Cavalier's Steam Speargun

Cavalier's Steam Speargun gleams under the market lanterns, a brass spine glinting with salt and smoke, the barrel ribbed like a cautious serpent; the muzzle cradles a gleaming steel spear tip, while copper rivets trace a weathered leather-wrapped stock that fits a gloved hand. A glass pressure gauge glows blue, and a compact steam-piston housing hums softly, sending little puffs of steam into the damp air whenever someone taps the stock. The grip is darkened leather, scarred from travel; engravings of galloping horses and interlocking gears thread along the metal, whispering a lineage where cavalry met machine in the same breath. The smell is a mix of brass, oil, and brine, as if a ship's hold and a field's mud had traded favors to birth a tool of movement and leverage. Lore threads through the piece: the Cavalier order rode the marshes and river lanes, turning horse and momentum into a hybrid craft that could strike from a distance and still ride out of danger. Some say a storm-chilled smith mated a harpoon gun with a engine’s breath after a skirmish near the Tangle, giving mounted guards a way to hunt across swamps and dawn-lit shores; from then on the speargun was not only a weapon but a compact, steel-honed companion for those who trusted the road more than the moment’s stillness. In those stories the Cavalier's Steam Speargun is less a tool than a partner, quiet in rain, patient in waiting, ready to turn a crossing, a retreat, or a chase into a measured, decisive move. In play, it carries its own quiet grace: the main shot hurls a spear with long reach and a clean slice through armor and shield; a cooldown-fueled secondary can drive the shot deeper or snap a target’s stance, and a tethering burst—glowing warm and cooperative—pulls foes toward you or anchors them in place long enough for allies to join, to flank, or to finish the swing. It feels designed for routes where speed meets control, for scouts skirting storm lanes or engineers guiding a convoy through narrow watercourse and open field alike. Market talk threads through the scene too: a rare piece that has seen salt and rain will always draw attention at Saddlebag Exchange, where traders haggle not just over gold but over stories, engravings, and the gun’s own breath. A well-kept Cavalier’s Steam Speargun can fetch a generous sum, enough to pay a caravan’s passage and then some, while a battered relic might be traded for parts or a favor. Prices drift with rumor and supply, but the buyer who respects the gauge and the engravings can walk away with something that seems to live in your hands, as if the river itself chose you to be its next rider.