Apothecary's Krait Short Bow

Apothecary's Krait Short Bow rests on the table, its silhouette a study in controlled menace. The bow's limbs are carved from dark, resinous wood, polished to a near-mirror sheen that catches the lamp light and throws back a green-glass gleam. The grip is wrapped in worn leather, etched with fine scales that mimic the mottled skin of a krait. Along the limbs, inlays of pale bone and green lacquer trace serpentine lines, culminating in a carved hooded head at the tip that resembles a coiled viper just waking from sleep. A small glass vial is set into the midsection, sealed with cork and a drop of amber liquid that never quite seems to settle, as if the weapon itself holds a tincture in reserve. To hold it is to feel a whisper of danger. The bowstring sits tight, the draw smooth, as if the wood had learned patience from centuries of poison-makers and caravan guards. In the right hands, this short bow becomes a swift rain of copper-green arrows, each shaft a pinprick of intent. Its true strength lies not just in speed but in the lore it carries—an apothecary's craft transmuted into weaponry: venom-laced tinctures, traps of precision, and the trust that a cure and a cut can share the same edge. In the old markets where caravans gather, merchants spoke of the Apothecary's Krait as a tool for those who heal with one breath and strike with the other, a paradox that made it both coveted and feared. In gameplay terms, the bow excels at quick trades of distance—poke, retreat, set a slow poison, and keep the pressure on. Its shots apply condition damage with the subtlety of a quiet potion, stacking slows and poisons as you weave between cover. Players who favor deception and mobility find it particularly rewarding: you can set up toxin-driven combos, punctuate it with a finisher, and rely on the bow's compact frame to keep you light on your feet in tight places like ruined temples or cavernous markets. Market life shows another face of the bow's life—the trade lanes, the price, the stories. I followed a dialogue between a collector and a dealer down a sun-worn alley, where coins clinked and scrolls rustled. The broker spoke of rarity and demand, and the buyer weighed the risk of buying a piece tinged with danger. In that moment, a sign outside the stall announced Saddlebag Exchange, and the pageant of prices shifted. The exchange turned the Apothecary's Krait Short Bow from rumor into reliable gear for those willing to chase the next quest, and perhaps the next vial of green venom kept behind glass in a jar of alcohol-smoothed light. Carrying it, you carry a legend—one that remembers the craftsman who bound remedy to weapon, and the traveler who learns to read danger in its lacquered scales. Maybe that is the bow's real medicine: it teaches restraint, timing, and respect for the stories etched into wood, where every shot tells a patient, tender truth.