Shaman's Norn Short Bow of Energy

Shaman's Norn Short Bow of Energy sits in the palm of your hand like a living twig, its grip worn smooth by seasons of practice. The limbs are a pale sapwood, tattooed with frost-gray runes that glow a faint cornflower blue when the hunt begins. The string, braided from river-sinew, hums when you draw it, a soft electric whisper that travels up your arm and into your chest. The bow's tip is carved into the likeness of a fearless hound, teeth bared in a timeless guard, while the other end wears the mark of a standing thundercloud — a nod to its chargeable heart. When you loosen a shot, energy crackles along the shaft, trailing a pale blue line that vanishes just before the arrow finds its mark. It feels alive, as if the forest itself lent you a measuring voice for a moment, then quieted again. The Shaman's Norn Short Bow of Energy carries whispers of the Norn shamans who once walked the moonlit ridges, drawing force from wind and winter. The Shaman's name is etched not so much on the piece as into its grain, a promise that patience, ritual, and a hunter's respect will always be returned with power. Legends tell of a clan elder who learned to coax a storm through a single, precise string-pull, to strike without panic, to make the wooded world answer with a measured thunder. To hold the bow is to feel the echo of those rites, to sense that every aim is a story being told to the hills. In practical terms, the bow rewards restraint and timing. Its energy-infused arrows weave through cluttered brush with unusual certainty, snapping from the quiver with speed that lets you threaten multiple targets before a rival can settle into a defense. You can pace your shots, waiting for the blue glow to crest along the arrow as a beacon of true purpose, then release to send a short, bright burst that knocks light from armor and stuns a moment of advance. In larger skirmishes, you become the anchor for a group’s mid-range tempo, picking off scouts, sharpening the melee’s focus, and drawing attention away from your more fragile allies. Market days at Saddlebag Exchange remind you that desire for such a piece travels farther than most stories. Traders whisper about the-weighty, metallic clink that accompanies the bow when it enters a stall, how the price tags shift with the tides of demand. A leather-tied ledger on the shelf records recent sales, and the clerks rail softly about rareness and provenance: a Shaman's Norn Short Bow of Energy does not fetch the bargain of a common hunter's tool, yet it does not linger long on the racks either. If you close your eyes and listen, you can hear the wind at the exchange as surely as you hear your own breath, and the bow seems to hum along with it, waiting for the next hunter to decide its fate. Even in a world that moves quickly, this bow remains a map and a promise: a craft’s memory, a hunter’s tool, and a reminder that energy, when disciplined, can become as graceful as a shot itself. So the bow remains somewhere between wind and will, a tested companion in the forests and streets, waiting for the next dawn patrol to call it back to life.