Sturdy vultite-plated shortbow

This item was a prize from the Hunt for History.

Item

a sturdy vultite-plated shortbow

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Carved from a strip of oak, the short bow is plain but sturdy. The burrs on the side and rough craftsmanship hint at its beginnings, mass-produced in a rough and quick fashion. A thin plate of vultite bound to the front of the bow reinforces it, should the user actually have to parry a blow. The tiny stamp near one end reading, "Tamzyrr Armory, 4840" confirms the human origins of the short bow.

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Loresong

This item has no loresong.

Loresong

As you begin to sing, a vision fills your mind. You see a small stand of trees against a background that could be almost anywhere in Elanthia. A woodcutter moves among them and, picking a few of the healthiest, neatly fells them with his axe and drags the trunks to a nearby sledge.

You see a tall stack of logs now, leaning up against the side of a factory of some sort. Your mental eye blurs and the image reforms as you look within the building. Waterwheels glimpsed through an open window turn and gears clack while humans move in a brisk pattern throughout. As the image fades, your attention is drawn to the apparent purpose of all this effort, an intricate sawmill that turns out short, thin planks.

A knife flashes in sunlight and wood chips fall to mix with a heap of others below. The knife moves again in quick, practiced motions and while you watch, the form of a bow emerges from a roughly shaped oak block. "There we go," the unseen craftsman mumbles to himself in satisfaction as he tosses it aside. The bow, rough but serviceable, lands in a barrel that already holds dozens of identical ones.

Bright sunlight shines down on a short bow held in a steady grip. Your view pulls back and you see hundreds of identical bows being raised in unison by a contingent of archers. A loud voice harangues them, "Alright lads, we kicked these cave elves all over the countryside last year and when they tried to stand up to us at Gellig, we sent them running! One more time and we'll be in Ta'Faendryl by midsummer!" Hundreds of voices send up a ringing cheer.

But the cheer dies off with a low and uneasy muttering.