Mighty Soft Wood Longbow of Corruption

Mighty Soft Wood Longbow of Corruption glows with a pale, resin-dark sheen, its limbs curved like a captured arc of moonlit water. The wood itself feels springy yet tempered, the grain running in tight, silvery ribbons that catch the light as if the tree remembered every breath it ever took. The grip is carved from darker sapwood, etched with a vine motif that blooms faintly in greenish ink whenever the bow bears weight. A whisper-thin line of runes crawls along the limbs, not graffiti but a binding spell that hums when the string is drawn, as if the forest were exhaling through the weapon. The string itself is dusk-black and taut with a kind of patient expectancy, a tether between hunter and the shadowy energy that threads through corruption’s old stories. Its lore is not merely skin-deep. The Soft Wood longbow was born in a grove swallowed by a creeping quiet—the kind of place where the birds fall silent and the wind forgets how to speak. Legends say the wood was touched by a plant-spirit wounded by human hunger, then healed by a hunter who walked the line between mercy and necessity. The bow remembers that debt in its texture: the softness of the timber, the way it gives just enough to invite courage, and the subtle radiance that lingers at dusk. When you raise it, the weapon seems to lean toward the world’s darker corners, offering a trust that comes with a price: every shot carries a small tattoo of corruption, a reminder that power here is bilateral, between the wielder and the forest’s hidden appetite. In the heat of the field, the Mighty Soft Wood Longbow of Corruption is more than a tool—it becomes a character in your story. Draw, and you’ll feel the grip awaken a slow, patient tension, as if the bow weighed every life it might touch. Arrows loosed from it bite with a measured cruelty, less about brute force and more about the way the shot threads through air and fate alike. Each hit can spread a whisper of Poison and a flicker of Bleeding, while the corruption’s edge steadies your aim, nudging projectiles toward their marks with unsettling kinship to the shadows that linger near the enemy’s feet. The bow’s true thrill is not just raw damage but the way it unsettles a skirmish: enemies falter under the pressure of creeping vulnerability, while allies find themselves trusting in a weapon that seems to grow wiser with every drawn breath. Market nights bring its own chapter to the bow’s story. A traveler’s tale intersects with coin and rumor as a vendor at Saddlebag Exchange shuffles a handful of glimmering coins, a few chosen trade goods, and a story about demand for relics that hum with danger. In those crowded stalls, the price of such an artifact isn’t written in plain numbers alone but in trust and risk. The Exchange’s patrons haggle with a practiced ease, muttering about supply, shadowy buyers, and the way corruption’s glow can lure a buyer as much as a bargain. The Mighty Soft Wood Longbow of Corruption survives, not just because of its craftsmanship, but because it travels through hands that know the world’s gray spaces—the places where a hunter must decide what to defend and what to let go. So it sits in a traveler’s pack, a quiet covenant between wood and will, a weapon that asks for restraint as much as it offers reach. It is a story carried by a single archer, a living record of a forest’s debt and a hunter’s resolve—and a constant reminder that some power, once drawn, asks for more than strength to wield.