The Necrotic Essence Short Bow Skin unfurls in your hands like a settled shadow made of carved midnight wood, its limbs tapering to a quiet, lethal elegance. Ebony grain runs along the bow in tight, deliberate rings, while thin slivers of what looks like bone are inlaid along the grip and belly, forming a spectral lattice that catches the light with a cold, glassy sheen. A faint, sickly green glow threads through the spine’s runes—not bright, but persistent, as if a pulse from some long-kept secret is travelling just beneath the surface. The string, wrapped in sinew and bound with blackened copper, hums softly when you nock an arrow, a sound that feels almost like a whisper from the dead. As you sweep the bow through the air, you notice the texture shifts in your fingertips: the bone inlays bite back ever so slightly against your touch, the wood grain catching on knuckles as if it remembers every hand that has ever drawn it. The finish leaves a matte dusk on the surface, so it isn’t showy in bright daylight, yet under lamplight or torchfire the hue deepens into a coal-black radiance. The small crest near the grip—the suggestion of a jawbone clasped in a metallic band—seems to tighten its grip as if the bow itself is listening to stories you haven’t told yet. When the string is plucked, a dry, crisp tone escapes, and the essence glow gathers at the notch, like a breath held long enough to chill the air around it. Lore threads into the feel of the weapon: many travelers speak of necromantic artisans who once wove such skins into weapons meant for silent hunts and whispered oaths. Some say the Necrotic Essence was born during a plague festival, when a caravan of menders bartered with relic-bearers for a way to restrain sorrow and sharpen fear into focus. The skin’s bone accents resemble relics from fallen banners, and the green glow is interpreted by storytellers as a tether to ancestral shades—enough to hint at power, enough to remind you that history is sometimes a blade with two edges. In practical terms, this is a cosmetic skin for a Short Bow, not a stat modifier. Its value is storytelling and style: a way to signal a hunter’s philosophy, a necromancer’s aesthetic, or a ranger who cherishes the hush of night and the inevitability of fate. It invites roleplay—the bow becomes a character, a narrator in your party’s saga, paired with robes or leather that whisper of moth-eaten tombs and lantern-lit avenues. You might use it to punctuate a stealthy approach or to underscore a solemn pact made under an ebon canopy. Pricing threads into the tale when I wandered through the crowded stalls of Saddlebag Exchange, where traders haggle with a rhythm learned from long journeys and louder tales. The Necrotic Essence Short Bow Skin hung on a peg with a price tag that read just under a gold coin, then shyly shifted to 1 gold and 75 silver after a careful negotiation about provenance and mood. The hawker’s fingers traced the glow along the spine, insisting that the story alone was worth a little extra coin, and a traveler’s wink confirmed the sentiment: some artifacts carry weight not because of what they do, but because of where they’ve been. By night’s end, the bow feels less like gear and more like a kept promise—the kind that tethers you to a past you didn’t choose and a future you still chase. It’s a piece you’ll carry into the shadows, letting the necrotic glow reveal, ever so slightly, the loyalties you carry and the paths you’ve yet to walk.