Half-elf Ranger

The near-noon sun hung motionless on the top, scorching everything, and even the trees, as if exhausted, drooped their branches.

The two of Thorne, who were halfway through the trip, after the bard drank the last bit of water from the water bag, under the strong suggestion, they finally came to the open area deep in the woods to rest for a while.

In this regard, Thorne, who was in a good mood, did not refuse.

In fact, for him, there are many faster and less labor-intensive ways to go to the town of Twin Towers, which is not far away, but he chose to walk.

He didn’t mean anything else, he just wanted to quietly feel the pleasure brought by the long journey.

Although he once made a long-distance journey from Waterfall Town to Winter City, but at that time he was alone, full of grief, and set out with a longing for great power in his heart.

Therefore, he could not feel the joy of the journey at all. For him, it was more like a strong mission spurring him and driving him. This mission was the belief in guarding the town of waterfalls.

At this time, he just wanted to hone his mood and will, and to find the ladder to the highest road, he must always maintain a relaxed expression.

This was the last sentence that Master Druid Qingchen gave him before leaving.

Only in this way, it will be easier for him to find the path of a ranger that truly suits him, and to cultivate a perfect heart of a ranger.

Along the way, though he is often silent, the talkative bard Gilt keeps changing the subject:

It is custom in a small village in the Silverpine Plains that girls must be forced to remain virgins until they are married.

The best way to tell if elven women are spellcasters is to observe the size of their breasts.

The Great Rift in the Bright South is home to the remnants of Netheril, whose skyships often soar under the blue sky.

On the night of the full moon in the Black Pearl Forest, if you are lucky, you can see the dark elves living deep in the forest dancing celestial dances.

Their ebony-colored skin, shrouded in moonlight, was like crystal clear black pearls, and the shameless poet also maliciously wondered if the ‘Black Pearl’ forest was named after the naked body of the dark elf…

Even he kept complaining about the bards of this world, saying that none of them could be called a real artist, and they didn’t know what art was at all.

He believes that the great significance of art lies in the fact that it can show the true feelings of people, the mystery of inner life and the world of passion.

The creation of art is not purely for art, its main purpose is to vent most of the suppressed impulses, just like why everyone loves to watch the banned Xiao Huangwen.

And Thorne retorted Geert with a smile: This is not an excuse for you to miss a hotel with special services.

When the two came to the depths of the woods, they happened to find a clear river. There were several farmhouses surrounded by fences on the opposite side of the river. The wafting smoke was telling them that there were people living there.

Excited bards volunteered to show off their craft in the woods like a child discovering a new world.

Thorne bought a slaughtered lamb from the village opposite, and Gilt took advantage of the gap between him and the farmers to sneak into the vegetable garden behind the house to get fresh garlic, carrots, weeds and veggies.

Then he daringly tried to steal an iron pot for making soup while the dwarf blacksmith was drunk and unconscious, but was bitten on the bottom by a hound hiding in a dark corner, chased into the river, and turned into a chicken.

In the end, Thorne took the sword and threateningly threw two gold coins to the irascible dwarf blacksmith, which quelled the anger, got an iron pot, and defused the disaster for Gilt.

As the bonfire crackled cheerfully, Gilt hummed an obscene tune to the birds in the woods, carefully flipped the golden lamb, and stirred the steaming hot pot with peeled pine branches. soup.

Thorne, who doesn’t know anything about cooking, sat cross-legged under the big tree, mastering all the moves of his four genres.

When the two were full of roast lamb and carrot bisque, Thorne lay on the branch of an oak tree with his hands behind his head.

And the bard Geert threatened to play his proud stunt for the Ranger.

Thorne said he didn’t want to hear a poignant love story, he wanted a happy ending.

Gilt was silent for a rare moment, then his expression was unprecedentedly solemn, and then he held the harp and began to play for the ranger:

“The wind blows down, the memories of the flower-like years are falling down with the messy pace, there is such a memory, it knocked over the fire in my heart, and then it burned violently, I saw that red glow, like a flame a beating heart…”

Gilt the bard clung to the harp, his cheeks pressed against the body of the harp, and he kept playing as he watched the fading light of the fire.

It was a slender and elegant teak harp with twelve silver wires, and the wood was adorned with shimmering emeralds, depicting unforgettable misty clouds.

Thorne, lying on an oak branch, had never heard such a beautiful voice and such a melodious song. It reminded him of some good things.

He thought of Andrina, who was staying in the tower, and the experiences of the two of them all the way from Winter City to Waterfall Town.

He thought of Lilia, the half-elf priest who was taken somewhere by the black dragon, and her sweet smile guiding him from the darkness to the light…

This is a very calm ballad about a first love:

In an ordinary life, a pair of lovers seem so calm and unwavering from encounter, acquaintance, acquaintance and love.

No big ups, no big downs.

They walked through their lives together in a peaceful way.

The four seasons of the year are different, and I will try my best to maintain it all my life, bit by bit, to feel and appreciate the trivialities and ups and downs of daily life with warmth.

Thorne was so fascinated that he didn’t even notice that a fierce and hungry gnoll stopped and listened for a moment, before disappearing silently into the depths of the woods.

Unconsciously.

Thorne suddenly found that the progress of his Ranger Heart, which had not been moving for half a year, jumped to 96%, and the path of Kendo soared by 10% to 60%…

At this moment, he seems to have found a way to improve, which increases his hope for perfect advancement by another point.

When he looked at the bard with joy, he found that the other party had put away his cynical and bohemian demeanor, and was staring at his harp slightly.

As if the ballad just now touched his nerves.

In an instant, Thorne captured his fleeting look, a loneliness that was extremely rare for him… like a tree with all its leaves, desolate and sad.

“Hey, what do you say people live for?” The recovered bard looked up at the ranger in the tree and asked with a smile.

“What do people live for?” Thorne, who was lying on the branch, gave him a deep look and replied seriously:

“This question has actually troubled me for a long time. No matter which path we take, it will point to an answer: people live to live.”

“That’s true.” The poet nodded slightly, as if agreeing with the Ranger’s point of view. He continued, “But, isn’t it an infinite cycle?”

“Why?” Thorne sat up from the branch, interested.

“No matter what life we ​​pursue, we can’t escape an unyielding reality in the end.” Gilt resumed his original expression, and he stood up from the stone: “This reality is: we will all die! What’s the point of living then? “

Thorne smiled indisputably, looking at Gilt’s serious expression, and didn’t refute him, because he was right.

Gilt saw Thorne smiling and silent, and was about to continue his tirade.

Suddenly sensing a dazzling fireball hitting the direction of the Desolate Skull Mountains, even the ground trembled, he couldn’t help exclaiming: “Damn it! Such a big meteor fell in the daytime. Thorne! Come down quickly. Make a wish!”

“That’s not a meteor, it’s the nine-ring spell “Meteor Burst”, it seems that the Desolate Skull Mountains are very lively. ‘ Thorne, looking to the sky, recognized the spell being cast.

When he looked at the bard on the ground, he was instantly amused by his actions.

Because the other party really folded his hands, his eyes were slightly closed, and his mouth was chanting words, making a wish in the direction of the Desolate Skull Mountains.

After a while, Gilt opened his eyes and said to Thorne with a smile: “What wish are you going to make?”

“Me?…” Thorne, who was sitting on the branch, looked at the other person’s serious expression. He did not spoil his interest, but whispered with a solemn expression:

“I hope that the hundred or so dragonborn who are walking here are not targeting us, they are just passing by.”