Berserker's Soft Wood Torch

The Berserker's Soft Wood Torch sits in my palm, a slender thing of amber and ash. The wood is soft to the touch, sanded smooth by countless hands yet still bearing the faint kiss of the forest: a warm, honey-brown grain that catches the light and holds it. The torch head is wrapped in a strip of leather cord and resin, the wick a pale reed that glows with a stubborn, orange heartbeat. When you cradle it, the texture tells you a story—how many nights it has seen, how many paths it lit through rain and smoke. The carving on the shaft loops into a single, stylized berserker's knot, a symbol whispered to those who keep to the shadows and press on regardless of the cold. It is more than a glow-stick in a bag; it is a talisman. Lore says a wandering berserker carved this torch from a softwood tree spared by a forest fire, its grainveins singing when the flame takes hold. Its enchantment is simple, yet practical: the soft wood catches fire easily and burns warm and steady, throwing a circle of bright heat that pushes back darkness in stone stairwells, ruined camps, and river-wide canyons. In the field, the torch becomes a portable beacon and a signal—light a trail for a weary caravan, call a hunter from the brush with a safer glow, or coax a stubborn glyph to awaken when the first embers crackle. Wielded by those who follow the night, it lights the way, a plan, and a fire that invites talk and barter. It is a storyteller's tool as well—a small stage-light for the night markets, where the glow reveals more than goods: weathered faces of veteran scouts, the glint of a blade, the hidden marks on a ruin's wall. When a party camps on ash-strewn hills, the Berserker's torch becomes a companion: warmth in the tent, a mood-setter for a tale around the grate, and a safety beacon that can draw the eye of a scout from afar. Its fire is not mere spectacle; it shapes decisions, marks routes, and sometimes decides who keeps watch and who rests. Pricing, too, has its own travelers' lore. In the bustle of Saddlebag Exchange, the torch is exchanged with quiet patience, priced as a modest grate of coins—enough to cover two passes through a night-owl market, a small tribute to the hands that carved it. A crate marked with the berserker glyph catches the eye, and the seller's smile is as warm as the flame it yields. You trade a handful of copper, perhaps a silver if the market favors you, and you walk away with a piece that tastes of ember and memory, ready to be lit at the first sign of frost. Thus the Berserker's Soft Wood Torch travels on, a traveler’s friend and a storyteller’s prop, passing from one camp to the next, lighting a path through the dark as surely as a good tale lights the mind. It remains, always, a beacon in the dark.