A Ranger's Herbal -- Arynne Liadon's Notes

[Carillon]

[SIZE=10]*The following is penned on the inside cover of a thick leather-bound journal. The book smells faintly of greenery, and when opened one is sometimes surprised by a forgotten plant that was pressed between its pages*[/SIZE]

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   [SIZE=16]A Ranger's Herbal[/SIZE]

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[SIZE=13]A Series of Notes on the Flora of Mistone and the Continents Beyond[/SIZE]

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  [SIZE=10]*Below is a sketch in black inkof a delicate flowering plant, from open blossoms to sinewy roots.The sketch waspenned with some skill and in considerable detail, and the name of the plant is written below*[/SIZE]

[Carillon]

*A sage plant is shown here in detail, with a small note scrawled in the margin indicating which part of the plant should be picked and dried as a seasoning. Underneath it are a few paragraphs of neat script*


It is fitting, I suppose, that the first sketch in this book is of a sage plant. I have been using the leaves of the sage rather a lot in recent days, as I have been asked to prepare some meats for a wedding between two of the local townspeople I have encountered here. As sage does not grow in the more temperate climate of central Mistone, I have had to venture out of Hlint to collect the leaves, at some peril to myself.

To be fair, two friends of mine also have brought me leaves. The ranger Sallaron Tempest, head of the Explorers' Guild, guided me through the desert a few weeks past, and when we met in passing a few days ago in Haven he had a few more leaves on him which he gave to me to use. We have travelled occasionally in the past, he and I, and I find his company pleasant.

The greatest portion of the sage leaves I have been grinding up for seasoning has come from a young elven bard, however. She answers to the name of Therise Silverstar, though due to a curse of some sort that answer will always be in the form of verse. Slight as she is -- or perhaps through her bardic charms, I know not which -- she has managed to travel through the desert unscathed several times, and is thoughtful enough to bring me the leaves of any sage plant she passes near. In return, I have promised to brave the monsters of a few of the nearby caves for some raw minerals she has need of.

*here the text ends sharply, and continues less neatly a short space below*

I must remember to watch these roasts more carefully. I have scorched this day's meat beyond repair! Even the hungriest barbarian half-orc would not touch what is left of the dish with a quarterstaff at this point. Furthermore, I should probably scour the oven before I leave or Yastin, the innkeeper here, will have my head.

[Carillon]

*A fine sketch of an aloe leaf in cross section appears on this page. The paper is sticky with juices, and the fresh, cool scent rising off the page makes you suspect that they are from the plant species in question. Below are some alchemical notes, and a paragraph of text*

I must remember to restock my supply of bandages. Yesterday, while waiting for Therise, I met a young druid outside the Surge in the rain. After having a drink together inside, I agreed to help him battle the undead in the local crypts. However, the expedition drastically depleted my healing supplies, as the crypts are filthy and disease-filled. This is not surprising, considering that they are also peopled with animated rotting corpses. However, it is never good to go out unprepared, so I must replenish my stock before going adventuring again.

Although I did manage to collect some aloe while I was on Dregar a few days ago, I should really make another trip to gather plants. This time I will use a more local source, as Dregar has become overrun with giants, it seems. It was nice to be so near to my home again, I did not have time to visit my mother as I was with a rather large group of people. Perhaps another time I will be able to spend a few weeks there before returning to Mistone again.

I miss my home, but the wanderlust in me still burns strong. There is much of the world I would still like to see before eventually settling down, and when that time comes I cannot predict where I will choose to make my home. Perhaps it will be here, in Mistone, or perhaps Rilara -- my choice will inevitably be guided by the choices of those I have grown close to during my time on this continent.

[Carillon]

*a dozen or so new pages have been filled with sketches, detailed drawings, and notes on a variety of plants, followed by a brief paragraph of script*

Having recently returned from a collecting expedition on Rilara, my pack is currently stuffed to brimming with plants, fruits, berries and nuts which simply cannot be found on the continent of Mistone. The trip, though it required a great deal of stealth, was a welcome escape from the din of the towns and cities I have been frequenting as of late. I was accompanied by a friend of mine, a roguish man who goes by the name of Kell Ereptor. He is a kind and gentle soul, cursed by an unfortunate circumstance surrounding his birth. He hides the effects of that misfortune with his garb, but only a stranger would judge him based on his appearance. To know him is to be forced to look past the superficial and to embrace the kind spirit within him.

