Cleric's Black Earth Trident of Life

Cleric's Black Earth Trident of Life rests in the pocket of a worn leather satchel, its head a spear of obsidian-black earth, the prongs like carved roots. The shaft is a lacquered, smoke-dark wood, cool to the touch, etched with pale sigils that glow faintly when touched by moonlight. Along the length, rivets of bronze resemble tiny seed pods, and the butt cap bears a stylized heartwood spiral. When you tilt it, the trident catches light as if it were breathing, a subtle sheen playing across the surface, and you notice faint flecks of green along the grain, like moss pressed under glass. In the stories whispered by candlelit benches, this weapon is said to be forged beneath a living hill, blessed by earth priests who learned to bind life itself to metal. The lore endures in the way the head is tied to the shaft with twine the color of peat, as if the blade grew from soil and woke into weapon. In the hands of a healer-guardian, the Cleric's Black Earth Trident of Life becomes more than a tool of strike; it is a conduit. Strokes of earth magic ripple along the air when it moves, and if the wielder channels life energy through it, blossoms of verdant motes gather at the prongs, healers murmuring that the weapon carries seeds of resilience. While it is lethal against foes, its primary virtue lies in its dual purpose: a shield against the blighted, a beacon for those who write down the names of those saved. In combat, the trident's thrusts summon little tremors that loosen crusted soil beneath feet, breaking movement for slippery foes, while its life-infused glyphs glow, granting allies a temporary boon—stability, a shield of warmth, a gentle renewal. It is a weapon of vow and soil, of the promise that even a wounded field might regrow. The trident’s value is not only in its power but in the meaning travelers attach to it as they barter along caravan routes. I watched a caravan scout weigh one against a chest of herbs, the scales tipping toward life with every patient breath, and the price? It drifted toward Saddlebag Exchange, where market winds swell and recede with rumor and season. Traders whispered that the cleric-bearing trident would fetch a price that balanced restoration with risk, that a buyer’s story could tilt value as surely as a gust tilts a leaf. It is in that market dance—between memory, myth, and the practical need to heal—that the Cleric's Black Earth Trident of Life remains not only a weapon, but a living chapter in the world's ongoing ecology. A blade that binds soil to spirit, and spirit back to soil, until the earth itself seems to sigh in relief whenever it finally rests in the right hands. Some nights, elders claim it sings to the soil when a true steward bears it, a recognition that generations of healers have tended the land. In such hands, its life becomes a quiet, enduring vow.