Newhill
Laeleg wishes you a successful journey and then returns to the ramp. It looks like the one worker has successfully repaired the cart wheel and the caravan will get underway shortly. The cat rider continues to stare fiercely at the group until you get back around the bend out of sight.
Krassus remains fairly quiet. It's obvious that he's dying to say "I told you so" about going to Newhill, but seems to understand that such a comment would not be appreciated and has the discipline to keep it to himself.
At the end of the stone road, you notice that the tracks of the caravan, which had seemed about a day old when you first noted them just twenty minutes ago, appear to have faded much more than you would have expected. Indeed, it is hard to find any trace of the tracks now. Similarly, the tracks of the plantation marauders look older than expected. If you were coming upon them fresh, you'd think they were a half day old at least. Something strange is clearly going on in this area.
The group continues back towards the hills glimpsed below. Progress is fairly rapid. There's no paved road, but regular traffic between the hills and the gate road, creating a fairly well-worn track. It is marked with poles bearing Magari glyphs in places. Overall, it takes just under an hour to reach the hills.
(Time check: 4:45 PM)
Newhill sprawls across several of the hills in the small range. Farms are visible both on the hillsides and in the dales. In the lower sections you glimpse a fair number of zocalti trees. The hillsides are terraced and covered with a mixture of different crops, mostly unfamiliar. The crops are often mixed together, with two or three varieties growing in the same fields. Goats, chickens and pigs roam around large paddocks, but no cattle are evident. Humanoid figures are evident here and there, tending to crops and livestock.
Small, crude buildings also dot the hills - farmsteads and storage silos, built of thatch, wood, and dried mud. The largest hill is on the shoreward edge of the range and looks to be the most developed, with a small village of larger, sturdier looking structures sprawling out from a central square. The square is made of brightly painted bricks that form a mosaic in the shape of a stylized sun. A fair number of people are in and around the square, talking, resting, eating, drinking, and engaged in commerce. You also spot a dozen or so warrior-types clad and equipped similar to the dead guards at the plantation.
Three terraced, flat-topped stone pyramids stand out among the village huts and longhouses. One edges right onto the square, another squats on the edge of the hill overlooking the bay. The third looms from the top of the hill. It is the largest of the three, perhaps fifty feet tall and a hundred feet across at the base.
As you approach the village, the inhabitants definitely take notice of your group. Many of the conversations stop or continue in whispers. Some just ignore you after a quick glance, continuing about their business. The warriors slowly drift together into several small groups. They eye you steadily. There is no overt hostility, just wariness.