The girl quickly ran out of steam. She didn't have the endurance nor was fit enough to sustain a sprint for long, and that was under normal circumstances. When the kind man in the horse intercepted her and the threatening woman caught with her, and that other woman who first approached too... She just resigned to all of the attention. "Maybe this is all a bad dream?"

She leaned on a wall to catch her breath. "Ok, you all win." she spoke with resignation as she noticed the rain was still following her. "lovely..." she mussed as the adrenaline rush began to fade. "I can't feel my legs..." She began to feel drowsy and the world around her started to turn black.

There are no evil auras in sight around the rain or the startled young woman.

As Amber, Jerec, and Davor speak and argue in the town square, they attract no little attention from the other merchants and patrons.  As Amber dashes off to follow the young woman, Jerec and Davor are left holding the bag.  Jerec, looking perhaps less intimidating than Davor, is addressed by a motherly, plump halfling who runs a baker's stall.

"Goodness gracious, what in Yondalla's name is all this fuss and sword-waving about?  Who might you be?  And you?  Why did you scare off that young Helena?" she asks, addressing Jerec, then Davor in turn.



As Amber, Aria, and Urle dash off after the young weaver, the exertion and excitement grows too much for her.  As she begins to swoon, Amber and Aria quickly realize that in the young woman's fear, she had run directly into the waterfront district.  And while Pearl Fort is prosperous, prosperity doesn't lay its hand on everyone equally.  This part of the waterfront district is mostly warehouses and the occasional tavern, the clientele of which is generally rough.  The Cracked Hull tavern is not known for its refinement, and the clatter of hooves from Urle's steed has brought out a knot of hard-eyed sailors and mercenaries.  They linger in front of the battered wood of the old tavern, eyeing the three warriors and the woozy weaver.  Amongst the crowd you also spy a short figure in dark robes, a rather unusual choice for the ruffins of the Hull.

Looking rather unperturbed over all the commotion, Jerec watched the weaver being chased by a horseman, then the sword wielding woman and then the other woman. Sighing, and hoping the young girl wouldn't fain out of fright he turned his head towards the half-orc as he spoke.

"Oh no need for that, I have come across many types of folk in my travels, and I can recognize a fellow adventurer when I see one, at least most of the time." Jerec replied with a chuckle, waving his hand as the half-orc inclined his head at him. "Stabbings are never a good thing, least of all when they happen to you. My name is Jerec, by the way," he added with a knowing smile.

Stroking his beard as he considered the half-orc's question, and the implication that he knew Jerec's trade, the mage considered how much to reveal about himself. The half-orc appeared as clueless as he was about this place, so there was little chance he would be his contact here for the mysterious job Jerec had come to this town for.

On the other hand, the half-orc appeared knowledgeable enough about the world to realize Jerec was a mage, which would not be a surprise if he was a mercenary or adventurer as Jerec surmised.

"The spirits told you hmm? Interesting. I confess to not knowing much as of yet, but the cloud fall could be from any number of things. For a mage, it is but a simple trick, but I do not know if that girl has knowledge of the arcane arts. Her reaction implies she was just as surprised as anyone," he answered finally with a small shrug of his broad shoulders.

As the girl lost conciousness, Amber rushed to help her up. She glanced at the Urle and Aria while scanning the premises. The folks who gathered around them didn’t seem friendly enough for her taste. “We don’t want to linger here. These people might be bad news for us,” she whispered. In this rough area, her eyes were particularly drawn to the conspicuous robed figure. But she tried to avoid eye contact and instead paced toward Urle with Helena still on her shoulder.

“Could you help bring her back to the market square with your steed?” she asked the cavalier. “It would be better if she is taken to a safe place as quickly as possible.”

He held up his hands defensively to the halfling baker and gestured towards the rain cloud which had stopped somewhere in the direction of the waterfront. "You cannot just ignore an omen! There is some mystical force at work." As he said that, one of the ropes holding the awning of the stall snapped causing the awning to fall lazily. Looking up in the air at nothing in particular, Davor said: "That seems a little anti-climactic."

Returning his gaze to Jerec and the halfling, he grinned wide, his expression just a little manic, and answered the woman's question. "As I told the rude woman waving the sword around: I am Davor Spiritwalker. I am shaman from the mountains." For all his talk of omens, he seemed strangely unconcerned that the most significant one was now some considerable distance away.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:35, Thu 31 Jan 2019.

Jerec looked at the plump halfling woman with a raised brow, suppressing the urge to bring his staff in front of him in a defensive gesture at the matronly woman's ferocity.

As Davor dared to face her Jerec simply nodded along and added, "Indeed, we were just staring at her because of the sudden appearance of the cloud above her head. That's not normal, though since I am but recently arrived perhaps its a regular occurrence here?"

In case she took afront at his subtle barb and started chasing him with a rolling pin, the mage hurriedly added, "We just wanted to make sure she was alright, nothing more. Can you tell us if anything like this has happened to her before, or if any odd events have happened around her in particular?"

