Berserker's Soft Wood Short Bow of Perception

Berserker's Soft Wood Short Bow of Perception rests on the worn oak table, its limbs pale as dawn and carved with a careful, almost nervous grain that knits into soft curves. The bow’s sinewy core speaks of a flexible woodland, the kind that forgives a hand too eager to draw and release. Its riser is a slim arc of light-colored wood, inlaid with silver runes that catch the candlelight and flash like teeth in a sleeping fox. The grip is wrapped in faded leather, stitched with a thread as green as moss, and a tiny badge—a bear’s head—peeks from beneath, a reminder of the Berserker’s furious discipline tempered by measured eye. The name, Perception, is etched along the lower limb in a script that twists and tightens like a drawn breath, hinting at a magic that sharpens sight as much as strength. In the stories stitched into campfire nights, the bow is said to have been born from a scout who trusted his senses more than any bell or beacon. They spoke of a whisper of wind saved for a hunter who knew when the forest itself would betray him and when it would shelter him. The bow’s soft wood lends it a gently forgiving touch; it will forgive a mis-snap of aim, yet rewards a mind that watches the world with patient emphasis. Some whisper that the Perception enchantment hums through its core, not loud, but like the tremor of a leaf you only notice when you tilt your head just so. When the shot is true, the bolt seems to carry a breath—almost as if the bow’s own quiet resolve lends you a fraction of its gaze. From a gameplay perspective, it is the kind of weapon that feels like companionship on a long march. Its balance favors accuracy and speed over brute force, making it a favorite for scouts who must peel the world apart—pinpoint targets, slip past sentries, and press home a strike before the danger knows you’ve found it. You learn to read your quarry as you read the wind, using the bow’s light weight to your advantage as you step between shadows. With this bow, a hunter becomes a patient observer—waiting for eye contact with danger, then collapsing the distance in a fraction of a heartbeat. It’s the tool that rewards calm, measured action: a well-placed shot that seems to vanish into the edge of perception, followed by a quiet, almost ceremonial retreat into cover. The market whispers of its price in a tone that suggests a fair deal for a rare companion. I first learned of it at Saddlebag Exchange, where a market hawker laid the bow on a battered velvet cloth and spoke in low, careful tones about supply, demand, and the old stories that cling to such items. The bow had seen caravan trails and forest lanes, its previous owners knowing the risks and rewards of standing where danger might pass in a whisper. The trade felt right: not a fortune, not a trifle, but a pact between wanderers who trust not only their blades but their eyes. When night gathers and the campfire dims, the Berserker’s Soft Wood Short Bow of Perception sits again in its cradle, head lifted as if listening for the next sign in the wind. It’s the kind of thing that doesn’t shout its legend but asks you to look closer, to hold your breath, and to trust what your sight begins to notice—the moment when the world gives you a chance to truly see it.