Knight's Elder Wood Longbow

Knight's Elder Wood Longbow rests on a rough-hewn rack, its limbs a pale, honeyed amber from elderwood, the grain curling like ancient script along the arc. The bow’s curvature is elegant but sturdy, a living thing in the hand, with a sheen that catches the light and deepens when you tilt it just so. A knightly sigil is burned into the riser, a quiet mark of oath and duty, while the grip is wrapped in worn leather that feels almost warm to the touch, as if the wood itself hums with the memory of long nights spent in watchful silence. The string is taut and smooth, the tension whispering of countless drills and hunts, of arrows loosed under rain, sun, and the anxious hush before a charge. When you cradle it, you can sense the elderwood’s age—its fiber has traveled through seasons and campaigns, absorbing the dust of hallways and the scent of pine resin that lingers like a memory. There’s more to its appearance than beauty, though. If you tilt the bow close, you notice fine runes etched along the limbs, a lattice of tiny glyphs that catch in the light and seem to glow faintly with a quiet resonance. They tell a story few would read without a translator: a lineage of protectors who chose elderwood for its resilience, for the way it holds a shot steady when hands tremble and the heart drums in your chest. The texture of the grip speaks of careful maintenance: oil rubbed in by hands that know the value of a patient draw, small nicks along the edge where a knight’s blade once clipped the wood during a field demonstration. It is more than a weapon; it is a testament to discipline, a relic that looks as ready to be laid down as it does to be raised. In the world where such a bow travels, its significance in gameplay is told in the quiet, measured tempo of a hunter’s career. It rewards patience and angle, letting a skilled archer keep distance with a measured breath and a patient aim. Versatile enough for ambush defense in the brush or careful skirmishing on the open plain, it encourages positioning, timing, and the art of reading a scene before the arrows fly. When you load a quarrel, the distance seems to melt away, and the world narrows to a single target and the steady rhythm of a practiced hand. It isn’t flashy, but its pull is honest: reliable range, clean flight, and a feel that makes every shot feel earned rather than given. Pricing and barter threads weave through the life of any item with a story. I came across it again in the bustle of Saddlebag Exchange, where merchants lay out wares like a map of the road ahead. A bow such as this, in good condition and bearing the knight’s sigil, tends to fetch a tidy sum—roughly a couple of gold coins, depending on wear and the gleam on the grip. The sellers trade tales as readily as coins, and buyers listen, because the elderwood’s reputation isn’t just about wood and string; it’s about what happens when a shot finds its mark and closes a chapter in a village’s memory. By dusk, the Knight’s Elder Wood Longbow shifts from an object of duty to a companion on a wandering path, faithful and true, ready to set another story in motion.