As he waited for her reply Jerec looked at Davor and gestured in the direction where the young Helena had dashed off to. "Should we investigate and see if aught is alright? The horseman riding after her could have some ill intentions for all we know, we don't want to end up charged with aiding and abetting a kidnapping," he said wryly.

"I agree," Aria said with a nod. "Perhaps we should vacate this area as swiftly as possible. In fact, let us retire to the Pearl's Rest Inn. We can get some breakfast and discuss our interests regarding this situation. My treat..."

The entire time she was talking, the red-haired woman did not take her eyes off the gathered ruffians. The dark-robed individual garnered most of her attention and her blue eyes searched for any symbol or marking that might identify who or what they were.

OOC
I'm going to take a good, long look at the short, dark-robed figure and see what I can see.

18:43, Today: Aria rolled 34 using 1d20+19.  Perception check (Dark-Robed Figure).

"I'll get her there and make sure she's okay. Probably just too much excitement for one day."

It took some coordination, and a slight lack of dignity, to hoist the fainted woman on the horse with Urle, but once safely on, he moved back and headed towards the inn that he had just left "Not the day we had planned for ourselves, is it girl?" He asked his horse quietly.

“Pearl’s Rest sounds fine. Thank you very much for your generosity,” Amber said to Aria. With Aria already keeping an eye on the suspicious figure, Amber focused her attention on the weaver girl and the cavalier during the conversation.

She took her leave and followed Urle closely behind, keeping in mind that trouble might yet appear this morning.

Outside the Cracked Hull tavern



With agreement all around to get someplace less insalubrious, Urle, Amber, and Aria take Helena with them.  But as Aria looks back, she stares carefully at the hooded figure who seems to be trying to bore a hole in them with its gaze.


The sailors and mercenaries give the three warriors a once-over, but seem to decide it would be more trouble than its worth to tangle with them, and drift back into the tavern, grumbling.

In a short while, the group has arrived back in the market square near the Pearl's Rest.

----

In the market square



The baker seems mollified by Davor's quick response.  "I've seen you lurking about the place for a while...  But you've done no harm."  She shakes her head, as if to rid it of uncharitable assumptions.  "For certain if you're a Spirit Walker, you know a thing or three about omens.  What does that rain mean, and why did it fall here and now?"




"Good heavens, that's not normal!  We petition Vogon and Obad-Hai regular as anything for fair skies and calm seas, and for certain our priests are not to lax as to forget their rites.  And if the gods were mad, why just drop a little rain on poor Helena?  Foundling babe, sweet as sweet, always does what she's told, always singing to pass the time, she couldn't offend a fly, let alone a god, big or small!" the baker says, throwing her hands in the air.

As Jerec and Davor are discussing, Urle, Aria, and Amber arrive back in the square with Helena in a swoon across Urle's saddlebow, pausing in front of the Pearl's Rest Inn.

OOC: Vogan is the god of rain and weather, Obad-Hai is the god of nature.

Scratching his chin a bit, Davor contemplated the baker's question. "Rain washes away the old and brings the new. Or it could be a sign of stormy times ahead. Without knowing who sent it, it's hard to tell." To Jerec's question he said: "I think we had better go, yes. Though I don't think we'll have to go far." He smiled in thanks to the baker and began to make his way across the market square just as those who had chased after the girl returned with her unconscious. He approached until he could see if the girl was unharmed and then kept a bit of distance to observe.

Aria breathed a little bit easier as they arrived back in the market square. What she had seen beneath the hood of that dark cloak worried her, but in such a crowded and public place, she doubted anything nefarious would occur. At least that was her hope.

"Let us not tarry here," Aria said as she glanced back over her shoulder. "That man in the black robe...let's just say I'd rather not discuss what I saw here. Let us get some breakfast and I'll explain."

"Agreed," Jerec replied to Davor, following the half-orc's gaze towards the returning group with the young Helena (or so the baker had named her) draped across the horseman's saddle.

"Well there she is, looking sound. Worry not madam, we will get to the bottom of this," Jerec said to the baker before following Davor to the returning group. He got close in time to hear the emerald eyed woman's words and raising a brow asked, "A man in a black cloak you say? That sounds ominous..."

He did not ask for details, the woman had said she would rather not discuss what she saw in public. Moreover Jerec was also worried for the young girls health. Glancing at her prone he looked up at the horseman and asked, "She is not injured in any way, I hope. Otherwise the townsfolk will have us hanged before the day is done."

He was only partially joking though, for some reason Jerec found himself truly worried about the girl's safety. She did look quite innocent, and it seemed she had gotten caught up in events far outside her mundane life.

Amber mentally calculated how many people were involved in this scene. “It seems that there are five of us here who do not look like an average villager.” The preceeding events that transpired had made Amber a bit hungry. And so she started moving toward the Pearl’s Rest. Beckoning the others over, she added, “In any case, let us hurry to discuss this situation together in the inn.”

With the group of those apparently very interested in Helena's fate all gathered, the group can quickly decant to the Pearl's Rest Inn.  Helena starts to come around a little, or at least enough that she can walk with much assistance, so at least the group is not hauling an unconscious woman into the finest inn in town.

