Displaced natives, the alien Kebah-Di'i have taken to the new ways of their adoptive society with surprising gusto.
Magik is slippery and dangerous to work with, and failure can have disastrous results. Yet the Sorcerer's continue to ply their art without the benfit of the engines and machines now widely recognized as essential to the making of magik.
The party comes across a nice hermit in the woods. He gives them food and lodging for the night. They awaken to his terrified screams. "East! It's east! Stop it! It'll kill us all!" The poor horror-stricken hermit dies thrashing in agony, one boney arm outstretched, his finger pointing to the east.