Carrion Verdant Short Bow of Water

Carrion Verdant Short Bow of Water gleams with a damp, green light, its stock a twisted slab of seasoned wood that feels bone-dry to the touch yet slick with moss. The limbs are slender and flex with a quiet grace, the grip etched with carrion-black runes that pulse when it catches the light. The string, pale as river-silk, hums softly as rain beads along the notch. Lorekeepers say it was forged at the edge of a flooded temple, where carrion birds circled and river spirits listened. The verdant glow is thought to be the memory of green glass in water, a kept vow of decay and renewal. In the hunter’s hands, it is less a weapon than a message written in wood and water: life enduring where it is most fragile. In play, the bow favors speed and precision. Its quick draw suits hit-and-run skirmishes, keeping enemies between you and the current. The water motif sneaks into battles too: arrows that slow, a shock of spray that cleanses a lingering condition on an ally, and a flow of support for a traveling band of scouts. The weapon is both tool and relic, reminding its bearer of hidden plumbing—aquifers and rain mists—streams that carve through stone. In quiet moments, you hear the river’s whisper and the rhythm of oars on a flooded quay as reeds close in. Market life breathes a different truth. At Saddlebag Exchange, a pristine Carrion Verdant Short Bow of Water can fetch more than a silken bargain, though price depends on conditions and runes. A willing buyer might offer near a gold coin when its inscription gleams true; on lean days it might go for silver. The point isn’t just wealth, but the bond among item, buyer, and road—between a weapon that carries rainwater in its veins and the travelers who rely on it to cross flood and canyon. Each time a hunter shoulders the bow, the story continues: a pact with river guardians, a resolve to shield the green between stone and flood, a pledge to answer when knives flash in the reeds. In the hands of mentor or fledgling scout, the bow becomes a compass—pointing toward safety beyond the bend and toward a world where water holds its breath and verdant light returns. The tale moves on, yet Carrion Verdant Short Bow of Water remains, a whisper of carrion memory turned into a lifeline for those who walk the current. On rainy dawn patrols, the bow rests against the hips of a ranger who learned to read rivers as a map. When a camp in the swamp is breached by whispering rivulets, the shot from Carrion Verdant Short Bow of Water cuts the fog and leaves the marauders reeling, their bodies slick with rain and fear. The weapon’s aura, a green thread through the gray, reminds the crew that danger and nurture share a blade’s edge. It is a keepsake and a toolkit, threaded into the world’s unfolding weather. Its story travels with every exchange.