Berserker's Soft Wood Longbow

Berserker's Soft Wood Longbow gleams in the morning light, its limbs carved from pale, honey-toned softwood whose grain curls like a map of old battles. The bow's surface bears a whisper of resin and varnish, smooth as a well-worn violin, with slender reliefs along the grip—runic knots that hint at a craftsman's pact with a restless warband. The string is a tight, weathered sinew, humming faintly when the bow is drawn, and the nock bears a tiny notch where arrows rest with awkward grace. The limbs taper to a feathery point, almost delicate, yet the wood holds a quiet memory of storms and spring rains, a paradox that makes the weapon feel alive in your hand. In lore, they say the soft wood grew where the forest and the sea meet, light enough to bend into a hunter's will yet strong enough to carry the fury of a berserker’s cry. A captain once carved his creed into the grip—notching a single line that spoke of balance, restraint, and the moment a single arrow can turn the tide. People swear the wood carries a sigh of that captain when the wind shifts. In the field, the bow becomes more than a tool; it’s a companion through long dawn patrols and whispered ambushes along riverbanks. The draw is quick and clean, the arrow releasing with a ring like a hollow bell. Power comes not just from strength but from the wood's generous flex, letting a shot sail true even after a rough pull of the string. It thrives in the drawn-out skirmish, where patience outlasts panic, and a careful archer can thread a target through a twist of brush or a guard’s shoulder with the same breath. The Berserker’s name isn’t only about damage; it’s about courage in the moment, about choosing precision when chaos closes in, about a weapon that forgives a shaky hand and rewards a steady heart. Hunters report that the soft wood keeps arrowheads steady, reduces vibration, and lets a marksman feel the microshifts of wind and heartbeat in the branch’s tremor. Market stories turn the bow into a rumor, a version of value wrapped in leather and trade—an object coveted by scouts, rangers, and travelers who live by the road. At the Saddlebag Exchange, vendors weigh its worth in silver and promise, watching the grain glint as if it knows their own histories. Someone will trade a bag of copper for a morning, another will barter a stash of rare hides for the quiet trust of a reliable aim. And so the Berserker’s Soft Wood Longbow travels again, carried by a new name and a new story, its soft timber gripping the memory of every forest encountered, every battle avoided, every shot flown straight. Some nights, a craftsman’s apprentice gives it away to a hopeful hunter, praying the wood will guide their aim as surely as a compass guides the way home. In that hope, the bow continues its quiet pilgrimage through the rain and road. Always.