Furbolg & ElvenArcher
ElvenArcher
Hey, I’ve been watching how the bark’s growth patterns shift the wind’s sound—thought you might find it interesting how a tribe’s old hunting paths adjust to those subtle changes.
Furbolg
I see the bark shifting, the wind whispering through it. The old hunting paths still hold their stories, but the wind reminds us we must move with the land.
ElvenArcher
The bark’s rhythm is the forest’s heartbeat, and every arrow we let fly must echo it—miss a shot, and the story never ends.
Furbolg
The forest’s heartbeat guides us, so every arrow must be true. A miss is a dishonor that echoes far.
ElvenArcher
Every arrow that misses is like a twig that falls out of place—so quiet it still echoes through the trees. Keep your focus tight, and the forest will listen.