Half-elf Ranger

Winter City, a seaside city of the Free Federation.

Thorne walked silently in the lower city next to the port, walking towards his destination.

Xiacheng District is the residence of the lower-level civilians. There are many houses with broken stone and rock roofs, some of which look crumbling, as if they will collapse at any time.

A gust of breeze blew, and the cold wind from the Sea of ​​​​Glory and the smell of moisture greedily permeated this backward urban area, causing pedestrians to tighten their thin clothes.

Most of the civilians living nearby are ordinary people and some unfamiliar outsiders who have endured urban labor for a long time.

Dock porters, sailors, far-flung adventurers, caravan escorts, and more.

The camp of Winter City tends to be absolutely neutral, and it does not exclude any foreign races from entering and leaving, of course, provided that you do not cause trouble.

There are all kinds of residents and adventurers on the streets, and various body shapes, appearances, skin colors and colorful costumes express the unique characteristics of each race.

The tall dragonborn strode through the crowd in a hurry.

In the shadow of the stone house not far away, a cunning tiefling rubbed his hands, with a wicked smile at the corners of his mouth, waving his tail, and a restless gaze flashed in his eyes.

A group of dwarfs gathered around, laughing at an ingenious wooden toy that activated and moved on its own, celebrating the success of the effort.

The smiling ogre carried a newly hunted Warg on his shoulders, and walked through the street with a stench all over his body, and everyone avoided it with disgust.

The goblin wizard with the gray pointed hat stood at the door with his hands on his hips, arguing loudly with the kobold warlock carrying a basket and holding a mining pick, and a group of melon eaters gathered around and pointed.

Rough dwarves, small and agile halflings, dusty half-elves, and drow elves who are far away from the sun, squatting in the corner with their arms and legs folded...

In this prosperous port city, the number of players is surprisingly small. Except for those who died accidentally, most of them are concentrated in the poor and backward villages and towns in the wilderness.

This is a cruel otherworld. The intrigue between nobles in the bustling big city, the conspiracy woven by the evil gods, the underground network of thieves' unions, the death list of the killer organization, etc., are filled in the seemingly prosperous shadowy corners.

It is difficult for player forces to have a foothold here, and most of those who stay here are struggling to survive at the bottom.

After countless lessons of blood and fire, these so-called sons of heaven finally realized their insignificance and no longer competed for this limited piece of cake in the city.

Most players are far away from big cities, go to remote wilderness villages and towns, and compete with those evil intelligent races for limited living space.

In Toril's world, it is only there that they have the opportunity to emerge as their own elite template players.

Natural selection, survival of the fittest!

One year after the game was launched, it has been more than a year since all players traveled here.

Most of the people who can adapt face the reality, and those who can't adapt slowly disappear from everyone's sight.

Some people make ancient vows to purify all evil in this world, and some people just want to build their own territory and shelter for players to live the rest of their lives in peace.

There are also some people who can't accept this cruel reality, and they take their precious lives hastily. Some people even choose evil sacrificial rituals in order to gain powerful power, and sell their souls to the demons of the abyss, the devils of hell...

Humanity...is fully displayed here!

Thorne recited a sentence in his heart, and immediately rows of light blue data appeared in the retina:

Name: Thorne

Race: Half-elf (wood elf blood)

Background: Farstrider

Attributes: Constitution 14, Strength 15, Agility 20 (+2), Intelligence 12, Wisdom 17, Charisma 12

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Occupation: Level 10 Militia (max) Level 4 Ranger (020000)

Health: 4646

EXP: 25035

Practice point: 10523

Skill Points: None

Attribute points: none

Racial Traits: darkvision, elven blood, wild mask, keen senses

Class Skills: Stealth 13, Hide 15, Perception 14, Roll 15, Taunt 5, Heal 7, Concentration 11, Spellcraft 4, Knowledge (nature) 7, Movement 9, Craft (arrow-making) 8

Class Traits: Proficiency with simple and military weapons, Weapon Focus (longsword), Weapon Focus (longbow), wild empathy, animal companion

Favourite Enemies: Humanoids (Gnolls, Ogres)

Occupational Feats: Tracking (Mastery), Durability, Two-Weapon Combat, Survival

Common Feats: Precision Shot, Alertness, Mobility, Dodge, Quick Shot

Personal Expertise: Athlete, Tenacious, Rolling Attack

Martial Arts:

[Desert Style] lv1 (12420000)

Red Lotus Sword (enhancement technique), Flame Star (strike technique), Fire Avoidance Technique (stance technique)

[Soul of Steel] lv1 (3620000)

Clear Body (Stance Skill)

Ranger Magic: One Ring (44)

Hunter's Mark, Entanglement, Resist Energy Damage

Looking at his attribute column, Thorne felt a little sad. This was the result of his two years of hard training and practice in the game.