Kell makes an excellent travelling companion, and we are very compatible. I have travelled for weeks with him across the wilderness and not grown tired of his company. His manner is sometimes strange, but his keen intelligence makes for witty conversation at least.

Rilara is an interesting continent, more dangerous in many areas than Mistone. While there, Kell and I had the fortune of visiting the Garden of the Minaret of Symphony. My heart was captured by the flowers populating those grounds, but my friend Therise would be more enchanted by half by what lay inside those halls. Perhaps I shall ask her to accompany me on my next trip there.

Kell and I also visited a sanctuary of monks, located high on a cliff above a pounding waterfall. The climb was invigorating, as I could feel simultaneously the warm sun on my back and the cool spray from the cascade on my face. The sanctuary itself was also very beautiful, though I could not understand most of that which I saw, and I could not find a monk available to guide me through the halls.

I must be off now, to return to the room I am renting from Acacea in Harmony Grove. My pack is nearly overflowing with supplies, and I must get the softer berries and fruits into storage before they bruise and spoil.

[Carillon]

*Some notes on processing cotton precede the scrawled text below*

Finally! All of my hard work with a needle and thread have paid off. Not only have I mastered the art of spinning cotton, but I have been able to put that skill to good use in the fashioning of several useful items.

In addition to cotton, I have of course also used spider's silk, animal leathers, and in the case of a special bag, an entire bottle of enchanting oil! The expense was not insignificant, but the properties of the bag seem to outweigh the cost of the magical supplies.

I have given a bag to Kell, and kept one for myself as well. I have also made some fine cloaks and gloves that have interesting properties. Perhaps I shall inquire about the town, and see whether a market exists for such things. Although I am still under the employ of Miss JennaJade de Shade as a chef for her wedding, the cost of living on Mistone is still high and I have had to purchase many supplies to advance my knowledge of several local trades.

I continue to actively pursue my advancement and knowledge in the trades of alchemy, tailoring, metalwork, woodwork, and others in the times when I am not battling monsters, researching and collecting specimens of the rarer Mistone flora, or simply enjoying the sanctitude of the forests. It is a busy lifestyle, to be certain, but living among so many humans has impressed upon me that time is indeed precious, for their lifespans are much shorter than those of my mother's people, or indeed perhaps my own, the gods willing.

[Carillon]

*It appears as if the author began a series of sketches on grapes and vines, but abandoned them before completion. Underneath the half-finished drawings, the script is shaky and irregular*

My recent journey to Rilara has shaken me to my very core. I should say my very soul, for it was on this journey that I again met she who takes and does not give.

We began our travels with the intent to escort a young cleric of Aeridan to a little fort to deliver a letter. Another, a halfling, had a similar task to do and so accompanied us on our journey.

At first, the trip seemed as uneventful as most we have taken on that continent. The paladin Galan was with us also, and Kell as well. I led the party through the winding paths among the trees of Dinen, and through the Wolfswood. Having scouted these areas before, I was able to lead the party in relative safety to Lake Rillon. There we paused to fish, before continuing on to the Fort itself. We crossed the Plains of Caltin with no incident, and the letters and packages were delivered safely.

It was after this that things began to take a turn for the worse. Kell and I decided to follow the path of a journey the two of us had taken together some weeks before, and led the others through the region of Io Lake right to Karthy. There, the shock of the slave trade was too much for Galan, and indeed I think for the halfling as well, though he hid it better.

I must admit that my heart cries out at the sight of creatures -- any creatures -- in cages, but I have had more time than some of the others to learn to control my temper and school my face to hide my emotions. The fact that these creatures were sentient was too much for Galan, though. He insisted that we do something about the situation, and it took some time before Kell and I to impress upon him our helplessness. The slaves are guarded carefully, and even a few of the guards would have quickly overpowered us.

