Knight's Volcanic Stormcaller Mace glints in the lamplight, its head a scorched alloy stitched with molten veins that trace toward a crackle of ember-light. The hammer is broad and blunt, yet crafted with knight’s precision: rust-red patina over a blackened, heat-softened surface, edges polished by a thousand marches. The grip is wrapped in leather aged to a warm coppery glow, stitched with ash-colored thread, steady to the touch. Runes of frost-gray copper curl along the haft, interrupted by a scorch-mark where a sigil blazed during a victory over a storm-born foe. In the right light, the weapon seems to breathe, as if it had smelled rain long before the wielder lifted it. The Stormcaller whispers victories and rescues: a relic forged by a knightly order that rode the edges of volcanoes and tempests, binding storm-wind to steel. Its creators swore the weapon listened to weather and learned the knight’s rhythm, trading fear for focus. When swung, it carries a low volcanic roar, its glow swelling with heat and wind, as if it kept the weather inside until a worthy bearer called it forth. Soldiers recall a duel on a lava-lit terrace, where the weapon rung with crackle and the Stormcaller answered with sparks. Those memories cling to the metal, turning every strike into a whispered oath to steady the hand and temper the flame. Used in practice, the Knight's Volcanic Stormcaller Mace feels like a companion on a journey. Its strikes channel two forces: blunt impact that stuns and a searing aura that scorches armor. Prolonged weaving builds an internal furnace, and at peak it explodes into a ring of molten motes that crack the air, granting temporary protection from flames and a surge of lightning that interrupts foes behind shields. For groups, it shifts the rhythm of fights, encouraging timed blows with momentary storms, opening space for healers and artillery. The Mace rewards clever positioning—staying near the edge of heat shimmer to draw power outward—so that the storm becomes a shared burden and a shared weapon. Prices drift in like heat, curling into rumor and record. I’ve wandered the markets and listened to merchants speak of the Knight’s Volcanic Stormcaller Mace as if it were a living storm you could lease from the sun itself. Saddlebag Exchange often serves as the throat through which those tales pass, a rough guide to what fearless hands paid for a ready-to-wield relic, and a safe harbor for negotiators. A buyer might find a well-kept example at a fair price, while a hurried trader could tuck it away for a premium during storm season, when demand climbs and winds threaten the coast. Whatever the moment, the weapon finds its owner by more than gold: it calls to a heart that recalls thunder and rewards the brave with a cadence of flame that never quite cools, leaving a sunset stain in the hands of the worthy. Some say it chose its bearer; others swear the bearer chooses it, in storm-glow and stubborn fate alone.