Berserker's Steam Speargun of Water

Berserker's Steam Speargun of Water gleams under the shop's lantern, brass pipes tracing spirals along a carved ebony stock, and a copper coil that hums with every breath of steam. The barrel is a pale blue glass tube filled with a swirling, bubble-dotted liquid that catches light like a fish in a current, while rivets resemble scale armor. A knurled grip wears the patina of long nights and rough seas, and the trigger guard is etched with waves curling around a single rune that glows faintly emerald when the weapon drinks steam. On the side, a small gauge flickers from clear to azure as pressure builds, and a heat-softened plate bears the Berserker insignia, a crash of teeth and wind, half hidden behind a watery motif. The overall texture is rough and tactile—cold metal meeting warm wood, the hiss of steam curling out whenever you tilt the gun toward the inlet, as if a confined river were waiting to rush free. The 'of Water' suffix is not just spectacle; it marks a pact with a long line of river engineers and storm-tamers who believed weapons should drink the sea to speak with it, to turn a battlefield into a moving current rather than a still stone. In the hands of a practiced veteran, the Speargun becomes a storyteller. A quick blast sends a harpoon skimming through air, then, as the pressure bleeds off, a plume of water erupts, soaking foes and scouring their defense. The spray creates a brief veil, slowing glints of light and opening space for teammates to press forward. Its secondary effects are subtler but just as telling: as the water charge settles, small eddies coil along the ground, turning slick surfaces into hazards for pursuing enemies and granting fleeting advantage to those who read the floor as a map. It rewards timing and rhythm, much like a fisherman reading a river—cast, wait, strike. In a party, it is a quiet fulcrum: not always the loudest damage, but the weapon that shapes fights, dislodging entrenched lines, washing away melee stalemates, and allowing healers to slip in behind the steam haze. Market gossip threads through river towns and caravan camps, and Saddlebag Exchange carries whispers of its price as if it were a tide. A few pieces of coin, a handful of traded goods, and often a trading post rumor—these currents circle around the Speargun of Water, and a buyer who can read the shift in foam will know when to strike. If you listen closely, you can hear the current itself humming in the barrel, a promise that the Berserker who wields it is not merely a brawler, but a navigator of streams, a thief of storms, and a keeper of the sea’s reluctant trust. Some nights, a damp cloak and tired lanterns tell you the gun remembers the first fish it ever spared, and that devotion to water will guide your aim as surely as your breath. In that memory lies the weapon's stubborn, living promise.