Carrion Verdant Speargun of Water

Carrion Verdant Speargun of Water rests on a velvet cloth, its barrel a jade-bronze cylinder etched with pale fishbone runes and a patina that pools like seaweed in shade. The texture is a study in contradiction: smooth where the maker warmed the metal, rough where storms carved it, and every inch of the grip bears the kiss of salt and aged rope. The stock is carved from driftwood salvaged from a flooded quay, bound with sinew and eel-leather that creaks softly when the wind finds its way through a window. A length of kelp curls around the base, the tip crowned with a slender harpoon that gleams with a wet, living sheen. Lorekeepers say the Carrion Verdant was born from the union of river rot and forest sap, a weapon forged to protect those who walk the line between decay and renewal. It is said to carry the memory of drownings survived and tides that refused to yield, a sentinel waiting for the moment when water itself might become a shield and a blade. In the field it feels like a creature with a tempered temper: precise, patient, hungry for movement. The Of Water designation seems less a stat and more a vow—when you draw a bead in a raindrenched bend or marshy pass, the weapon hums with liquid energy, sending a rain of harpoon darts that slice through denials and cling to targets like a slick of rain. Its harpoons ride a miniature tidal effect, allowing quick follow-ups while enemies stumble from splashes and spray. Against aquatic adversaries the Carrion Verdant seems especially eager, as if the water itself lends strength to the strike. The gun’s weight is honest but not burdensome, making it feel like an extension of the wielder’s will rather than a thing to master; with a patient hand and currents in your favor, you can thread a path through a squad and leave behind nothing but mist and glinting green. Price is a rumor until you step into Saddlebag Exchange and see the tag with your own eyes. The market wrestles with it—the green patina, the bone inlay, the driftwood grip—until the broker nods and the coins clink in a way that sounds like a promise. The folks there swear the Carrion Verdant Speargun of Water is worth its weight in river favors, a weapon for anyone who knows the water’s moods. I traded a weathered map and a small chest of keepsakes for a chance to carry it, and the clerk murmured that the deal would be remembered in river stories. Saddlebag Exchange makes these trades feel right, as if a shared taste for the strange binds buyer and seller to a larger narrative about coexisting with current and shore. Carried along the belt of a river-runner, the speargun becomes more than equipment; it becomes a thread in a wider tapestry—guardianship of wetlands, barter with traders who know the currents, and a reminder that rot and verdure can be bound together into something that protects the living. The Carrion Verdant Speargun of Water invites you to walk the line between decay and renewal, with every shot telling a story the sea would want told.