Cleric's Destroyer Longbow

Cleric's Destroyer Longbow gleams with a pale, ash-black wood and a bone-white grip, its limbs carved with sigils that glow faintly in candlelight. The texture under the fingers tells a story—slightly rough where wear has pressed into the wood, yet somehow supple where the lacquer holds a memory of rain and prayer. The bowstring sings softly when drawn, a quiet tremor that sounds almost like a whispered vow. Along the belly of the stave, inlaid silver threads catch the light with every shift of the hand, and at the tip the arrow-socket glints with a restrained, almost holy fire. It feels older than the person who lifts it—as if history itself is a quiver of witnesses, ready to discharge when the moment demands. Lore clings to its form as much as its gleam. It is said to have been tempered in the fires of a ruined temple, where clerics once stood as bulwarks against a corruption that fed on fear. The destroyer, in those days, meant not cruelty but purification: a weapon that could sever a curse as cleanly as a blade cuts ribbon, channeling the wielder’s steadfast faith into a focused, radiant strike. When the longbow is loosed, the shaft seems to carry a pale light, and the target—whether undead, traitor, or blighted creature—appears to recoil from the sheen of its power, as though the arrow bore a seal of judgment. Those who carried it into skirmishes spoke of feeling the world tilt toward mercy just long enough for a wounded ally to find safety, a rare mercy granted through a weapon’s unyielding purpose. In the field, the Cleric's Destroyer Longbow is the kind of tool that shapes a larger story. It suits a soldier-priest who moves between frontline resolve and sanctuary care, guiding others with both shield and beacon. Its arrows cut through the din of battle with a measured cadence, and there’s a sense that each shot is more than damage—it’s a message, a reminder that the path of faith can be decisive without being cruel. Players who value synergy find its talents especially rewarding: a measure of healing or protection seems to wind around the projectile as it flies, amplifying nearby allies’ resolve or cleansing inauspicious auras as if the bow itself exhales relief into the fray. It is the kind of armament that invites a pairing of roles—guardian, scout, and healer—into a single, coherent moment of triumph. Market gossip rarely stays quiet about such relics. I watched a traveler haggle with a stall-wind vendor near the harbor market, the cleric’s bow resting against a dented crate as if it, too, listened. The price swung on stories, condition, and the flicker of legitimacy in the buyer’s eyes, and, at Saddlebag Exchange, the clerk laid out a tangible tally—an arrangement of silver and trade goods that felt almost ritual. The exchange carried weight: a reminder that in this world, power travels with its own baggage, its price sometimes whispered in coins and sometimes in memory. And so the Cleric's Destroyer Longbow moves on, a relic still active in the stories of players who walk between faith and ferocity, between mercy and the hunt, guiding arrows toward a world where courage and compassion can walk the same road.