Cleric's Soft Wood Focus of Water

Cleric's Soft Wood Focus of Water rests in my palm like a sliver of river glass: a slender shaft of pale, honeyed wood carved with delicate kelp-scrolls that trace along its length in a grain as soft as moss. The surface is satin-smooth, the kind of touch that invites a slow, almost reverent roll between thumb and forefinger, as if the wood remembers every wave it once rode. A shallow basin at its tip cradles a pale aquamarine orb, cool and shimmering, as if a drop of the sea were captured and pressed into light. The whole thing smells faintly of rain and resin, a forest’s memory condensed into a simple, potent tool. When you turn the focus, the runes along the grain wink faintly, catching the light with every breath, and you sense a companionship with water’s patient, enduring mercy. Lore says the wood came from a grove tended by river priests, trees grown where stream and shrine met, so that healing and cleansing could be drawn straight from the living tide. It is said the focus was not forged so much as remembered into being, a token of a vow to ease suffering even in the grip of a storm. In the world where rivers run through every corner of survival, this Cleric’s Soft Wood Focus of Water feels less like a weapon and more like a trusted chorus. When a healer or guardian cradles it, the focus seems to listen for currents—current of breath, current of blood, current of magic—and translates caretaking into action. In the heat of battle, its orb glows with a pale, steady light, and a ripple of water-like energy threads outward to shield an ally or to channel a surge of healing. It is the kind of artifact that makes a support build feel like a living conduit—your gestures become gusts, your quivering gratitude a ribbon of water leading the way to safety. The pundits would call it a utility piece, but those who’ve watched it in action know it is a reminder: even a battle-front healer needs quiet, patient water to calm the storm inside a skirmish. Its quiet charisma also anchors a broader story: the cleric who once walked a floodplain, mending boats and bones alike, is said to have left behind this focus as a pledge that healing would outlast the highest tide. For players, the focus is a bridge between roleplay and usefulness—a token that fits in with river-drawn quests, temple rituals, and the slow, ritual pace of restoring hope after ruin. It pairs with a kit of water-attuned skills, turning a routine cleanse into a ritual, a quick heal into a ceremonial exhale, a shield into a sheltered harbor. In towns and camps, merchants and collectors spin their own myths around it, and the item travels with whispers and trade routes. Speaking of trade, I watched it drift through the stacks at Saddlebag Exchange, where prices drift on rumor and tide rather than coin alone. A tidy stack of offers rose and ebbed, and a patient buyer could feel the moment when the focus’s value shifted from temptation to necessity. I watched a barter settle as a traveler swapped embroidered linen and a handful of river stones for the Soft Wood Focus, the deal closing with a nod as if the river itself approved. The market, like the river, never stops moving, and the Cleric’s Soft Wood Focus of Water is a quiet reminder that value, in this world, is as much about mercy as it is about gold.