Flame Serpent Rifle

Flame Serpent Rifle rests on the shopman’s counter, its barrel curved like a sleeping serpent and the metal scaled with a burnished copper patina that catches every glint. The stock is a deep, ember-dark wood, braided with a leather thong that smells faintly of smoke and resin. The muzzle glows a faint orange, and a fine line of red enamel tracks the serpent motif from receiver to grip. Along the receiver, sigils wind like tiny flames—sinuous runes that speak of pact and flame-warder wards. When you cradle it, the weapon seems almost alive, the barrel a throat that can hatch heat if the hand is sure. The texture shifts under your fingers: cool brass that warms to touch, a wood that darkens with heat, a grip that bites just enough to remind you it’s ready for action. The design feels ceremonial and practical at once, as if the flame itself were tethered to a disciplined hand. Legends cling to it: forged in a furnace carved from a long-vanished volcano, tempered by a caravan’s night watch, blessed by a stream of fire spirits. The serpentine glyphs are not merely pretty; they’re wards, a promise that the weapon will spill heat only for a careful master. In the field, its shots crackle with heat, leaving a sneeze of amber smoke and a trail of burn that lingers behind the target. It’s not just a bolt-action piece; it reshapes a skirmish, inviting you to plan around the fire you can coax from the bore. A careful scout can tag a line of enemies, watch them hesitate as the air thickens with heat, and then push through the opening you’ve created with patient, precise shots. In practice, the Flame Serpent Rifle turns fights into the story you tell your squad. Use it to hold a chokepoint, to punish reckless charges, or to burn away brambles and light your path through ruined camps. The weapon thrives when you combine its heat with other conditions—the burning, lingering damage, the way smoke pours from the muzzle as you reposition. It’s a talisman as much as a tool, a reminder of a caravan’s oath and the courage of the hunter who wields it. To hold it is to hear the hiss of breath drawn from coals, a promise that the moment you pull the trigger, risk is met with fire. Pricing, of course, is part of the ritual. In the bustling stalls near Saddlebag Exchange, the rifle is spoken of in hushed tones and chalked tally marks. A fair day’s price might settle around a handful of gold, maybe a few silver, depending on condition and the stories attached to the gun. Traders trade it with a nod and a ledger flip, sometimes swapping a trinket or two for a better chance at the flame’s usefulness. Whether you acquire it here or across the square, the Flame Serpent Rifle carries a bargain’s weight and a legend’s glow, a weapon meant to be used with care and told with reverence.