Carrion Krait Shooter

The Carrion Krait Shooter gleams like a dusk-black fang, a pistol whose barrel is etched with scale-like ridges and a grip wrapped in dried snake-bone leather. Its metalwork carries a subtle green patina, as if the weapon had spent long nights hinged between sunlight and the swamp's glimmer. Along the flank, tiny glyphs swirl in a pattern that recalls the carrion krait's courtship rites, and the grip's bone-wrapped texture is cool to the touch, lighter than it appears until you heft it, ready to draw. Lore whispers that the weapon was forged in the shadow of the Swamp, where carrion kraits drift like rumors and hunters trade whispers of spirits wearing scales. Some tales say the pistol's core is veneered with carrion resin, a resin said to preserve venom and quiet the tremor when the trigger is pulled. When you raise it, the sound is crisp and dry, like a dry leaf flicking across a ditch; the chamber glints with a micro-spark if you catch the light. In the field, the Carrion Krait Shooter is more than a tool; it is a compact survival kit, a narrative tool in the hands of those who trade in risk. Edges bite with venom-touched rounds that apply poison and bleed, and the gun rewards precise, disciplined shots over spray and roar. It favors hit-and-run tactics, hiding in reeds or rotting stalls, then stepping into a clean line to let a single shot carve a moment into the fight. The weapon's compact form makes it feel like a secret whispered under rain, a promise that even in crowded ruins you can slip a bullet through the noise. On the practical side, its maintenance is simple enough for field repair, and its durability keeps pace with sustained skirmishes where other pistols heat and warp. Market chatter swirls with the same swamp-mist: the Saddlebag Exchange sees a steady trickle of these skins, traded among scouts who value scarcity as much as style. A well-worn tale at a stall near Lion's Arch notes that prime Carrion Krait Shooters drift a touch above other exotic pistols in price, often hovering around two gold and forty to fifty silver, depending on the orbit of demand and the luck of the caravan. The price, like the weapon itself, is a marker of risk and reputation. To hold the Carrion Krait Shooter is to hold a link to the swamp's deeper rhythm — a weapon born of carrion and myth, designed to cut through both armor and superstition. In play, it becomes part of a larger narrative about hunters who walk the edges of life and death, about traders who thrive where danger coexists with rumor, and about how a single weapon can carry a story as sharp as its trigger pull. Under rain-slick leaves, the Carrion Krait Shooter continues to move through the world like a rumor you can hold. Its legacy lingers in trades, scars, and whispers at dusk, where every shot writes a line in the swamp's saga.