Minor Rune of Tormenting

Minor Rune of Tormenting sits in the palm like a coin stamped with night. A small obsidian tile glows faintly, its edges chipped from hard use. The surface is etched with sigils—a looping chain of jagged lines, a tiny skull, and a copper thread that catches the light as you tilt it. Cradled in a hand, the engravings feel slick, as if the metal remembers the names of those it torments. On the back, a worn parchment veneer clings to its core, a seal of a faded guild crest pressed into a leather-like backing. In the right light the glyphs tremble, a whisper of old sorcery ready to be awakened. Market lore says it was forged by hands that learned torment as craft, yet the rune is not a curse but a tool—a sign that power can be coaxed from fear. Some say it hails from days when battalions wore sigils to weather war, and an old order tempered it to fold dread into steel. The Minor Rune of Tormenting does not scream; it hums, a memory you can slip beneath your glove as you march into night. Torment seeded by these sigils is said to echo longer, offering a subtle increase in duration and potency when paired with the right traits. Practically, it's a quiet companion for a build that leans into conditions—torment as a path, not a shout. Slotted in a helm or belt, the rune nudges torment mechanics forward: the torment ticks a touch longer, enemies feel a fraction more fear, and extra condition damage falls into a steadier rhythm. It is not a flashy artifact but a scale-long ally, the kind you notice when the battle has already turned in the shadows and you realize the tormenting pressure has not released its grip. The rune’s story spills into the markets that cradle the trade. In the Saddlebag Exchange, where merchants haggle over old tomes and sharp blades, a Minor Rune of Tormenting can be traded as a practical gain rather than a boast. Prices drift with supply and demand, but a workable ballpark sits around two silver coins, give or take a copper or two depending on condition and the moment’s appetite for tormenting builds. Traders speak of burnished edges and the rune’s potential to turn a routine skirmish into a tense, lingering duel. It is not merely commerce; it is memory—of battles won by patience as much as by force, and of how a single rune can nudge fate by a hair. Now the rune rests in a sleeve, a quiet promise that even the most modest tool can tilt a story toward mercy or menace, depending on who wields it and when. That is the world of tormenting runes: small, patient, inexorable, and capable of outlasting the moment that made them famous.