Various bounty tasks were posted on the bounty boards. The light yellow paper described as detailed as possible the information of each bounty creatures. Although the protagonists of these bounties included Gnolls and Bear Goblins, which were marginal wise races, most of them were bizarre monsters and magical beasts.
They were not bountied because some part of these monsters was particularly valuable and could be sold as magic materials for a large sum, but because they had killed too many adventurers and knights of the Golden Clover Knights.
Adventuring was not like cultivating land with a hoe, nor like herding sheep to graze. The land and sheep did not have sharp claws and venom, which could tear people's bodies and turn them into a puddle of pus, but the monsters in the Foggy Forest could, and even worse. Bodies were torn and devoured, and lives vanished in an instant amidst the painful cries and roars.
From shock to numbness, adventurers who had experienced a lot usually took this lightly. Life is in your left hand, and living is in your right hand. When your attention is focused on one hand, the other hand will be neglected.
The creatures on the bounty board were usually different from ordinary monsters. After playing the Hunter and the Prey for hundreds of years, the boundaries between them were slowly becoming blurred. When you hunt, you are also the prey of other creatures - some monsters in the forest actively seek and kill humans.
They might approach quietly through the mist, or shuttle through the tall fir trees. In the corners where your eyes couldn't reach, danger gazed and waited.
These monsters were undoubtedly ferocious, so the purpose of the bounty board was to remind adventurers to be careful of those who did not follow the rules of the game and did not content themselves with being prey.
"There are werewolves in this forest?" Half-Elven Estelle pointed to a piece of paper pinned to the bounty board, her handsome face somewhat surprised.
Werewolves couldn't really be considered a species, as they used to be humans, humans cursed by an ancient curse. Legends of these creatures have been passed down since ancient times in books, operas, and proverbs, with the saying, "On the night when aconite flowers bloom in the full moon, even the purest of hearts cannot resist the curse's invasion into their hearts"...
A grey-robed adventurer wearing deer-skin lining next to the half-elf looked him up and down, his eyes slightly contemptuous, as if looking at a country bumpkin who knew nothing.
"A werewolf's got you surprised?" The grey-robed adventurer snorted.
"It obviously can't be like those magical beasts that originally belonged to the forest." The half-elf turned to look at the snorter, "How did it get here? And why is it here? I find it rather incredible."
"Why couldn't the forest beget a werewolf?" The grey-robed adventurer apparently didn't know the origin of this creature and tried to intimidate with a low tone, "Foggy Forest can breed any terrifying creature you've seen, heard of, or ever dreamt of. This even includes giant dragons! Giants dragons!!" He repeated twice, as if it would add to the sense of terror, "This is not a place for pretty faces like you."
"You mean the Ancient Mist Dragon?" The half-elf didn't mind the offense in the grey-robed adventurer's words.
"No, not that unproven, unseen thing, but real giant dragons." The grey-robed adventurer denied, "Look, that Norde Barbarian next to you has once killed one by himself." He pointed to Bartlett with his bandaged finger.
"That was a fake dragon!" Bartlett corrected, "A winged fake dragon that couldn't fly or breathe Dragon's Breath."
Even if it was a fake dragon, it could be one of the most glorious moments in Bartlett's adventurers' career. But he didn't want his temporary companions to misunderstand anything. Taking down a real giant dragon on his own? No, except for magicians, no one had that kind of strength, no one!
"Hey, Mr. Feeder, I was complimenting you." The grey-robed adventurer was very unhappy with the Norde Barbarian's words, "In Pig Bay, when someone praises you, you should gladly accept it and then praise them back. That's politeness. Have you forgotten?"
Bartlett did not say that only adventurers without strength needed to flatter each other.
Estelle looked at the dragon skin boots on Bartlett's feet, "So these are the spoils of war from your 'dragon slaying'?"
Bartlett nodded, not refuting the term 'dragon slaying,' as it didn't make much sense, "Only the skin under its armpits can be used for boots; the skin from other parts is too hard."
He used to have a set of armor made from fake dragon skin with scale decorations, which was the best leather armor most adventurers could obtain. Many magical beasts' claws couldn't penetrate its defense. But, during one adventure, that armor was corroded and ruined by the strong acid of a mutated monster. The armor saved Bartlett's life by blocking that fatal blow, which, for an adventurer, is the greatest value of wearing armor.
"Dragon skin boots and petrified cowhide armor, I noticed you right away in the crowd," the half-elf teased with a smile.
"What's the point? Maybe one day he'll feed himself to the forest," the gray-robed adventurer pulled out a dagger from his belt, casually addressing the half-elf as he cut the bandages on his hand. "If I looked like you, I mean, if my mom hadn't been with a drunkard who only knew how to get himself drunk but rather an elf with long ears, maybe women would blush when they saw me, not look at me with contempt. If that were the case, I'd sneak into noblewomen's bedrooms and have fun all day. Seriously, you must have 'done' a lot, right? How does it feel?" He grinned lewdly, like a laughing vulture.
Bartlett thought Estelle would be angry, but he wasn't. The half-elf maintained a polite smile on his face.
"Gold can get you what you want," Estelle said, "It pleases people more than good looks."
"It's not the same, many noble ladies don't buy into that, only 'cute girls' do. I heard those noble ladies bathe in milk, their skin as white and delicate as peeled boiled eggs! They smell of violets, and also have smooth, hairless bodies." The gray-robed man snickered again, "I'd lick them from toe to neck, not missing a single spot. Trust me, I could do it!"
"You can go for 'Hairless Carol'," another adventurer browsing the nearby task list sneered, "At least she meets your last requirement."
"Screw you, I'm not into female goblins!" the gray-robed adventurer cursed.
'Hairless Carol,' a female goblin kept in a large cage, was often used by adventurer teams to prank new members who knew nothing about adventuring. Bartlett had seen it once and didn't want to recall that scene.
"Even if you gave me more gold than there are goblins, I wouldn't touch those filthy little green skins with my 'little brother'," the gray-robed adventurer went on, and his expression became hesitant, as if the prospect of a massive amount of gold made the female goblin somewhat appealing. "No, no, I wouldn't." He reemphasized, this time without much conviction.
Riley was also hairless, and for some reason, Bartlett started thinking about that red-haired girl.
When did it happen? Bartlett couldn't remember, just recalling that it was beside a meandering river with crystal clear water. The sun shimmered and danced on the water's surface, dazzling his eyes. Bartlett took out his water bag and poured out the liquid inside, which had started to smell.
As he crouched down to fetch water, a light blue skirt slid down in front of him, revealing lovely bare feet atop delicate white calves.
The girl smiled at him, her innocent beauty leaving him momentarily bedazzled. The sunlight cast a gentle glow on her flawless body. The girl turned and gracefully stepped into the river.
In the end, Bartlett didn't do anything—he just turned and left, not even taking any water. He faintly heard the girl say something loudly behind him, like a confession or a curse, but despite his keen senses, he couldn't tell what it was.
...