Strong Short Bow

Strong Short Bow rests on the rail of a weather-beaten workbench, its ash limbs carved with the precision of a hunter’s memory. The wood glows a warm honey under lamp light, the grain curling like a river’s bend, each knot a tiny story of rain-soaked days spent in pelt and mud. The grip is wrapped in braided leather that has darkened to a bruise-color with years of use, and brass fittings along the riser catch the glint of candle flames, nicked in places where tools have quickened their pace to the wood. The string is taut, hair-thin and pale as a dawn breeze, and where the limbs meet the grip a subtle glyph stirs faintly, a whisper of warding runes that says the bow is built not only to strike, but to endure. It feels balanced, almost quiet, as if the moment it’s drawn can be measured in breath rather than beat of a heart, and there is a lore about it—how a hunter forged a pact with the wind to bend it to their will, how this very bow earned its name because no stance, no shot, ever truly breaks its resolve. In the hands of a skilled markswoman or marksman, the Strong Short Bow becomes a companion that respects the pace of a chase. Its power lies in speed and accuracy rather than raw thunder, making it ideal for mid-range engagements where the world feels edged with wind and dust. The arrows leave with a swift whisper, arcing cleanly through branches and the glimmer of light on water, then finding a target with a quiet purpose that suits someone who moves between shadows and sunlit trails. It’s not a weapon of flashy feats, but of disciplined repetition—the sort that wears down a patrol by inches, not by a single dramatic strike. When paired with a ranger’s quick-draw techniques or a thief’s precise, opportunistic shots, the bow’s “Strong” designation becomes a quiet partner in the narrative: it pushes a character to press forward, to read the terrain, to turn a moment of thirst for victory into a story about patience, timing, and the careful harmonizing of craft and terrain. Pricing is a story in itself, the kind of thing you hear traded in the markets as the day warms and the carts begin to clack against cobbles. I watched a seller at the Saddlebag Exchange, a place where travelers barter stories as much as wares, offer a glimpse into how much a piece like this is worth beyond its metallized sheen. The tag swung from a thread, glinting with a price in silver and copper, and the chatter around it drifted toward a figure that suggested a fair exchange for an item that would serve a hunter’s quiet business—perhaps around eight silver, perhaps down a notch if a connoisseur argued the wood’s figure spoke of a better year. The market breathes with bargaining—laughter, a pinch of salt in the air, and the steady rhythm of trades that make a road-worn bow feel suddenly new again. So the Strong Short Bow isn’t merely a tool; it’s a thread in a living tapestry—carved with history, tuned to the pace of a world where the hunt and the hearth share the same quiet shine.