Galan's temper was hot, though, and he was not the only one among us who was angry and frustrated. To alleviate our feeling of helplessness we decided to venture into the swamps outside the gates and take out our rage on the trolls that lurk there. At first, our plan went smoothly. I managed to separate several trolls from the larger packs and draw them to the group. They were quickly taken down by Galan's blade and Kell's bow. When I tried to separate the next troll from the pack, however, he alerted his comrades and the entire pack descended on us.

Knowing we would be quickly overpowered, Kell and I, as if of one mind, both summoned down a cloud of darkness, shouting for the others to head for the gates. We ran, and made it through in safety, but one or two of our companions, perhaps not hearing our shout, remained outside the gates. Even knowing it was fruitless, honor would not allow us to hide in cowardice behind the walls of the city while our companions were slaughtered. We charged outside again, to be confronted by a dire scene.

Galan and the others were trying to hold off a half a dozen trolls, but were being decimated. I tried to summon an animal to guard us, but two trolls descended on me and my breath was knocked out of me by their blows. They quickly slaughtered the party, except for Kell. He lay there, helpless, his wounds very serious but not lethal. I only learned of this later, though, for as soon as the swamp faded from my sight I was embraced in the cold arms of the soul mother, and it felt as if she reached inside my very soul.

After we were sent back through the bindstone, I managed to convince the others that Kell was lost to us. They were ready to charge out through the gates, but moments later he appeared at the base of the bindstone as well. In the confusion, I slipped away. The touch of the mother was still burning in my mind, and I could not face the others.

I ducked into a back alley of Karthy, where I could hear the cries of the slaves and slavers, and also the occasional shouts of mirth from a nearby Xeenite temple. I collapsed to the ground, and put my head between my knees. The world was spinning, and I would have been lost had Kell not been there to comfort me. I shall not speak of what passed between us, but the nature of our relationship has changed greatly now. He and I have grown much closer, and though I have lost something to the soul mother, I have also gained something of immeasurable worth.

[Carillon]

*tucked among the regular sketches and notes is a piece of fine parchment, neatly folded in three. Unfolding it, you find a letter that has been penned in a delicate scriptive hand in dark ink*

My dearest,

It has been a few weeks since I saw you last, and I must admit the absence is weighing on me heavily. It is an uncomfortable feeling, as if I had forgotten something or were wandering through the forest with neither weapons nor pack. I did not realize how accustomed I have become to your presence in my life until chance kept us apart.

My mind is full of memories of the times we spent together, travelling Mistone and Rilara. Do you remember the night we spent camped on the shores of Lake Rillon? The sky was dark, as it always is these days, but our fire yielded enough light to let you fish in the lake. You caught a catfish, and I cooked it up with tinder and spices from my herb pouch. We sat there for so long, picking up chunks of the flesh and teasing out the thin bones. I have never tasted anything so delicious, I think.

I also remember afterwards, while I was searching for fallen wood for our fire, you disappeared for a moment. You startled me when you returned, materializing out of the shadows suddenly. I had to stifle a scream, and I was annoyed at you until I saw what you had been doing. You'd gathered a few handfuls of ripe red cranberries, and we shared them over our campfire before falling asleep by the shore, wrapped in our cloaks.

And then there was the next night we camped there, on our way back to the city on the point. We had been travelling for a month and a half, to Karthy and back the long way. I couldn't help but think what the scene would have looked like, on a clear, moonless night ... the stars would have lit up the sky. It is a pity that the darkness Blood cast upon the world is so long lasting.

Do you remember the stag? That image will never leave me. We had doused the fire with lake water, and it was so black I could barely make out your outline, even with the eyesight I inherited from my mother. You could hear the water lapping gently on the shores, just barely moving, and every so often you could hear an owl hoot or a fish stir. And then suddenly, out of the black, the stag materialized.

