Berserker's Soft Wood Warhorn of Ogre Slaying

The Berserker's Soft Wood Warhorn of Ogre Slaying gleams with a honeyed patina, its soft wood grain curling like wind-sculpted grain around a mouthpiece inlaid with worn brass. Carvings trace a mounted scene of stooping ogres, their shaggy backs curling away into a border of thorny ivy, while the horn's surface bears the tiny scars of a hundred campfires and long journeys. The texture is both warm and stubborn, as if the horn remembers every hand that has held it, every breath blown into its spiral bore, every oath whispered in a siege camp. People say it was crafted by a master gunsmith-woodworker who refused to carve the blade's edge from timber that would crack under pressure, instead shaping a horn from a soft, resilient wood that could sing under the stress of battle. The lore goes that the ogre-slaying motif began as a village myth, a tale told by lantern light to warn children that even the gentlest timber can bear the weight of heroes when bent to a purpose larger than itself. When the horn is blown, the air seems to take a fiber of the wearer's resolve and string it tight, sending a pulse through the ranks that sharpens focus and steadies breath; at the same moment, the resonance is said to rattle the teeth of ogres and push their intimidating roars back into the mountain wind. In practical terms, it's prized by berserkers and skirmishers who rely on momentum and timing: a well-timed blast can open a path through a chokepoint, while the sustained note doubles as a rallying cue for nearby allies, turning a ragged push into a coordinated surge. Its enchantment is subtle, not flashy, but its aura is undeniable—the horn seems to breathe with the wearer, its surface warming under sun and freezing under dawn mists, as if the wood itself had apprenticed out a memory of countless campaigns. For the trader in the village market, this item is not merely a weapon or instrument; it is a story that someone else's fire might lend fuel to when the price is right. I watched a weary veteran barter its value at Saddlebag Exchange, trading glistening coins for a rare leather strap and a promise to guard the horn through the next winter. The exchange wasn't hurried—there were nods, careful tapping of coins on wood, and a final seal with a wax drop that smelled faintly of resin. In the end, the Berserker's Soft Wood Warhorn of Ogre Slaying found a new keeper not by force alone, but by trust: a blade of history turned into a breath of resolve, sounding true when the camp slept and the ogres lurked beyond the pines. Some whisper its origins lie not in a forge but in a siege memory, where a girl sang to calm her village and the horn learned to translate fear into courage. In the field, it stays by the belt of an old captain, listening, ready to answer when the drums roll.