Berserker's Soft Wood Torch of Accuracy

Berserker's Soft Wood Torch of Accuracy rests on the trader’s scarred counter, its shaft a warm, honeyed bend of soft wood that seems to glow faintly from within, as though the grain itself holds a stubborn ember. The head is a compact iron cap, burnished to a quiet sheen, with a wick neatly tucked beneath a crescent of riveted metal. The wood bears the telltale ache of years—fine cracks, smooth to the touch, the kind you’d trust your palm to cradle in the dark. Carved sigils trace along its length, winding like vines around the grip, and at the bottom a leather thong hangs for quick snag-and-go. The whole thing carries a scent of pine resin and old leather, a scent that feels like a campfire kept alive through stubborn winters. If you lean in close, you can see the careful artistry—the Berserker’s insignia pressed into the brass, a reminder that this torch is more than a mere beacon. The label “Accuracy” is etched with a precision that mirrors the intent behind the weapon’s namesake: a measured, practiced tempering of chaos. lore whispers that these torches were issued to scouts who learned to move with the hush of a hunter, to light a path without betraying a step. The Soft Wood itself, hand-picked from trees spared by frost and wind, is said to bend light in a way that makes the glow less a glare and more a rendezvous with truth—enough glow to find your footing, enough shadow to keep your enemies guessing. In practice, the torch is a companion as much as a tool. When you shoulder it, you don the air of a roaming mercenary who walks between campfires and cliff edges, a guardian of both path and pace. The torch’s signature is not only its glow but its drift into a steadier kind of aim, a quiet edge to perception that helps you track fleeting silhouettes in dusk and fog. In the heat of a skirmish, the beam becomes a second ally, carving a bright thread through the gloom so your feet stay sure and your hands stay ready. It doesn’t turn every bolt or arrow into a guaranteed strike, but it nudges probability in your direction, a subtle reminder that accuracy is a discipline, not a fluke. Market winds weave the torch into the city’s story as well. I watched a steady trade ripple through Saddlebag Exchange, where seasoned traders note down every amber-tinted bargain with ink that’s nearly dry from the day’s heat. A berserker’s torch such as this—soft wood, glyphs, a touch of arcane chrome—tends to attract buyers who prize reliability over flash. Prices drift with the tides of demand, slipping low in dawn’s negotiation and climbing again as night-market whispers collect around the stalls. A few copper more here, a coin or two less there, and the item finds its new owner who’ll strap it to a belt, ready to stride into the next encounter, light in hand, certainty in mind. In the end, the Berserker's Soft Wood Torch of Accuracy is more than a light; it’s a narrative of movement through danger—an emblem carried by those who trust a steady flame to guide their steps as surely as a trusted companion would.