Rampager's Soft Wood Focus of Ice

Rampager's Soft Wood Focus of Ice rests on the counter, a slender relic carved from pale, satin-smooth wood that fits the hand like a thought. The shaft bears grain patterns that curl and swirl as if rivers of amber running beneath frost, while the upper end cradles a pale blue shard of ice, faceted to catch every glimmer of candlelight. A ring of frost-drawn runes circles the middle, glowing faintly with a cold blue light, as if the piece remembers a winter that never truly ends. The wrap of leather around the grip is softened by years of use, its surface smelling faintly of pine rain and old campfires, and the whole thing feels warm to the touch before a chill travels up the wrist. It is light, almost singing when handled, and you can sense a lineage in its craft, a lineage tied to a wary order that hunted storms. Locals whisper that it was carved by a Rampager who tamed a winter blizzard at the edge of a frozen valley; the ice shard is believed to be a fragment of a glacier's breath, pressed into living wood by a master who walked between storms. The wood itself speaks of forests that endured endless winter, a resilience stitched into every fiber. Such lore makes the focus more than a tool; it is a token of pact, a memory pressed into a working instrument, passed from hand to hand like a keepsake from a long-forgotten campaign. In use, the focus becomes a conduit for frost-woven magic, a channel that takes your intent and makes it tangible in shards and shimmer. It steadies the weave of cold magic, sharpening the moment when ice blooms from a spell and crisp air threads through the air around your opponents. Warriors and mages alike speak of its utility: a defensive shield of frost that forms in a heartbeat, a torrent of glimmering ice that slows pursuers, and sigils that etch themselves into the ground, leaving a map of frozen intent for the next strike. It feels like a companion in every engagement, a quiet partner in a world where momentum is a weapon as much as a blade is. On a trading morning, the Saddlebag Exchange hums with chatter and clanking coins. A weathered dealer leans over a map of prices and quirks, eyeing the Soft Wood Focus of Ice as though listening for a whisper of winter's breath. The price sits just under five silver—a sum that makes a pursuer pause and a collector grin. The conversation shifts swiftly to stories, to the journeys this focus has witnessed and the rivals who sought it at the edge of a glacier. By dusk, the focus is back in a bag, its ice-breath steadying itself for the next road, the next hand that will trust it to carve a path through frost, to turn a rumor into a remembered moment. It remains a reminder that even in a crowded world, a single piece of wood and ice can carry a long, old history forward. Its story travels on, carried by those who read the frost in its grain and the promise of cold roads ahead.