Assassin's Elder Wood Short Bow

Assassin's Elder Wood Short Bow gleams in the lamplight, a slender arc of elder wood lacquered to a midnight sheen. The limbs taper to fine points, like a predator's talons, and the grain runs in soft, pale arcs that catch every flicker of candlelight. The grip is wrapped in worn, weather-dark leather, scarred by years of thumb pressure and quick, precise draws. Along the riser, runes etched with patient care glow faintly when the strings hum, as if the forest itself keeps a memory of every arrow that ever left this weapon. The bowstring, taut and symphonic, bears the weight of silence; it is said the elder wood remembers the footsteps of those who hunted in the night, and that memory lends the weapon a measured, almost deliberate feel in the hand. In the world where stories are forged with every shot, the Assassin's Elder Wood Short Bow is more than a tool; it is a practice, a discipline. For the thief who moves like a shadow, it offers a way to thread cover to target with minimum noise, to strike and fade before a guard can call for help. Its short reach is not a flaw but a feature, inviting a rhythm of draw, release, and retreat that fits the stealthy, river-smooth pace of a well-honed ambush. In combat, it pairs with the thief's agility: a rapid sequence of yard-long arrows that land with surgical precision, then a step into shadow before the world can blink. The lore murmurs that elder wood does not forget a hunter's whisper; that an assassin who bonds with this bow learns to move as if the world itself were thinning, leaving only the hiss of a near-miss and the quiet exhale of a life saved by a split-second decision. Stories travel with such weapons, drifting from campfire to campfire, and the market tells its own tale. In the winding stalls of the Saddlebag Exchange, a trader will lean in and speak softly of scarcity, of the elder forests thinning under weight of conflict, and of how one weapon can tilt a balance between survival and pursuit. A buyer pockets the bow with a grin, counting out gold in equal measures of caution and awe, feeling the wood's age as if it were a compass pointing toward unseen routes and unseen dangers. The price is more than coin; it is a credential, a promise that the next hunt will bend toward fate rather than chance. And so, the Assassin's Elder Wood Short Bow continues to travel, from trader’s table to the nimble fingers of a hunter, through stories of night markets and quieter mornings, a testament to how a single, exquisitely carved weapon can guide a life along a thread of shadows.