Rampager's Soft Wood Longbow of Corruption

Rampager's Soft Wood Longbow of Corruption gleams with a pale, sun-bleached grain, its limbs slender yet stubborn, curved like a whispered bowstring drawn back in a storm. The wood feels smooth as silk under the fingers, with tiny ridges catching the light and turning it to a smoky iridescence. The grip is wrapped in worn suede, the scent of rain-soaked leather and pine resin rising with every handling. A faint, coppery glow threads along the notches where the bowstring lands, and if you study the edges long enough you’ll glimpse dark veins crawling beneath the surface, as if the wood itself remembers a vow broken in the name of power. The crest carved near the limb shows a falcon in mid-swoop, and runes etched along the grip shimmer faintly, like embers under ash. Legends tie the Soft Wood to hunters who learned to coax stubborn trees into bending without snapping—rangers who believed a weapon should yield to the will of a patient hand, not the other way around. When Darkness crept through the forests, the rampagers whispered that corruption could be harnessed, not merely resisted, and this bow bore that paradox: a conduit for precision that could bite with the quiet inevitability of rain. In practice, the Rampager's Longbow rewards a measured, surgical approach: a long-range bead of focus, then a brutal follow-through as arrowheads split the air, finding their mark with a merciless grace. The arrow leaves a clean line, armor shattering beneath it, and the Ferocity of the wielder blooms as the target buckles. In the world’s marketplaces, the bow’s presence is a magnet for stories. Its listing is rarely plain, tucked among other relics and weapons on a stall lit by a guttering candle. Vendors speak in hushed tones of how the Corruption aura never fully leaves the wood, how the weapon hums with a low, almost organic energy when drawn by a deft hand. Price tickets appear and vanish in the same breath, especially at Saddlebag Exchange, where merchants barter with brisk honesty and a shared memory of skirmishes that left of each piece a tale. A seasoned dealer might whisper that a well-kept Rampager’s Soft Wood Longbow of Corruption can fetch a premium in the right season, though no two buyers agree on its true value, since the bow’s worth is as much about the buyer’s hunger for a story as the stats it grants. As I watch a hunter steady the bow, I sense an older thread connecting player, legend, and land—a thread the wood keeps pulling tighter with every arrow loosed. When the first shot splits the dawn, the weapon does not merely deliver force; it reframes the hunt, making an ordinary morning a page in a living epic. And so the Rampager’s Soft Wood Longbow of Corruption remains not just a tool, but a witness: a supple ghost of the forest, speaking through steel and breath whenever the wind dares carry it forward. Its story continues wherever arrows find their marks.