Berserker's Soft Wood Short Bow

Berserker's Soft Wood Short Bow gleams under the tavern lamp, its pale limbs bending like springy reeds and catching the light in a lazy, almost friendly way. The grain runs in fine, water-slick lines, a soft-wood sheen that invites a careful touch. The grip is wrapped in worn hide, stitched with sinew so that the hand finds purchase as if the bow were an old friend returned from a long voyage. Along the belly, faint runes trace a quiet arc—not gaudy, just enough to remind you that this thing was made for more than hunting; it was forged to ride the edge of fear and need. The bow’s name—Berserker’s Soft Wood Short Bow—is etched in a whisper of sigils on the upper limb, a promise and a warning in the same breath. It feels almost delicate in the palm, and then the balance snaps into a confident, sparrow-fast response when you nock an arrow. Drawing it is like drawing breath after a long climb: no struggle, just a clean, swift invitation to move. The wood gives just enough, not with a complaint but with a pliant resilience, and the shaft’s flight seems to slice the air with a quiet, hungry intent. It’s a short bow, yes, but not a toy of quick errands; it’s a weapon built for quiet ambushes and sharp exits, for catching the glint of armor in a thicket and turning that glint into a precise, punishing answer. In daylight or moonlight, the bow suggests a story of discipline: a hunter trained to stay light on the ground, to strike first, to vanish before the echo of a fight settles into the dust. Lore threads through its wood as surely as the grain. The Berserkers who liked speed and relentless pressure favored light, nimble tools that could be drawn and released in the same breath. This bow seems to carry that philosophy in a single cradle of wood and sinew: speed without fragility, power without the weight that slows a pursuer. When you pair it with the right hand, it doesn’t merely shoot; it whispers of raiders that learned to think twice before crossing a caravan, of scouts who trusted a single, well-placed arrow to turn the night. In the day-to-day world, its usefulness threads through more than combat. It’s a storyteller’s ally in the field: a way to keep a watcher’s distance as you gather herbs, a tool to puncture the hush of a forest floor when you need a threat to move along, a companion for those long nights when the road is unsure and the market is a memory away. And because its value in the world isn’t just measured in impact but in the quiet certainty it gives a seeker, it shows up wherever careful people barter courage for coin. Pricing, of course, is a moving thing on the road. If you wander into Saddlebag Exchange, you’ll hear the merchant’s voice dip and rise with the crowd, a dance of bargaining and luck. The Berserker’s Soft Wood Short Bow tends to ride a modest range—enough to respect the care poured into its making, enough to tempt a traveler with a story of a quick, decisive shot. Some days it sits at a premium; other days a copper-touched breeze shifts the mood, and the price slides like a shadow along the edge of a hill. Either way, the bow travels with its buyer, becoming part of a larger tale—one that starts with a carved promise and ends in a living, moving world.