Carrion Glyphic Short Bow

The Carrion Glyphic Short Bow rests in my palm like a relic clawed from a ruined shrine, its frame pale and almost bone-like, with brass fittings that catch the light. The grip is wrapped in cracked leather, the string taut with a whisper of metal and rain. Along its length, glyphs coil—thorny vines, tiny skulls, sigils that glow faintly emerald when the sun slides across the grain. The bow’s memory is visible in the carvings, as if the dead themselves kept watch over every draw. Lore says scavenger smiths carved it from the remains of campaigns past, binding memory to the weapon so a hunter can find a quieter path through danger. Handling it, you sense the weight of what it represents—a tool, yes, but also a ledger of lives lived and risk taken. To draw it is to wake a careful dawn in your hands, the limbs yielding with a controlled, almost respectful grace. Though it’s a short bow, it favors speed and steadiness, letting you slip from cover and return fire before a foe can ground you. On the first release, the glyphs flare a pale green—a sign the weapon has accepted your intent. The arrow cuts true, slipping through gaps in leather or plate and landing with a precise, satisfying thud. In skirmishes or quiet hunts, it rewards patience and timing more than brute force. The glyphs murmur a memory, a whisper from the dead nudging your aim toward restraint. If you crave mobility and repeatable shots, this bow feels like the perfect companion on a long march. One market morning, the Saddlebag Exchange hums with wind and barter as vendors array their wares. The bow rests on a leather cushion, its green runes pulsing softly as traders lean in to test the draw. A veteran prices it in gold; another offers a trade for goods and a story of a hunter who once used it to outpace a wyvern. The back-and-forth is a ritual, the value shaped by memory, risk, and the rumors that fuel it. When they finally agree, the bundle changes hands with a few cheerful curses and a clink of coins that rings through the alley. Back on the road, the bow sits heavier in your pack, not from its weight but from the weight of the stories tethered to its ribs. It is more than a weapon; it is a ledger of moments, a reminder that every pull of the string writes another line in the city’s living history. With the Carrion Glyphic Short Bow, you learn to read the world in green light, to listen for wind, and to honor the memory stitched into its wood. If you walk its road, you’ll hear the past speaking through its glow, guiding your aim as surely as any compass.