Galnuir's Archery

Galnuir

Blue eyes twinkle from beneath shaggy white brows as Galnuir pretends not to notice your inspection.  His long white hair pulled back with a leather thong, the old sylvan is dressed in the greens and browns of the forests.

Galnuir surveys the contents of his shop with pride and exclaims, "Indeed, no finer weapons were ever made."

The old sylvan bowyer deftly strings a bow and pulls it back to test the draw. Gently releasing the tension, he nods to himself.

Frowning slightly, Galnuir counts a nearby stack of crossbolts.

Stooping slightly, Galnuir retrieves a few quivers from beneath the counter and places them on a nearby rack.

Galnuir carefully counts out a bundle of arrows, ties them together with cord, and sets them aside.

Gesturing at an arrow in his hands, Galnuir explains, "These arrows have the finest fletching as can be done!"

Galnuir smiles proudly and says, "No finer bows to be had in all the Baronies."