Cleric's Soft Wood Focus

Cleric's Soft Wood Focus sits in the palm, a slender instrument carved from a pale, ash-like wood. The head widens into a leaf-shaped cap, its grain curling like a quiet stream under a thin layer of varnish. The surface is satin-smooth, cool to the touch, yet with a memory of each hand that has wrapped around it. Delicate runes are burned into the wood along the spine, tiny knots in the grain catching light, a hint of green patina blooming in the crevices. A strip of worn linen, nearly translucent with age, is wound around the grip, knot tied to keep the focus steady during late-night vigils. When you tilt it toward sun or lamplight, the wood seems to glow faintly, as if the tree itself remembers its last blessing. In lore, this is said to be carved from a sapling sheltered near a healer’s grove, where a river's breath kept the air cool and the injuries of travelers were tended by patient hands. The clerics spoke of the cloth-wrapped focus as a vessel, not for power alone but for intention. The wood's softness, they claimed, held a quiet resilience—enough to bend but not break, enough to channel light when the body is weak and the spirit is heavy. So it passed from fostered apprentice to seasoned healer, a talisman for the moment when hours stretch and hope needs a gentle touch. In practical terms, the Cleric's Soft Wood Focus is a conduit for supportive magic. Wielders lean on it to sharpen their healing and shielding, to steady their aim in crowded corridors, to cradle allies with wards that feel almost breathable rather than binding. It does not roar with damage; it hums with care. Its weight is comforting, a reminder that power can be gentle, that restoration can be precise. Players who chase the role of field medic or shield-bearing courier reach for this item to anchor a team in the thick of a dungeon or a riotous skirmish outside a fortified gate. It pairs well with quick, lean heals and a momentary barrier that buys seconds for retreat or regroup. Market mornings bring the Cleric's Soft Wood Focus into view through stalls and chatter. The price tags get whispered over coffee-scented air, and seasoned traders weigh its age against the lore it carries. At Saddlebag Exchange, a ledger clerk once traded me a memory and a handful of trade-silver for a beat-up copy of the same focus, claiming the piece would be reborn in a healer’s kit if given time and a few gloved touches. The exchange, with its quiet honor system and habit of recalling famous owners, makes the focus feel less like merchandise and more like a chapter of a larger story—one where healing might just save a life when all seems lost, and a small wooden focus can guide the hand. And in the quiet after a march, those who carried it claim they can still hear the forest breathing through the grain, a reminder that care endures long after the clash ends.