Hearty Soft Wood Longbow

The Hearty Soft Wood Longbow rests on a rough-hewn stand, its limbs a pale, honeyed wood that catches candlelight and gleams like morning dew. The texture is satin-smooth under the fingertips, yet the grain remains visible, each ring a quiet testimony to years of rain and sun. The grip is wrapped in seasoned leather that smells of resin and pine, molded to fit a palm that has learned to hold breath and release mercy in one measured moment. The string is taut, a whisper of fibers sprung from spare gut and sinew, ready to carry a shaft into the distance where horizons lie in wait. Engraved along the tiller are runes that glow faintly when moonlight touches them, and at the tip the wood darkens where heartwood meets sapwood—a visual reminder that this bow was carved not merely for use but for belief. Soft wood lends it resilience, a forgiving pull for long patrols through damp forests, and yet it stores strength enough to punch through brush and armor alike if the right arrow is loosed. In the storyteller’s telling, this bow has a lineage. It is said to have been breathed into being near a grove where the old heartwood trees whispered to those who listened—trees tended by rangers who believed the forest kept score of every hasty shot and every patient aim. The “Hearty” designation is not just a label but a vow: a promise that the wood’s spirit would lend vitality to its wielder in moments when breath falters and the world narrows to a pulse and a target. Hunters speak of first tracks followed with this bow, of quiet stealth when the wind held its breath, of shafts that found a way through tangled vines to strike true. The lore threads through the wood’s scent and grain, as if the bow remembers the path its master walked. From the player’s perspective, its usefulness is plain as the call of a distant horn. It pairs with patience: a longbow’s reach, the precision born of careful draw, and the steady cadence of shots that rain down with minimal reload time. A Ranger leaning on this weapon learns the rhythm of reconnaissance, skirting the edges of sight, turning rounds into stories, and turning danger into distance. The hearty wood’s forgiving grip helps survive the long watch, while the soft wood resists cracking under chill or rain, keeping arrow after arrow true until the cliff of fatigue looms. And in the market, the Saddlebag Exchange makes a neat backdrop for bargaining—prices drift with caravans and weathered ships, often settled with a fair, back-and-forth kind of barter that leaves both seller and buyer feeling they’ve traded more than wood and string. So it remains: a tool, yes, but also a keepsake, a memory of a hunter who walked a path between earth and sky, and a reminder that a well-crafted bow is a bridge between intention and action, between heart and hand.