Berserker's Soft Wood Warhorn of the Geomancer

The Berserker's Soft Wood Warhorn of the Geomancer rests on the table like a weathered relic, its curve catching lamplight and tossing back a pale, almost dawn-colored glow. The wood is soft to the touch, a pale pine with a satin patina earned from years of travel and pickle-wine smoke. Long, shallow runes trace the length of the horn—sigils that echo shale strata and small beads of basalt pressed into the grain—an inscription that seems to hum when your fingers brush over it. The mouth is lined with a cracked ring of leather, and the bore opens wide enough to throat an earth-sung note that rolls out in a deep, rolling resonance. If you listen closely, you can hear the memory of quarries and riverbeds stored in its hollow, like a small, patient earthquake waiting to speak. In the whispered lore of merchants and wanderers, the Geomancer who shaped this warhorn spoke of binding the horn to the ground’s slow heartbeat. They argued that sound is a tremor you can ride—an echo that travels faster than a footstep and insists you move with it. So the Berserker’s horn became—myth says—a bridge between spirit and soil, a weaponized lullaby that can steady a frightened line or unnerve a charging foe. When it tips to the mouth and a breath is coaxed through its throat, the air carries a reminder: the world beneath your boots remembers you, and you remember it. In the crucible of battle, the horn acts as a focal point for tempo and courage. It is said to amplify the bravado of those who stride into breach with axes raised and shields held high, while its earthen undertones bend the fight toward terrain itself—knocking loose stones, nudging banners, stirring dusty corners so that line-of-sight becomes a map of shifting risk. The creature within this wood breathes through its fibers, turning a quick shout into a torrent of sound that unsettles foes and steadies allies, letting a berserker pair their reckless charge with a patient earthbound rhythm. For a geomancer in training or a captain who trusts the ground as a confidant, the horn is a teacher: it teaches patience, then courage, and finally how to listen to stone speaking through wood. Market chatter adds another color to its legend. If you follow the threads of price and provenance, you will hear travelers mention Saddlebag Exchange, a place where such relics drift between hands as casually as coins change pockets. Listed prices hover in the high gold or low silver range, depending on who tells the tale and what stories you bring to barter. A faithful scroll of history, a well-worn horn, and a price that makes a buyer wince and a seller smile all become part of the same narrative—the one about the bond between instrument, earth, and the vow to carry both into the next fight. It remains a talisman for those who read the ground and listen for stone's echo, a story carried in breath and wood.