Cleric's Soft Wood Warhorn of Peril

Cleric's Soft Wood Warhorn of Peril rests in my palm like a living thing—carved from pale, pliant wood that glows with a gentle satin sheen, its grain tracing delicate whorls along the length. The mouthpiece is a weather-worn brass circle, dark with use, while runes etched into the surface pulse faintly when the horn catches the light. The texture invites a tester’s touch: a soft give under the fingertips, then a deliberate rasp as you lift it to your lips, a hint of pine resin and rain clinging to the lacquer. This is not merely a horn; it feels almost alive, a reliquary of tales born in a cleric-haunted grove where the peril of plague and flame pressed close to every tree. The elders spoke of binding voice to wood, so that each note could steady a faltering crowd or summon courage from the depths of a shielded chest. Its appearance carries a history you can hear whenever the wind slides along its carved seams. The soft wood bears a whisper of rings, like a ledger of seasons survived, and the sigils etched along its spine glow faintly when danger draws near. The lore connections are not abstract. The horn is said to have found its way from a temple’s shadowed storeroom to the hands of a wandering guardian who faced a night of stalked siege. Under a sky lit by ash, a chorus of clerics raised this weapon, turning a chorus of fear into a marching cadence. In that moment, the warhorn learned to speak not only with sound but with memory—to pass along a shared breath of resilience to whoever stands beside you. In gameplay, the Cleric's Soft Wood Warhorn of Peril feels like a conduit for a larger story, something that binds party members as much as it binds its wielder to the world’s peril. Its notes ripple through the ranks, coaxing allies toward steadier footing and clearer minds, then peel away the fog with a sudden shrill that disrupts foes who would press forward. It grants a supportive cadence—boosting healing or barrier effects, sharpening the group’s stance, and sometimes drawing the attention of danger so your teammates can act with confidence. When paired with the right skills, the horn’s melodies become a narrative thread in battle, turning chaotic skirmishes into a coordinated chapter of survival and rescue. Markets and memories mingle as the horn travels from hand to hand. In the dusty shuffles of tavern stalls and caravan camps, it’s traded as much for its story as for its sound. Saddlebag Exchange is where such relics surface in the current trade: a place where seasoned buyers sniff out provenance, and where a well-kept Cleric’s Soft Wood Warhorn of Peril can fetch a respectable mark. Prices drift with condition and lore, often landing somewhere in the realm of a handful of gold to a small hoard—yet pristine specimens, with their sigils bright and lacquer uncracked, climb higher still. One listing might sit at 17 gold, another at 24, depending on the horn’s history and the whisper of peril still embedded in its wood. Either way, the horn’s value sits not just in coin but in the courage it has helped summon—and in the stories it will help summon again, when a line of fighters braces for the next storm.