It had clearly come down to the lake to drink, but it was the sheer size of it that startled me. Also, you rarely see deer that pale. The stag's coat was nearly silver, and was stark in contrast against the darkness of the sky. The antlers on its head branched again and again like a tree reaching for the sunlight. I reached for your hand, and just then the stag turned to us, and swung its big head around to look straight at us. The eyes were deep and black, as dark and still as the waters of the lake. It just stood there, looking at us for a time. I think it sensed we meant it no harm -- I can usually impress that upon most animals I encounter these days. Still, its gaze was unsettlingly direct, and it reminded me of the stories I've heard of humans who can take the shapes of animals.

I turned to you, to try to read your expression in the dark, and then I felt you stiffen, and when I turned back around the stag was gone. What a majestic beast that was! He was a king among deer, that one, and though I am sure the hunters would prize him for his thick silver coat, I keep hoping he is swift as well, and able to elude them. That coat would offer no protection against arrows, and the silver would be as bright as a full moon in a clear  sky against the dark green foliage of the woods.

I feel a bit like that stag right now, without you by my side. I feel conspicuous and vulnerable. Usually I can melt into the forest, just dissolve among the trees and shrubs. I can walk where there is no path, and leave no trace of where I have been. Right now, though, I feel like I first did when I left the Forest of Mists and sailed to Mistone. I remember walking down the streets of Hlint, and seeing all the people milling about. Such a mixed group I had never encountered in my life, and yet I felt as isolated from them as from any group of people I have ever known.

It was you, love, who changed things for me. You were one of the first kind souls I met in that town. I didn't see your face for weeks, shaded as it was by that black hood of yours. And yet, I think I felt for you even before you lowered your hood to me for the first time, and I saw the face of the man I had grown close to.

I must cease this daydreaming, now. I fear I have exposed far too much of my heart to you on this sheet of parchment. I shall put my quill away now, and seal the edges of the paper closed with hot red wax, and tuck this letter away for now. Perhaps I shall send it to your place in Leilon, if I run across a mutual friend going that way. Or perhaps I shall hold this letter back, until I have seen you again and I am more myself.

Regardless, I hope it is not long before our paths cross again. You bring more joy and brightness to my days than you know.

~Arynne

[Carillon]

There is little to report from these past few weeks. Though I have made several trips into the wilderness of Mistone and one into Rilara, I have not encountered any new flora or fauna. I am beginning to think I must venture further afield if I wish to discover new things.

With that in mind, I caught a ship bound to the Dragon Islands. However, the forboding feeling surrounding the island did not put me at ease, and when I saw how angry the forest guardians were I decided it best to return to Mistone before my presence did any more to unsettle the creatures guarding the area.

I left the Forest of Mists on Dregar to see the world. Why do I feel just as restless on this continent as I did with my mother's people?

[Carillon]

*Among the pages of notes you find a draft of a letter. The script is neat but those fluent in elven would easily notice the poor grammar and limited vocabulary. A few words and entire sentences have been crossed out and rewritten several times. Except for the fine, controlled hand it is written in, it might have been written by an elven child still struggling to grasp the intricacies of the difficult language*


*written in somewhat broken elven*


Dear Mother,

I am sorry it has been so long since last writing to you.  Much has happened, and will continue to happen, it seem. I am healthy and happy, and finding much travel and work. Many people need help it seems, and I give help when possible. I am much happy to help others, but helping is very dangerous in some times and I have many deaths.

I should tell you about one time I helped. There was accident in caves near swamps, and lizard birds became sick. You know the lizard birds, with wings red like apples? I cannot remember elven word for lizard birds. When the lizard birds bit trolls, the trolls became sick too. I helped, and two friends helped too, and no people or elves became sick, thank Folian.

There is disturbing news, also. Many evil ones, dark elves, have been seen on surface. I have hunted them with others, like I have hunted beasts, but they multiply. The dark elves have started to be bold, also. They walk with heads bare, with no hoods or cloaks to hide. Since sun is gone, all the world is dark for the dark elves. I think they will try to make entire world like Underdark.

I am sorry writing is poor. Truthfully, I practice little now that I am within those speaking Common language. Human language is simple, easy, but elven language is more beautiful. I perhaps will find teacher, help practice elven tongue. Then when I write, I will not speak like child.

