Magi's Soft Wood Longbow

Magi's Soft Wood Longbow lies on the worktable, its pale limbs curved like a waking swan and catching the light with a quiet amber glimmer. The grip is wrapped in leather that has softened to the touch, worn smooth from years of steady draws, and the string—fine as a spider’s thread—sings a faint note when you pluck it. Along the grip, tiny runes bite into the wood, not for show but to remind the wielder of a vow: to aim true, to shelter the weak, to wait for the moment when distance becomes kindness rather than risk. The wood itself carries a memory of winds and forests; lore says it came from a grove tended by old Magi who coaxed it to bend without breaking, granting a patient resilience to whoever learned its rhythm. In the field, the bow feels like a companion rather than a tool. Its draw is forgiving, the limbs springy yet controlled, so a hunter can hold a breath and place a shot with a quiet confidence that travel-time techniques demand. It rewards patient planning: a scout who peers above a ridge with this bow learns to read the air and the shadow of the target, trading speed for accuracy, letting a single well-placed arrow decide the encounter. It is not the loud hammer of a siege weapon, but the careful whisper that breaks a guard’s line of sight and turns a skirmish toward a safer flank for allies. The world in which Magi’s Soft Wood Longbow moves is threaded with exchange and memory. Traders speak in the dialect of trade routes and markets, and the Saddlebag Exchange is where an ordinary bow becomes a story you might tell at night. A decent specimen will drift between eight and twelve silver, depending on wind, shine, and the quiet afterglow of the runes. People trade for it not only for its utility but for what it implies: a hunter who respects craft, a craftsman who understands the weight of a well-drawn line. A client might swap leather strips, a bundle of fiber, or a share of a day’s hunt for a version that has kept its temper under rain and rainstorms. When a ranger shoulders Magi’s Soft Wood Longbow, the moment feels almost ceremonial—the quiet inhale before a measured release, the world narrowing to a line of sight, the arrow becoming a thread that stitches a small victory into a larger story of survival and solace. It is a tool, yes, but also a token: of skill, patience, and the enduring bond between hunter and wood. On a damp dawn, a dealer will tell you a caravan survived a night raid because a single shot from this bow pinched the gap between sentries and shelter. The wood’s soft resilience absorbed a moment of misjudged snap, letting the archer recover and draw again. Buyers at Saddlebag Exchange hear the same thread in the story—craft, debt to the forest, and the promise that a well-made bow can turn a bad day into a new beginning. In such hands, Magi’s Soft Wood Longbow keeps singing.