Ehron's page

Ardan looks at Kairon quizzically, then smiles and says, Oh! No need to try and figure it out. I should have said. It's a wand of cure light wounds. Should have about seven charges left, if I recall correctly. You can activate it with a flick of the wrist and speaking the word "curare."

Goruck, your rolls get you over the DC for each of those, because the wolves and spiders are common. Winter wolves are actual knowledge arcana, but I see you have the same bonus in that skill as well. So you can look up winter wolves, wolves, and nymphs at d20pfsrd. The entry for spiders is this one: giant spider.

Ardan sits silently puffing on his pipe, staring into the fire. His eyes have a vacant expression for a considerable length, all while the envoy and their companions talk about what dangers lay ahead. When a breath of calm breeze floats in from the forest, and along with it, yet more howling, he comes back to himself. Dolok, as to your questions, I don't know what kind of spiders they were. I only saw the webs, and some of them were about as big around as my thumb. I also saw a deer carcass strung up and drained of all its blood, so I'm guessing it is either really big, or there's more than one. What the thing on the ceiling was, I don't know. It didn't seem too disturbed by us, but then Milly and I tend to smell like animals. He chuckles to himself scratching the snoring bear's backside yet again. I'll tell you, though, they made a sound like leather flapping. Might just be bats for all I know.

Ardan waits for Illiam's hands to get as far across as his little body is capable of, and then, with a wicked smile, says, keep goin'.

Anybody with knowledge nature can roll a check for knowledge of Nymphs, or you can take ten, but I don't think anyone has a high enough bonus to make it with just a take ten.

Ardan nods to the young lady and smiles. I'd be much obliged if you did just that. Then he looks to Baradim and smiles even broader. I'd welcome the company. Seems the Jacks 'round here still hold to some of the old wives tales about the Fangwatch bein' nothin' more than a bunch of thieves and highwaymen. Just cause they wear masks, and sneak up on ya, don't mean they're up to no good. He motions around. Please, make yourselves comfortable. If you've tents go ahead and set 'em up wherever. If not, tuck into a bedroll right here inside this ring of trunks. Seems to me if we each take an hour on watch, everybody still gets a good eight hours. I've got a heap of firewood just yonder, he says pointing over his shoulder to the other side of the trunk he's resting against. Think I'll have 'nother pipe. Ardan says tamping out the ashes of his first bowl, and repacking it from the same pouch on his belt. Dolok, ye mind? He looks up at the fiery haired youth, expectantly.

Suddenly remembering he did not address the questions about Milon, Ardan speaks up once more. Forgot to mention Milon. I'll tell ye honestly that I'm worried for him. Was with the Fangwatch for twenty-three years, and never saw a better ranger than Milon Rhoddam. Sometimes it seems like he can see right out of the eyes of that hawk he's with. It's not the first time he's been gone so long, but there seems to be an angry energy in the woods of late. Like it's waiting for something, or about to start something. He looks at Baradim as he says it, and then adds, bīstamas

Ardan blinks as Illiam magically appears on top of the log. See, I knew you had some tricks. He hands his pipe to Baradim and listens to his surmising of the situation. Tu runā gudrus vārdus Baradim. Ardan says, taking the pipe back from the half-orc hunter, and taking a few puffs on it before addressing everyone’s comments and questions. Baradim’s experience has explained much already. He is right, both that the woods are alive, living, as though one creature. Yet they are separate as well, it is in their rule that the woods live and act in unity. They are ruled by Syntira, queen of the wood. Which is an answer to your question as well little one, Ardan says nodding to Illiam. One could rightfully name this wood a Fey wood, for Syntira is a nymph, the wood is hers, and there are many fey creatures that serve her loyally. As Ardan pauses in his speech, another round of howling comes from deep within the forest, echoed again by some far off pack. Baradim is also right that the wolves of the wood have sensed a new pack, you seven. There is a reason these hills, he points generally south and east, are called the wolfrun hills. They’re crawling with wolves, all of them one pack, they are led by a king and queen themselves, winter wolves who offer fealty to Syntira. So to answer your question Dolok, are you in danger? Yes, but not tonight. The Consortium has reached a tentative stalemate with the queen of the wood. She tolerates their presence, and they don’t provoke her ire. You would be wise to not provoke it either, but by entering her wood, running deep in it, you will provoke a test, my guess is the wolves have asked for the joy of being your test. Will they attack tonight? No, not by my guess, but be on your guard tomorrow, for they know the woods like their own den, and they will test your strength. He stops his lengthy speech for a moment and takes some slow deliberate puffs on his pipe. Now to get to the real why for coming to see me: a list of rare ingredients. You need to know where to start your search. At this he reaches into the shadows next to his big brown bear, perhaps into a pack that rests there in the shadows, and pulls out a piece of parchment and charcoal stick. He draws a quick sketch of the woods marking several locations. Here’s us. He says and make sure everyone gets a good look to orient themselves to the map. This here is the monastery, and I can tell you with certainty there are a host of ironbloom mushrooms there, spiders too, and something else that wouldn’t come down off the ceiling to give me a good look at it. This here, he says pointing at a mark near the top, is the oldest growth in the forest, and it’s also the hardest part of the forest to penetrate. It’s said the gate to Syntira’s sanctuary is there, so don’t expect a welcoming party if you are able to get past the tricks of the trees. If you’re looking for elderwood moss, it’ll be there. The oldest tree in these woods is thousands of years old, and she’ll probably have a trunk as wide around as the Arcaneum’s tower in Absalom. I’ve never seen it myself, but it’s got to be there. He pauses for a moment before making his last mark. This here is the last place I personally saw Ulizmilla’s hut. I’ve had a couple encounters with the witch. You see her, just keep your wits about you, she’ll charm your sword right out of its sheathe and then tell you to stab your own mom with it. And the damndest thing is, you’ll want to. Girl’s got a lot of weird ingredients hanging out in that hut of hers, but if she ain’t home, I wouldn’t go in uninvited, she’s got ways of dealing with unwanted intruders. Ardan holds the map out waiting for someone to take it. I wish you luck and the blessings of whatever gods or goddesses you worship. You’re going to need it. He says, and then sits back against his log, scratches Milly’s rump, and puffs away on his pipe, seemingly satisfied that he’s done as much as he can do.