This world is not as good as imagined. In two years, the level has only been raised to level 4, which is already at the upper level in the player group.

Compared with those tough spellcaster professions, it's not too good.

Because most players who choose wizards, druids and priests, because of the need to master a complex knowledge system, most of them have not succeeded in taking up jobs, which is real and cruel.

"It's time to wrap things up." Thorne sighed and glanced at the run-down residential area in the distance.

…

Crunch!

The rotting door seemed to turn into a pile of useless ruins afterwards.

Thorne gently pushed it away and walked in.

Bang bang bang!

There was still the familiar sound of knocking in the courtyard, and Thorne's eyes turned to a hunched figure who kept beating against the stone.

The old man who had been through vicissitudes of life had white temples, and his wrinkled face was dull and dull. His withered hands held a hammer and a chisel, respectively, and kept tapping against the stone in front of him, emitting bursts of sparks.

But the outline of the stone still can't tell what it looks like.

"Any wine?" An old voice echoed in Thorne's ears.

Thorne immediately handed over the wine bag around his waist and said, "Dragon Bite Bitter Wine, a very special dark beer, would you like to try it?"

"Dragon Bite Bitter Wine, this special dark beer has a history of nearly a thousand years. At the beginning, only the Dragon Bite Brewery could make this fine wine."

The old man stopped the movements in his hands, the look of memory appeared in his cloudy eyes, but his hunched body seemed lonely.

After finishing speaking, he took the wine bag in Thorne's hand, feeling the familiarity that he had not seen for a long time.

Thorne stood still, looking at the old man in front of him while drinking and remembering the past.

This is a mysterious old man who holds the ancient inheritance of nine swords from the Karatu continent.

And Thorne came to Winter City half a year ago. He was fortunate enough to get acquainted with the old man. After going through all kinds of difficult tests, he finally got his approval.

Obtained part of the inheritance of the Nine Swords.

Now, Jiujian has mastered "Steel Soul School" and "Desert Wind School", and the purpose of coming here today is to obtain the third sword technique: "Shadow Hand School"!

This is the key to his multi-tasking Sword of the Sage.

At that time, there were three basic occupations of the nine swords that appeared in front of him: the sword of the military road, the sword of Tianzhu, and the sword of the sage.

And after deliberating for a long time, he chose the sword of the sage.

This profession belongs to a master of martial arts skills, a sword mage whose knowledge of the path to the highest can unlock all kinds of powerful abilities!

These abilities are all supernatural in nature.

"Take it, young half-elf ranger, don't forget your promise!" After the old man finished drinking, he took out a book with a black cover and handed it to Thorne.

After speaking, he picked up his hammer and chisel again and continued to beat aimlessly at the stone in front of him, sparking sparks.

Thorne took the book, and when he saw the three words of the quaint Shadow Hand School on the cover, this word was passed down from the Karatu continent, and he was fortunate enough to master it all.

Bang bang bang!

In the dilapidated stone house courtyard, there was only a dull sound of beating.

Thorne looked at the old man's movements, was silent for a moment, then touched his chest with his left hand, bowed deeply to the old man in front of him, and turned away without hesitation.

Searching for the lost continent of Karatu in the turbulent times, this is Thorne's promise to the old man in front of him!

The old man's life, name, strength, origin... Thorne didn't know anything, the old man didn't want to mention it, and Thorne didn't want to ask.

All he knew was the three ancient sword techniques from the eastern kingdom that the other party taught him.

And what he needs to do is to find the lost empire in his lifetime, there are no restrictions, only a verbal promise, that's all.

As the knocking sound gradually disappeared from Thorne's ears, Thorne's figure once again came to this dilapidated and busy downtown.

Thorne looked up at the gloomy sky and the wizard tower that was more than 100 meters high, and said to himself: I must leave here tomorrow!

The west of Winterfell faces the threat of the gnolls in the Great Swordscar Mountains, and both sides have accumulated hatred that has permeated the depths of their blood since the chaotic and turbulent years.

Never die!

In the southern port, the sahuagins of the Sea of ​​​​Glory are about to move. The only purpose of these devils from the deep sea is to turn Winter City into the waves of the sea.

The Black Pearl Forest in the east is a group of hobgoblins managed by a militarized model. The ambitious hobgoblins have long forgotten how they lived under others' fences.

They despicably tore up the covenant with Winter City, thinking about turning the prosperous Winter City into their Shura Field all the time!

Stormy Winter City!

Can those nobles in Shangcheng really resist it?

Thorne doesn't know, he only knows that before the city completely falls...

Leave quickly!