Berserker's Hard Wood Short Bow

Berserker's Hard Wood Short Bow rests on a worn leather cloth, its grip carved from a single block of stubborn, wind-polished wood that feels cool and almost alive in the hand. The limbs curl with a quiet, disciplined grace, a deep chestnut hue veined with lighter streaks that catch the lantern glow. A horn nock glints at the tip, and the sinew string is braided tight as a drumskin, bearing the faint scent of resin and old rain. Along the belly, runes—faint, almost forgotten—pucker into the wood like a whispered memory, as if the bow remembers the hands that drew it long before the current owner opened its case. It looks ready to leap forward the moment you glance away, a weapon designed for speed as much as strength, a marriage of craft and momentum. In the county fairs and market lanes I’ve wandered, such a bow would not merely be a tool; it would be a storyteller. The Hard Wood Short Bow feels different when you cradle it, not just lighter or heavier, but somehow more certain. The draw is crisp, the release clean, and the shot lands with a compact ferocity that suits skirmishes where space is tight and every breath in—then out—must be counted. Its lore is threaded through with the idea of berserkers who trusted speed over weight, who trusted a precise aim delivered in a heartbeat. The wood’s hardness isn’t a vanity; it’s a promise that the weapon won’t shatter under pressure, that it will carry a hunter’s focus through gusts and noise alike. It’s a quiet legend in a world of loud legends, an instrument that insists on efficiency without sacrificing character. Gameplay-wise, the bow embodies a particular philosophy: quick, accurate, and with a edge of ferocity that can turn a tense moment into a decisive one. In the skirmishes that pepper the map—ambushes, warnings shots, retreat turns—this short bow gives you a sharper cadence: a rapid pull, a precise release, a redraw that keeps you mobile rather than rooted. It’s the kind of weapon that rewards timing and position, the kind that encourages hit-and-run tactics and careful window-creation rather than clumsy brute force. Wielding it, you feel the world tilt toward mobility, choosing pace over power when it matters most, letting your aim ride the breath between heartbeats. The market tells a companionable story, too. I found it tucked in the back of a stall at Saddlebag Exchange, where traders swap not just goods but histories, each piece priced by the weight of its tales as much as its metal and wood. The price was fair enough to tempt a careful buyer—around fourteen silver with a sliver of copper—enough to reflect its craftsmanship and its reputation, not so steep as to forget the traveler who carries it. The seller leaned in, whispering that the bow’s true value would show itself in a dozen journeys, each arrow a line in the longer story of a world that values restraint as much as flame. So it sits there, in the quiet of the late afternoon, the Berserker's Hard Wood Short Bow more than a weapon. It’s a bookmark in a living book, a hinge in a wider tale about who we are when the shot flies true and the world keeps turning, one measured draw at a time.