Well, there's an enthusiastic youth, and no doubt. Straight to it then, and no idle chit chat, eh? Ardan smiles and accepts Dolok's kindly offer to light his pipe with a bit of magic. As the light of Dolok's arcane fire lights up Ardan's weathered face, he smiles a welcoming smile and gives the young man a wink. Thank ye kindly Dolok. Give your master my best. I only know him by reputation, but his reputation is next to none with all the Valers about. He pauses for a long moment and takes a few more long draws off of his pipe, and turns to blow some smoke at his bear companion, reaching a hand over to scratch her ample brown rump. Milly's had a long day, so don't mind her snoring. Traipsing through the woods is a dangerous business, which you're like to know soon enough if you're headed in looking for that list of things. Ardan takes a look around the fire at all the companions; there is no judgement in his gaze, but there is an appraisal. You've got fair chances with this group I'd say. He points at Goruck and Lunarinus and says, You'll need those weapons without a doubt, so keep 'em to hand. He looks at Baradim and his large cat and says, I'm sure the two of you know your way around a forest, but these woods is tricky, the path you thought you were on, might not be the path you're on, if you catch my meaning? After looking at Illiam Ardan says, I learned a long time ago never to judge the power of a man by the size of his body, or the strength of his arm. I'm betting you've got a right few tricks up yer sleeves, what'll help in a tight pinch, or my name's not Ardan Bonsimund! That goes for a woman too. He says, nodding to Chillel, and smiling. Finally he looks at Kairon, and a knowing look comes across his face and he nods. Healer, 'm'i'right? Here, he says and reaches behind his back pulling a long thin piece of metal out from his belt. He tosses it across the fire to Kairon. I reckon you'll be needing that sooner than I will anyway, plus it's only got a handful of charges left on it. 'Bout time I requisitioned a new one.

Kairon, you've just received a wand of Cure Light Wounds, CL 3, with seven charges on it.

Ardan takes a couple more drags off of his pipe pondering the list of ingredients. In the silence a howling of wolves whines out of the trees, closer than many are comfortable with. Then, those howls are echoed from some distant pack far away to the west.

They know you're here. Ardan says, as if that cryptic doesn't invoke more questions than it does peace and comfort.

After refreshing with some hare stew and a short rest, the group follows Lunarinus out of the small bundle of buildings, east, through patchy grass, growing saplings, and sparse bushes to a small gathering of about a dozen tents and half as many fires. The swiftly setting sun and the flickering fire light create some difficulty for those without darkvision to make out faces among the Jacks, which makes for a bit of awkwardness as the group goes from fire to fire scrutinizing faces looking for either the dwarf Curren or the man Ardan. Surrounding each fire are small groups of men and a few burly women each with a hatchet at their side, or an axe strapped to their back. Many are drinking from wineskins or stone jugs, and each group gives the party curious looks and more than a few grumbles. Thankfully the awkwardness of looking for one of the rangers is quickly relieved as a loud voice comes from a fire just south of the tree line. I'm guessing you're looking for me, says a strong, deep voice. As the party moves in that direction, careful to avoid the tie lines for tents, the fire light shifts and dances across the features of a tall man. Grey-blonde hair and beard hang long with occasional small braids, and the silvery lines of a few scars mark his face. Ardan sits on the ground, his back against the thick, dead trunk of a cut tree. Against the tree trunk rests a thick, darkwood composite longbow, and a full quiver of arrows fetched with owl feathers. He wears well-used leather armor in shades of brown and green, and several daggers sit in a bandolier across his chest. He sits, running a whetstone along the edge of an also well-used Elven Curve Blade. It strikes some of the group right away that Ardan's fire has no Jacks sharing it, he seems alone. However, immediately upon nearing the circle of firelight Kanga begins a low purring growl, and Baradim sees the source of her angst, a brown bear sleeps comfortably in the shadows at Ardan's side. The bear lifts its head for a moment, surmises the cat, and drops its head back down on its forepaws and almost immediately begins snoring again.

'Tis a nice cat. Ardan says, pointing at Baradim's companion. Come... He continues, motioning to the ground around the ring of stones that protect his fire, Sit. I believe I know why you're here. Which at first seems rather absurd, but when Ardan continues the group is no less surprised to hear his words. Your looking for a cure for the Blackscour ailment, 'm'I right? He pauses for a short moment as the group all find sitting positions around his fire on one of the various segments of tree trunk that make a sitting ring around the fire. I figured somebody would be about it sooner or later. It's not natural, the disease; I could tell that just from how quickly it started spreading. He stops running the whetstone along the edge of his curved sword for a moment, pulls a short-stemmed pipe from a pouch at his belt, and fills it full of sticky tobacco, then grabs a small stick from the fire and lights it. After blowing out a few smoke rings into the fire, he finally introduces himself formally. I'm Ardan Bonsimund, formerly of the Fangwatch, and now a scout for the Lumber Consortium. I am at your service. I'm sure you have many questions. I will do my best to answer them. He lifts his tobacco pouch out then, and raises it in question. Smoke, anyone?