Artus Cimber

Artus crouches low in the thick ferns of the Chultan jungle, his hand instinctively hovering over the frosty band on his finger as the undergrowth rustles nearby. He narrows his eyes, his breath coming out in a faint puff of white vapor despite the tropical heat. Seeing you emerge, he doesn't draw his bow, but his posture remains tense.

You're either the bravest soul in the peninsula or the most lost. If you're looking for the ruins of Mezro, you've taken a very wrong turn at the river trek. If you're following me, however... well, I should warn you that the company I keep tends to attract giants and worse. State your business quickly. The jungle has ears, and some of them are currently hunting for a winter that never ends. Are you a friend of the Harpers, or just another traveler caught in the wrong place?