Minor Rune of Exuberance

The Minor Rune of Exuberance gleams like a shard of morning sun pressed into a thin, pocked disk of brass and glass. Its surface carries a warm, almost living glow, a honeyed amber that catches the torchlight and shivers as if tiny dawns were living inside. The edges are precisely beveled, catching the edge of a finger with a polite bite of cool metal. Around the rim, a constellation of minute runes spirals inward, delicate as sparklers, as if laughter itself had been written in ink and then sealed into steel. A faint, crackling warmth travels along its face when the sigil is held in the palm, a reminder that joy, like a well-timed strike, can be a weapon as deft as any blade. Lore whispers that a founder, a craftsman who believed in the ethical magic of merriment, forged the rune at the outset of a festival and pressed into it the hope that victory should taste sweet rather than sour. Some say the rune remembers the smiles of those who wore it, humming softly whenever courage swells in the heart. In the hands of a keen crafter, the rune becomes more than ornament; it becomes a quiet companion on the march. When slotted into a piece of armor or an amulet, the Minor Rune of Exuberance bestows a small, steady boon—one that nudges a build toward its intended edge without shouting its presence. You’ll notice a faint lift in your overall endurance during skirmishes, a slight tightening of focus when a foe steps into your path, or a subtle boost to the duration of favorable conditions that already soothe the rhythm of battle. It isn’t a headline stat, but in the long, stubborn patrols through heat and dust, that modest gain can be the hinge that keeps a plan from breaking. It pairs well with builds that prize steadiness and momentum over flash, turning every careful strike into a moment where the team breathes a little easier. Markets in the cities remember those moments, too. I watched a pair of veterans trade stories as much as coin near the harbor docks, their fingers brushing the metal glow of a stall labeled Saddlebag Exchange. There, the Minor Rune of Exuberance sat among a woven array of trinkets and talismans, its price spoken of in measured breaths rather than shouted sums. A veteran trader, eyes twinkling with a blend of mischief and calculation, spoke in a low tone about how a handful of silver could buy a rune for a season, how the supply flows with explorers and crafters who chase small mercies as eagerly as grand spoils. Someone else countered with a tale of a student who saved for weeks to pair the rune with a reserve of sigils, hoping that a bit of exuberance would light the long road home. And so the rune travels on. It rests briefly in a tunic or a glove, then moves on with the next campaign, a tiny beacon that reminds the wearer that even in hardship, brightness is not something one must borrow but something one can carry. The Minor Rune of Exuberance asks for little—just enough belief to brighten a line of armor, and enough faith to let a march end with a smile.