Berserker's Longbow

Berserker's Longbow gleams with a sunrise sheen, its limbs carved from a single arc of tempered oak that has weathered more storms than most journal entries could hold. The grip is wrapped in worn leather, fissures catching the light with every palmprint of use, and a thin crease along the belly speaks of long hours spent in a hunter’s horizon, waiting for the moment of impact. The bowstring is a taut line of sinew, blue-grey as storm-tossed sea, and the notches wear the scars of countless arrows drawn and released. In the heart of the stock, a running bear is etched in gold filigree, its claws curling around a sun-warmed rune that seems to throb with the weapon’s pulse when drawn to full extension. It feels as if the longbow carries a memory field—like a veteran shouting through the wood—a connection to a lineage of berserkers who believed that courage could be tuned as precisely as a string. Its lore is whispered in tavern corners and along caravan routes where mercenaries tell stories in rushes of breath. They say the bow was forged for a famed berserker who rode into battle with a grin and a storm at his back, a hunter who believed that a life spent in fury could be channeled into mercy for allies and a ruinous answer for foes. The weapon’s heart is said to beat in the moments before a shot—when your stance tightens, your pulse aligns with the rhythm of a drumbeat from some old war song, and the arrow leaves with a whistle like a hawk cutting air. It is a weapon that demands boldness, that rewards the risk of standing your ground and letting the next breath count. In play, Berserker's Longbow becomes a castle gate opened by a single decisive strike. Rangers and those who lean into precision and ferocity find themselves drawing deeper from its reservoir of energy, as critical hits seem to bloom from the throat of a drawn bow. Arrows stitched with the soul of the longbow fly truer, the glow of the runic inlays brightening as if to cue the moment a hunter should unleash another volley. The weapon’s performance sings when a player chooses to weave mobility with aggression, trading distance for momentum and turning a skirmish into a controlled storm. Market talk threads through those stories too, quietly shaping the tale as coins pass from hand to hand. At the Saddlebag Exchange, a ledger-book promise makes the price feel like a test of worth and trust—the kind of negotiation where a seasoned trader weighs the bow against a cache of high-quality arrows, a cameo of armor, and a few favors owed. The deal often rests on a barter of rare hides or a trade for a steadier stock of runes, with the exchange’s roof-cavern lights flickering as if to bless or broker the deal in equal measure. It’s not merely a purchase, but an acknowledgment that this weapon belongs to a world where every shot writes another line of the larger saga. Berserker's Longbow remains more than timber and string; it’s a chapter you can take into the field, a companion that asks for courage and gives back a sharpened edge of purpose whenever the world tilts toward chaos.