered the price by a heartbeat, noting the horn's wood's warmth and the way its sigils catch light. In the end, it changed hands with a handshake and a nod—price adjusted, a story attached. It is a rare fuse of wood, metal, and memory, a weapon that teaches a whole village how to pace a fight and how to listen to what the wind has to say.