Rampager's Soft Wood Focus of Hobbling

Rampager's Soft Wood Focus of Hobbling rests on the counter like a sliver of quiet dawn—a slender, seven-inch shard of pale wood, almost white with a soft, satin sheen. The grain runs in fine, patient rings, smooth to the touch, as if the tree itself had learned restraint over centuries. Its surface bears a shallow patina where fingers have worn away the gloss, a telltale map of countless hands that have trusted it with their balance and breath. Along the length, runes carved in greenish resin coil in tight spirals, catching light with a shimmer that feels more like a memory than a glow. The end cap is a tiny sculpture, a low relief of a rampaging hunter in profile, jaws set in a careful, almost affectionate snarl. When you cradle it, the wood seems to give a sigh, a tremor that travels up your forearm as if the focus knows your pace before you do. Lore threads through its quiet elegance, as if the wood itself holds the footsteps of a hundred trackers who walked this same path with a practiced eye for restraint. They spoke of a hunter who carved the focal from the soft timber of a sacrificial grove, not to force fear but to buy time: to hobble the swift and the reckless so a caravan could slip through, so a wounded ally could rise and join the next march. The enchantment—where the name Hobbling comes alive—was said to braid with a grove-born instinct to slow, to make a quick step become a measured breath. It is a tool of discipline as much as a weapon of will, a reminder that momentum, once spent, must be gathered with care. In the field, its role is felt as soon as the warding sigils glow: this focus channels subtle energies into the wielder’s hands, shaping crowd control as much as personal protection. Used by guardians and scholars who favor restraint over brute force, Rampager's Soft Wood Focus of Hobbling acts like a quiet bowstring for a slower, more deliberate strike. On enemies, it leaves a lasting footprint—brief but tangible—where the target’s legs catch a tremor, their pace stuttering just enough to open a window for allies to close in. Beyond raw power, it offers utility in escort or skirmish scenarios: guiding a retreat, pinning a threat to a chokepoint, or buying a precious slice of time to heal and reposition. Its enchantment rewards patience, rewarding those who marshal their team’s tempo rather than sprinting headlong into chaos. Prices in the market whisper their own story, carried on the sighing breaths of merchants and travelers. I watched a low hum of bargaining weave through the stalls at Saddlebag Exchange, crates creaking as a trader weighed the value of tradition against the shimmer of a new brigand’s blade. The tag on a well-kept piece hovered in the range of a few gold, though a sharp eye could bargain a few coins more or a trade that included a few select hides or other wares. The exchange is a chorus of stories—every deal a chorus, every haggled sum a note in the longer ballad of the road. So the Rampager's Soft Wood Focus of Hobbling remains more than an artifact; it is a hinge between relic memory and present necessity. A tool that slows what rushes, steadies what trembles, and keeps the march moving—one careful step at a time.