Cleric's Steam Speargun of Venom

Cleric's Steam Speargun of Venom rests on a weathered oak pedestal, its brass barrel catching the room’s light with a patient, almost holy gleam. A glass reservoir sits within the stock, emerald venom swirling inside, shifting color like a tiny storm held in check. Steam vents along the top hiss in soft rhythms, copper piping looping down to a bellows handle carved with enamel sigils that look like quiet prayers. The grip is wrapped in worn leather, cool to the touch, as if the weapon remembers every hand that has trusted it to salvation or to punishment. The texture writes its own story: cold metal kissing warm wood, lacquered surfaces slick with oil and time, a sheen of venom that catches the lamp glow and blooms into ghostly green. The spearhead is long and narrow, with a subtle barbed edge meant to bite through armor and sinew alike, while the body bears runes etched in gold that promise alignment with a healer’s purpose. It feels contradictory and perfect—a relic forged for mercy yet forged anew for war, a tool that can soothe a plague and strike at a flank with equal disdain for fear. Lore wires into the present like a current. The weapon is said to be the brainchild of a clan of cleric-engineers who believed healing should travel with hazard, mercy tempered by mechanism. In sieges that smoldered through long nights, this gun was a rumor you could hear in the clang of metal: pulses of venom released through the shot carried antidotes to plague-ridden wounds, while the steam’s push kept distance from the more frenzied threats. The venom’s green glow hints at cures as much as curses, a reminder that salvation sometimes travels with a sting, and that faith must be strapped to a payload as surely as a prayer is strapped to hope. In gameplay, its significance unfolds like a story you tell in the heat of a skirmish. When you bring Cleric's Steam Speargun of Venom into the fray, you’re hinting at a role that blends offense with utility: each hit coats the target with venom, applying a lingering condition that gnaws at resolve while your team moves to press the advantage. The steam-assisted propulsion lends a reach and speed beyond a typical spear, letting you puncture through lines or peel away a frontline opponent with a calculated pop of toxin. Used with care, it becomes more than a weapon; it’s a narrative device—a spark that turns a tense stalemate into a moment of mercy turned decisive move. Market chatter threads through the day as merchants bargain beneath striped awnings. A cautious trader speaks of the Cleric's Steam Speargun of Venom slipping along caravan routes, trading hands as reliably as rain. They whisper of the Saddlebag Exchange, that curio market where relics like this glow in the ledger and fetch a premium when rumor lingers of a new healer-Engineer passing through town. Prices rise when collectors crave the weapon’s lore, fall when a fresh shipment reminds people that stories are as fluid as stock. In that exchange of metal, venom, and memory, the item becomes less about the price than about the trust and fear it carries. In the end, Cleric's Steam Speargun of Venom is a vessel of memory as much as a weapon. A bridge between shrine and battlefield, it turns fire into faith and fear into relief, a relic that keeps walking the line between mercy and might.