Mighty Soft Wood Longbow of Serpent Slaying

Mighty Soft Wood Longbow of Serpent Slaying glints with a pale honey gloss, its soft-grained limbs bending with a quiet resilience that only well-loved timber can carry. Along the riser, a serpent is carved in lean relief, the scales lacquered emerald and catching light like damp foliage after rain. The grip is wrapped in weather-worn leather that smells faintly of smoke and rain, and the string is taut with patient strength, a whisper of sinew and dawn. When it rests in your hands, the bow feels as if it remembers a hunt before the hunter lifts a single arrow, as if the wood itself has learned to listen for the hiss of danger before the world knows it. Legends cling to its shadowy past; scribes whisper that a ranger of the fogbound border carved the weapon from timber spared by a grove where serpents prowled in quiet fever. They say the bow’s maker sealed a vow into the grain: once you draw, you must aim true against venom and shadow. The serpent glyphs along the riser are not mere ornament but a story etched in lacquered ink—a reminder that mercy has no place in a nest of biting scales, and courage must be patient as the first light on a hunter’s sight. In those older markets, people spoke of a caravan saved from a night of snarl and fang when this longbow sang its single, certain note and a serpent queen fell to a well-timed shot. The tale travels with the bow, shaping every twist of leather around the grip and every creak of the string as a reminder that power, when tempered by restraint, can turn peril into passage. In practical terms, the Mighty Soft Wood Longbow of Serpent Slaying carries that history into the field. Its draw is light enough for a steady, repeatable rhythm, letting an archer string shot after shot with minimal fatigue. The enchantment tied to serpents—whether it grants bonus damage against scaled foes, speeds up the application of poison, or simply enhances a hunter’s precision when tracking heat signatures in tangled undergrowth—feels almost tactile, as if the weapon itself tunes to the hunter’s intent. A ranger learns quickly that this bow isn’t merely a tool for hunting beasts; it’s a companion in a larger narrative—one where serpents threaten caravans, ruins, and forests alike, and where the right arrow at the right moment can save a village or alter a trade route. With its soft wood and ancient edge, it rewards patience, yields clean takes, and makes a hunter’s stories a little taller at the fireside. The market hums as stories travel, and today the bow found its way into a warm, crowded stall at Saddlebag Exchange, where leather satchels and baskets of dried herbs crowd the air. The merchant’s hands move with practiced care, weighing the worth of timber and legend alike. “Three gold and a touch more silver,” he says, his voice even as river stones. The buyer counters, a soft smile playing on the lips, “Two gold and fifty silver.” There’s a pause, a nod, and the seal of a fair bargain pressed into wax of memory. The final exchange seals not just a sale but a passing of a purpose: the bow leaves the stall with a new partner in the hunt, the serpent slayer’s legacy carried forward into new shadows and hopeful dawns.