Carrion Glyphic Longbow

The Carrion Glyphic Longbow rests on a dusty counter in a dim market shack, its limbs like fallen ivory carved into sinewy curves, the grip wrapped in worn leather that still carries the resinous tang of long-forgotten forests. The finish is lacquered with a thin sheen that catches the lantern light, turning the wood to dark amber when you tilt it just so. Along its length, bone-white glyphs coil around the stave, sigils that glow faintly emerald when the weapon is drawn, then settle into a patient, even glow as if listening to the archer's breath. The string is taut and singing with risk, a whisper of sinew and weathered cord, ready to send a straight, sure shot into the shadow. Locals tell a quiet tale about its making: a bow carved from timber that grew beside a carrion grove, a place where life and decay kept a careful vigil. A hermit necromancer—not cruel, but curious—etched sigils into the wood, binding a small oath to the arrows that would leave the bow. The Glyphic script is said to bend fate a touch, nudging chance toward resilience and timing, weaving life and death into every flight. It’s not merely ornament; the glyphs carry a pulse that a practiced eye can feel in the draw, a rhythm that hints at a long memory of hunts and rescues and the quiet bargains struck between living rangers and the watchers who live in the margins. In a moment of play, its significance becomes clear. The Carrion Glyphic Longbow favors stealth, patience, and precision—a long-range view that can still shift the balance in a tense skirmish. When an arrow leaves the wood, the bow’s legacy becomes a part of the fight: shots that lay a line of bleeding on the foe, or dance into a narrow window of vulnerability as the sigils flare with a faint necromantic memory. It rewards careful aim and timing, letting you weave together kiting, control, and damage. Veteran hunters speak of the glyphs as if they were a compass—a reminder that sometimes restraint and the right shot at the right moment can do more than a dozen reckless bursts. In the world’s markets, the pulse of desire for such a weapon breathes easy and restless as the day cycles. You’ll hear merchants talk of demand weaving through Divinity’s Reach and the outlying camps, and how the price of a Carrion Glyphic Longbow shifts with rumor and season. At Saddlebag Exchange, a narrow-eyed dealer once offered a fair trade: a neat lump of gold, a stash of forged caravan wares, and a few trinkets that smelled faintly of resin and air. It wasn’t a locked price, but a conversation—an acknowledgment that this bow carries not just wood and string but a story that lives wherever it travels. By dusk, the longbow sits again in its rightful place, its glyphs catching the lantern glow, waiting for the next hunter who understands that power is a conversation between weapon, will, and the world that moves through them.