Vital Soft Wood Focus

Vital Soft Wood Focus rests in the palm, the size of a small apple, yet it carries the weight of a forest’s story. The outer wood, a warm amber-burnished grain, is polished to a satin sheen that catches light like dew on a leaf. Carved along its length are delicate sigils, emerald inlay tracing the lines of a living treetop, as if the focus itself breathed with the memory of bark and sap. The texture is silky, almost impossibly smooth, with a faint resin smell that hints at roots pressed into the wood’s pulse. When you tilt it, a soft glow glimmers from within, a microcosm of green that settles under your skin with a curious ease. The edges are rounded, not sharp, as if designed to rest comfortably against a palm that has learned to listen to trees. lore-wise, locals say the first Vital Soft Wood Focus was fashioned by a caretaker who walked between grove and city, harvesting a sapwood that refused to die, a wood that held life rather than memory. It is said the focus was carved from a fallen branch of a living elder tree, resuscitated by a ritual that binds vitality to artifact. It carries whispers of late dawns when the grove speaks in a chorus of crackling leaves and the healer-priest of the Ember Grove blessed it with a pinch of resin that binds vigor to the wielder’s vitality. This focus is not merely ornamental; it channels verdant energy into healing and protective wards. In skilled hands, it becomes a conduit, guiding healing magic and bolstering endurance. When you strike with it, it seems to hum with a pulse, as if the forest itself synced to your cadence, granting a fraction of vitality to allies who stand within reach. It also serves as a focus for life-spring skills, letting the bearer lay down a beacon of restoration that flickers in and out of existence with the tempo of combat. In moments of drought and fatigue on the road, a wearer of Vital Soft Wood Focus can lean into its rhythm, a quiet advantage that turns a retreat into a measured step forward. Its value is not just in its stats, but in the story it tells: a living bridge between field and hearth, trader and healer, grove and camp. On the market, the talk turns as the sun slides behind a caravan’s shadow. A seasoned trader from Saddlebag Exchange glances at the focus and weights its worth with care, listening for the creak of old wood and the glow that remains when a battle ends. The price shifts with demand, scarce in some hubs, abundant in others, and it’s not unusual to see a couple of coins traded for the chance to carry a few more of these quiet wards into the next dawn. It is a small thing, yet in the right hands, it heals a company as surely as it comforts a pilgrim. In any road, it remains a quiet companion.