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Academy of Drell, Part 7

Rallyn is dumbstruck by the stone and mortar fort that has been built as he walks in.

"Great Mother... You guys have been busy."
 

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Ah, good... It's still here.
Do you realize that you just dismissed an invitation to a warm and secure place just to look at a tree?
Yes, I do.
Does that sound like a thing a sensible elf would do?
In my case, yes.
In your case indeed...


Sildarin hefts himself to the lowest branches of the tree, not really having an inclination to take a nap on cold ground, and settles down. He leans his back against a tree and closes his eyes and thinks nothing for a moment.
 

Palasant nods sagely at both Rallyn's and Lyrique's comments.

"It was done with a magic staff of some sort. The stone is some kind of shadow-magic. I don't pretend to understand, but the Crimson Guard brought in a sorcerer-engineer and he had the entire place laid down in a few minutes. Since then, a small corps of gnomes have been digging a ditch around it. The Empire mobilizes quite rapidly when important people are endangered. Your gold at work."

The young human beckons those he knows best into the largest tent in the center of the compound. A rude wooden table covered by an intricate parchment map of the island sits in the middle. A small luminous globe hovers over the map.

Palasant hangs his falchion on the central tent-pole and gestures at some piled up cushions. "Have a seat; tell me what happened."

* * * * *

From his vantage in the trees, Sildarin sees many of the crimson clad guards wandering all over the island, usually in pairs. After a short time of contemplation the same halfling he'd seen earlier comes riding up on a war dog. It's obvious the dog has been following Sildarin's trail by scent.

The armored halfling looks up and says, "Hi, I'm Marin. Busy?"
 

Lyrique smiles and starts in on the "Tale of the the Giants Folly".
Perform skill singing 19+12=31
Craft Epic skill: 11+2=13 to get all the details of what happened.
Once he's done he will excuse his possibly missing a thing or two.
 

Rallyn tries to motion towards one of the guards as he's walking through the fort and asks if he can get some hot broth and maybe some bread.

***

Rallyn sits down on one of the cushions still rubbing warmth into himself as Lyrique makes their story sound like some kind of grand adventure. Afterwards, he looks at Charlotte. With Sildarin run off somewhere he works with her to tell the story from the beginning. Filling in details about Yodwin the shadow creatures, joining up with some of the others, and bits and pieces that Lyrique didn't know about or that they saw differently.

Between the group of them they detail pretty much everything they can remember.

When he gets to the book he asks if Palasant has ever heard of the pair of supposed giant defenders who threatened to murder all the survivors of Drell for the book.
 
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Sildarin frowns internally, but does his best at keeping a neutral face.
"No... I guess... Why...?"

I knew you should've taken a bath!
I doubt that would've helped against a hound.
But it wouldn't have been so easy to follow your stench.
I don't smell
that bad!
Yeah, live a dream...
 

Palasant listens intently and without comment. Halfway through Lyrique's telling of the tale one of the brutish orc-blooded Crimson Guard walks in with a tray filled with fresh and steaming miniature loaves of bread. Carefully balanced in the center is a half dozen cups of some thick meaty stew. The half-orc sets it on the table over the map. Palasant gestures for everyone to eat while Lyrique continues his tale.

"That's quite a story," Palasant says, sounding genuinely impressed. "With Rallyn's addition I think that answers all my questions about what happened.

"It's amazing with all this combat ... the orcs invading, the giants, there's only been about ten deaths -- eleven now that I've learned about Boromin. You - all of you - have done extremely well.

"As to your question about the defenders, that's something I know very little about, just the common stuff anyone knows of the legends of Xargon. I mean, I'm from the far south, so he's just a boogeyman there. Some of the candidates I went to school with from the north used to talk about Xargon in a different light. I suppose he was real, but who knows what the real character was like, all twisted by myth over two-thousand years.

"Speaking of the book. Who has it?"

* * * * *

The halfling dismounts neatly from his wardog. "I don't mean to disturb your meditations, I was just concerned about your well-being. You must've been through quite a lot."

Marin sidles a little closer to the tree, staring intently at Sildarin for a moment. He smiles and says, "Ah well, you seem ok, I'll be on my way unless you need help with something?"

As he asks, Marin remounts his steed and looks as if he's ready to ride away.

* * * * *

Travellios arrives at the library. It's nestled in the center of the plateau of the Academy and the wind is relatively calm. The door that was burned earlier has been patched. Inside, it's calm and quite, only a few heatless magical flames shine and illuminate the interior.

The entire library appears to have been ransacked. Every book has been knocked out of it's shelving and left in a disheveled heap upon the floor. Several thousand tomes lie scattered.

* * * * *
Everyone not mentioned - pipe up, I'm not ignoring your actions on purpose. :)
 

The sight of the destroyed library is almost enough to bring tears to Travellios' eyes. Whatever vestiges of remorse he held for fireballing the orcs back on the island are washed away at this sight.

"Such a monument to knowledge treated like so much trash! How barbaric! *sigh* Someone will have to begin the process of recataloging all of this. Truth, after all, outlives both war and peace. I don't suppose anyone else in here?!"
 

Rallyn shrugs as he honestly doesn't know who has the book, he forgot again in all the hustle and bustle. His little frame has built up a mighty appetite though and he attacks his meal with vigor.
 

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