Name: Ring of the Wolfcaller
Type: Enchanted Ring
Credits: Imgur
Consolidation Thread: N/A
Description: This ring, adorned with a simple carved wolf’s head, holds a faint connection to wild wolves. Though not as powerful as the rarer counterpart, the Ring of the Wolfcaller allows the wearer to communicate and bond with wolves, commanding their respect and loyalty.
ATTRIBUTES
- Creator: Myrrdan Stormcaller (Blacksmith) - Breyle Wolfpaw (Enchanter)
- Durability: Average
- Weight: Light - .2oz
- Dimensions: 54mm
- Rarity: Semi-Unique
- Materials: Silver, Copper
- Manufacturing: The ring itself was crafted by a local blacksmith. The enchantment originated from a nomadic Druid in the forest of Bonitos.
Strengths
- Wolf Whisperer - the wearer can befriend a wolf or wolf-like creature once a day. The bond will last for twenty-four (24) hours or until the wolf is harmed by the wearer or their allies.
- Call of the Pack - once per day, the wearer can summon a wolf companion from the wilderness. The wolf is friendly to the wearer and will follow their commands. This wolf is no different than a regular wolf and can be dealt with by the same methods.
- Pack Leader’s Aura - while wearing the ring, the wearer gains the immediate affection or respect of nearby wolves and canines.
Weaknesses
- Fragile - while magically enchanted, the Ring of the Wolfcaller is just as fragile as regular jewelry. It has no enhanced durability and can be easily destroyed.
- Limited Use - the ring’s abilities can only be used one a day. The wearer must wait a full twenty-four (24) hours before using the ring again.
- Territorial Enemies - while minuscule, there is a chance that a wolf can deny the ring’s influence. It will immediately aggro to the wearer and pursue them relentlessly until one or both of them are dead.
Historical Information
The Ring of the Wolfcaller was born from an act of quiet kindness, forged in obscurity and later steeped in the magic of the wild. Though its creators never sought recognition, the ring would pass into legend among those who walked the untamed paths of the world.
Myrrdan Stormcaller was a blacksmith of no renown, a man whose name never graced the halls of kings nor the ledgers of great guilds. He worked humbly in a village whose name has long since been lost to time, his days spent repairing plowshares and hammering out crude blades for farmers who could not afford finer work. Despite his lack of fame, Myrrdan possessed a steady hand and a deep respect for his craft.
It was on a cold autumn morning when Seraphina Ivory, a Snache woman of quiet elegance, entered his forge. Clad in a deep gray cloak, her scales shimmering like polished amber, she carried with her neither coin nor grand commission—only a request. She asked him to forge a simple ring, nothing elaborate or adorned, merely something strong, something true. When Myrrdan inquired as to why, Seraphina only smiled and said it was for a friend.
Though Myrrdan had never seen a Snache before, he saw something in her eyes that made him set aside his usual fee. He took up his hammer and an ingot of silver. Over the next three nights, he shaped the metal with care, forging a ring as unassuming as he was—yet sturdy, and with a quiet strength hidden within its simplicity. When he finished, he gave it to Seraphina, asking nothing in return.
Seraphina carried the ring across the wild lands to find Beyle Wolfpaw, a nomadic druid who roamed the deep forests and high mountain passes. Beyle was an old soul, weathered by time and wilderness, her fingers calloused from years of working with the earth and her voice carrying the lilt of an ancient song.
When Seraphina found her beneath the boughs of an ancient oak, she asked her to bless the ring—not for power, nor for dominance, but for companionship. She wished for it to hold the spirit of the wild, a tether between two beings who might otherwise be separated by nature or fate. Beyle, after a moment of quiet contemplation, agreed.
Under the light of the full moon, she called upon the spirits of the forest, the wind, and the beasts of the land. With whispered invocations and the scent of burning sage, she wove an enchantment into the ring. It would allow the wearer to forge a bond with a wolf companion—not through command, but through understanding. The bond would be as strong as trust, allowing communication beyond mere words, and in times of great need, a wolf could answer its wearer’s call, no matter the distance.
When the ritual was complete, the ring gleamed faintly with a silver sheen, the magic resting within it as softly as a wolf’s breath on a winter morning. Seraphina took it with quiet gratitude, her purpose fulfilled.
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