I also should speak to you of journey I made to temple of our god. I left through magic, and came back through magic. I walked through trees for many days, and climbed many hills. The fairies in woods are angry, not liking visitors, so I not greet them. I hide, and walk in shadows. Finally, I come to temple. It is very beautiful, like temple of our home. I speak to woman of temple, and leave gift of coins.

I must stop now, but I send also gift. It is a warm cloak. I make cloaks, and armors also. I hope the cloak keeps you warm, and reminds you of me, half-human daughter.

I love you very muchly, and I will try to visit soon. Right now roads are dangerous, full of monsters. When I can come safe, I will come. Until then, Prince of Wolves keep you safe.

Your daughter,
Arynne Liadon

[Carillon]

On the alchemical properties of the local flora:

I have been meaning to record some of the properties of the local flora, as the plants and flowers of the region have proven very useful in curing ailments and illnesses, aiding in the healing of wounds, and even augmenting certain physical abilities. Although my skills with alchemy are still poor, I think it best to record here some of the discoveries I have uncovered thus far.

Naturally, it is the aloe plant that is most well known for its healing properties in these regions. The gentle, cooling fragrance of the sap calms the mind, and when applied to wounds or burns can also calm the anger of the body at its injuries. I have noticed that cotton soaked in this healing fluid can be molded into a cloth-like substance that can be used as a dressing. The best results seem to be attained when the aloe juice is first mixed with the dust of the mineral known as greenstone. This common mineral can be found in some caves, but it is unclear whether the rocks themselves possess any healing qualities or whether it is merely the dust that is needed to change the consistency of the aloe sap.

I have noticed also that several other plants in the region are useful in warding off sicknesses and aiding the body in its struggle to combat injuries. The garlic root or bulb, which can be dug out of the earth, is sometimes added to aloe sap and diluted slightly to make a cure-all draught. Unfortunately, the taste of the garlic and aloe together is so foul that the mixture must be diluted quite a bit before it is at all palatable. Consequently, the draught is not as potent as some available for sale from temple clerics.

Also to be noted is the calming properties of the comfrey root. Again, it is a root that must be combined with the powerful aloe sap to make a healing draught. The beverage resulting, if one can call it that, is potent enough that it is used for more than curing hangovers by those who spend too much time in taverns. Indeed, I have become accustomed to carrying a few bottles of the stuff with me when I travel, in case of emergencies.

It should be noted, though, that these draughts are utterly impotent when applied to the effects of poisons. Indeed, other than rest and recuperation and clean and pure bandages applied regularly to the site of the pustulous wound, only a draught with different properties can remove the lingering effects of these plagues. I have experimented with a few such possibilities, but the materials are difficult to collect and my findings are sorely incomplete.

One final observation is that the clerics do not seem to value the natural world as much as they value the power of their gods. By this I mean that I have seen many clerics scorn the powers of plants and instead use magic and the blessing of their deity to create their healing drinks. As I am unable to bless water, I asked a clerical friend and a paladin I trust, an Aeridinite and a Toranite respectively, if they might supply me with some of this water. The cleric, who is extremely skilled in making the simple healing draughts, advised me to combine the water in an enchanting pool with several knuckles of an undead body. Though this recipe seemed gruesome and macabre, I must admit that the results are comparable to my potions. However, I still prefer using that which Katia and Folian provide us, rather than cheating death by using the body parts of those who have met the soul mother for the last time.

I have heard also that there is something to be said for the properties of ginger and ginseng roots, and for the teeth of the monster known as a bodak. As bodaks have been known to hold considerable sway over death magic, these are certainly worth investigating. I have collected some limited quantities of the reagents, but until I stop spoiling potions by letting them boil over I fear that all such trials would be nothing more than a waste of materials.

*below is an intricate drawing of a nondescript healing potion surrounded by alchemical ingredients. The drawing links the alchemical ingredients to one another, and is covered in notes. It also proposes several new recipes for cure-alls that could be considered in the future*