Carrion Tribal Bow of Vision

Carrion Tribal Bow of Vision gleams under the flicker of a lone lantern: its limbs are carved from bleached driftwood, bound with sinewed hide, and a bone bead at the grip catching the light like a shard of moonstone. The riser is lacquered with ash-black glaze, etched with sinewy glyphs that twist into the shape of scavenger birds in flight. The string is a whisper of horsehair and tendon, taut and cold to the touch, while a small glass lens sits at the nocking point, humming with a pale, greenish glow when the air grows still. The texture alternates between the smooth waxed wood and rough carved ridges that catch a finger like scales. Lore says the bow was raised by a carrion hunter who traded skins with shadow-dwellers, a weapon meant to guide scouts through fog and bone-littered terrain. With a release, the Vision awakens: the lens casts a pale spectral seam across the world, revealing faint footprints and hidden doorways that would otherwise stay veiled. In practice, the bow feels like a patient companion—not aimed at riotous speed, but at careful, calculating strikes. A hunter uses it to thread a corridor of danger, drawing enemies into a line of sight the world hasn't yet admitted. The arrows leave a burred trace in the air, as if the prey glimpses a future that will not come to pass, and yet the mind makes room for that possibility, which is enough to disrupt an ambush. The Vision enchantment also helps pierce illusions and the occasional mist-spawn trap, letting a caravan guard or a stealthy scout pick out a hidden watcher across a ruined plaza. And so the bow becomes more than a tool; it is a character in a wider story. In the hinterlands, elders tell of the caravan that once relied on its vision to navigate a rain-swollen gorge, guiding mules through lightning folds as if the bow spoke in a whisper only the living could hear. Warriors who carried it learned to wait for a still breath before loosing, to let the vision decide when a shot would matter most. The market where it surfaces—Saddlebag Exchange—has a way of putting weight behind such relics. A pair of leather satchels and a quiet debt to the vendor can fetch a price that glitters like coins in a firelight, though the true value is counted in stories earned by those who lift the bow and listen for the world’s quiet signs. Ultimately, the Carrion Tribal Bow of Vision is a relic that asks a hunter to trust more than draw. It asks you to read the ground as if it were a page, to read the tremor of a leaf as a confession, and to listen for a future that has not arrived because you chose to stop it. When the green glow steadies, when the air feels suddenly heavier with memory, you know you’re not just shooting a target—you are carrying forward a lineage of watchers who learned to shimmer between this world and the one that's waiting.