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Academy of Drell, Part 7

"Why would the fires attract trouble, son," Lyrique's father asks. "We've been burning them since we got on this accursed rock. In fact, one of the orc shaman lit the first fire.

"Sure it was bigger then, but we kept it going with dung and a few pieces of driftwood we dried out. One of the students thought of that...."

Travellios observes the boats closely. The first five seem burned to the point of no longer being seaworthy. The other seven, most singed by fireballs, still seem quite capable of travel as long as they are oared. The sails of all of them were destroyed except the one in the southeastern-most part of the grouping.

Sildarin's brief flight over the encampment shows nothing unexpected. With the vantage provided by his psionic movement, Sildarin can vaguely make out a number of hills a half mile or so to the north. He doesn't recall seeing them earlier....
 

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"Ancient Spirits. We must get out of here. Something in the fire must be effecting you." He takes his parentss by the hands and starts leading them away from the village and toward the tower.

"Sildarin! Alert the others! The smoke from the fire in the village square might have effected thier minds! We need to usher the people out of here!"
He looks for Keith, Rallyn and Charlotte.
 

"We're not ensorcelled, son. It's cold and everyone's tired. But now that you're here, I'm sure it'll be ok. Especially now that you've assured us the dragons are gone.

"What's this about giants?"

As Lyrique's father is talking, the several score of Drellians seem to be gathering their meager supplies as had been suggested to them.
 

Rallyn pulls himself free from the snow at Lyrique's call and looks around for anyone else in the Drell guard. Failing that, he takes command himself, ushering people and hearding them quietly but with authority (west?) along the coast, sticking to the easy non-wooded ground, headed back towards the tower.
 
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Mortimer watches while the people of Drell gather their few possessions, crossbow still in hand. He scans both the crowd and his surroundings, keeping a weary eye out for any sign of danger. Lyrique's reassurances do little to quell the disquiet he feels.

"There are woman and children in this group. Our pace will be slow." He says quietly to Lyrique. "How long do you think it'll take for us to make it back to the tower?" Without waiting for a reply, he calls up to the flying Sildarin.

"Any sign of anything? And how long can you stay up there?"
 

Paendaerig heads off into the woods to make sure nothing tries to intercept the group without the groups knowledge, and will parallel the group until he is back at the tower trying not to be seen the entire time but also keeping a ready bow just in case.
 

Sildarin gets close to the ground.
"Something's wrong... I see hills... where there previously were none... I'll see what's there..."
With that, Sildarin gains some more altitude and heads towads the new hills.
 

Rallyn does a quick search of the people and realizes he's the only official guard, or even part-time guard. Thinking back, he knows there weren't any left among those who had been left on the island either. The only horrific possibility is that any Drell guards are all dead, probably having been killed at sea.

Along with Mortimer and Keith, Rallyn manges to rally the people together and retrace their steps eastward toward the tower. As he predicted, their pace is far slower than the adventurers had been. While the entire group will be movign at about half-speed compared to the earlier trip, there won't be any need to search for alternate paths, so the travel time will be aboutt he same. In other words, it took three hours to travel from the tower and will take about three hours to return. The current time is a little past 3 PM, so it will be dusk when arriving at the tower, assuming no major delays or change in route. Check the map, one page back. The Drell citizens were forcibly encamped where the 'arrow' is pointed at the shore in the southwest corner of the island.

Paendaerig moves north out of the camp, planning on skirting the edge of the Drell citizens. His gnomish height is a boon for hiding but makes breaking through the snow difficult in this untrampled section. As Paendaerig enters the denser foliage the snow becomes a lot less drifted and wind-packed.

Sildarin has fewer difficulties than Paendaerig, flying over the camp northward, toward where he has seen the "hills." With his elevated status, he can clearly make out the silhouettes of a large number of hill giants. At least six are easily seen, wearing the shaggy furs of gigantic felines, the rudely treated skulls of the cats fitting over the giants' heads like helms. The giants appear to be making slow but steady progress toward the camp just fled.
 

Knowing that they won't be able to fight six hill giants head to head even as a group, Sildarin descends closer to the ground. He tries to guess the route the giants will take to the camp and then lays ectoplasmic strands to around their ankle height in approriate places, hoping to at least slow them down a bit.
He then heads back to the fleeing citizens, keeping guard at the rear.
 

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