Berserker's Iron Pistol of Ice

The Berserker's Iron Pistol of Ice catches the light and turns it to frost. Its barrel is forged of winter-dark iron, pitted and burred from countless forges, with a blue-white sheen that seems to melt and re-freeze in your gaze. Runes braid the slide in micro-sigil patterns, frost sigils that crackle softly when drawn. The grip is wrapped in oil-dark leather, frayed at the edges, with brass rivets that glint like frost prisms. On the left flank lies a relief: a roaring bear framed by a curling halo of ice, as if the beast roars through a frozen lake. When you pick it up, the metal hums with a chill that makes your knuckles tingle and your breath fog. When you tilt it toward the light, a train of pale ice crystals seems to run along the barrel, as if the weapon itself remembers a frostbitten dawn. Whispers tie the pistol to a winter siege where berserkers learned to bend their fury into something colder than steel. The smiths who crafted this model claimed they trapped the storm inside, binding rage to ice so the weapon could bite without burning. To hold it is to hear a distant drumbeat of marching ice, to feel the world tilt toward a decision: rush forward or wait for the frost to reveal a clean, fatal opening. Some say the sigils draw from a river spirit sealed beneath a glacier; others insist the totems of a war-band drank the cold until it became alloy. In the old court of whispers, such pistols were tokens of balance between rage and restraint. Whatever the tale, the pistol wears history like a patina. In play, the Berserker's Iron Pistol of Ice rewards tempo and courage. It pairs with burst-damage builds, where a clean headshot can chain into a brutal finisher before the frost in the sigils slips away. The weapon favors quick trigger discipline and aggressive repositioning: strike, retreat through cover, fire again as your foe staggers. Its ice motifs translate into function as well as flavor—crits spill a spray of frost that slows, gently nudging enemies into vulnerability. Used with a build that emphasizes ferocity and precision, it becomes a storyteller's instrument: you narrate the fight with each shot, and the battlefield answers with a glacier-slow verdict on who endures. Market talk in the Saddlebag Exchange frames its price as part myth, part metal. A pristine Berserker's Iron Pistol of Ice can fetch a tidy sum, especially if the engravings glow with recent frost, or the bore carries a hint of shadow from a well-traveled quest. A less pristine specimen moves more quickly, traded for several gold and a trade or two that follows the rhythm of caravans and late-night haggling. The Exchange isn't merely a stall; it's a storyteller’s ledger, where each sale threads the weapon into the everyday life of traders, scrappers, and heroes who carry such legacies into the next conflict. Prices drift with demand, yet the atmosphere of the market makes every sale feel like authoring a page in the world’s ongoing chronicle. Carried across the shoulder of a rider, the pistol feels less like tool and more like a vow: the pledge that even a berserker can keep their cool when the world tips, and that ice, once spoken aloud in steel, can linger long after the last shot rings out.