The Pearl's Rest Inn has a large common room with fine carved tables and chairs, a very large fireplace well-faced with neatly-trimmed stone, walls decorated with elegant scrimshaw and sea-themed tapestries, with a large polished bar behind which stands a human barkeep; a blonde woman of middle age and quiet charm.

The Inn is lightly populated at this hour, mostly consisting of those having late breakfasts.  As the group doesn't seem travel-worn enough to be seeking one or more of the rooms upstairs, a serving halfling politely inquires, and provides, access to one of the private dining rooms.  The fee is five gold for the room and another ten for food and drink for all, if desired.

Inside is a round table, a dozen chairs and two leather-covered benches, along with a sideboard containing several crystal-cut bottles of various-colored liquids and accompanying glasses.  The walls have a few more paintings of seascapes, and some others of scenes out of legend or myth, showing nymphs and gods, forgotten kingdoms and the broken empire, strange animals and lost lands.

The serving halfling will appear after just a moment with bread, butter, and a pitcher of the house wine (along with glasses), before taking himself off again.  Such things are part of the price of the room.  Certain meetings cannot take place without the breaking of bread and a toast or two.  More gold will bring more or tastier viands or beverages to discuss the strangeness that brought you here today...

Aria didn't bat an eye at the requested payment. In fact, she reached into her belt pouch and dropped five, shinny platinum coins in front of the barkeep.

"Bring your best and plenty of it," the red-haired woman said with a glance toward the massive half-orc. "I have no doubt we are all in need of sustenance and long discussions always make me thirsty."

Once they had all entered the room and the hafling had scurried off to bring the main course, Aria glanced around at those gathered. Her gaze lingered upon Helena for a long moment before she spoke again

"We all saw what happened earlier, with the rain and this girl," Aria said matter-of-factly. "I was hired by the church of Tritherion to find a girl whose presence would be heralded by some divine sign or portent. I believe this young woman to be the one that I'm looking for. With that being said, I'm curious as to the rest of your intentions. I would assume that others are interested in her as well."

Davor raised an eyebrow at Aria as she paid for the dinner room, the food, and presumably quite a bit more. Once everyone was inside and the halfling server had gone, he took a seat and reclined against a wall. "Maybe a round of introductions? I am Davor Spiritwalker, a shaman from the mountain tribes. I came here following a vision given to me by the spirits of my ancestors." For the time being, he said nothing about Helena. He leaned forward, poured himself a glass of the house wine, and leaned back again to drink it.

There was a bit of blur, and the noises were hard to understand, but little by little the senses started to return. The feeling of being on a moving object, the touch of a hand and the guidance, blindly and shakily going along with the flow. Then sensing a soft seat. The light became painful and there was no choice but to close the eyes to avoid it. Then the noise became less and less confusing and noisy, starting to turn into intelligible sound.

What a nightmare, what an odd dream, the feeling of strangeness had been strong, but at least it was quickly fading. Good thing the nightmare was over.

Helena could make something out of the voices, but that was to be expected. She would share a spot on a communal room for lodging and she wasn't one for peeking into other's conversations. Feeling finally better, she opened her eyes, making sense of the shapes around as her eyes got used to the unexpected brightness of the room...

"Ah!" she exclaimed as she noticed she was sitting on a bench surrounded by half a dozen strangers, or were they?. Her fear turned into resignation as she recognized both of the scary people that were about to stage a fight from before "So, it was not a dream...?" she lowered her eyes to show her disappointment.

Slathering some fresh butter on a chunk of bread, Jerec popped it into his mouth as he listened to Aria speak. Swallowing he nodded and introduced himself, "I am Jerec, a humble man of modest talents. I came here on a job, the nature of which I am now beginning to understand. It involves finding and protecting an unknown person."

Inclining his head at the slumped form of the girl he went on with a small shrug, "I don't believe the rain to necessarily be a divine omen, there are spells that can conjure a similar phenomenon easily enough. Still, the mystical arts of the divine are not well known to me so let us assume for now that she is the one I am seeking as well; what more did the church tell you about her?"

He had been looking at Aria as he spoke but as the girl came to Jerec glanced at her curiously, even giving a friendly smile. "Well hello there! You had quite an adventure today, do you feel alright?"

The girl did her best to recompose, despite all that had transpired, the new environment was actually quite comfortable. She didn't want to sound ungrateful. "I think I feel better." she ventured a stray look at both Davor and Aria and back to the older man "I feel tired though" she took a piece of bread and ventured taking a small bite of it.

Davor did his best not to look intimidating and failed utterly. He took a piece of bread in his free hand and dunked it in the wine before taking a bite. He looked somewhat puzzled by the idea that Helena is tired, but didn't comment on it. Instead, he ignored all of Jerec's tact and cut straight to what had drawn his attention to her in the first place. "I am Davor: a shaman of the mountain tribes. I have been led here by portents, visions, and whispers of the spirits of my ancestors. I don't really know why though. Do you know why omens lead to you?"

As Helena and the others talk, two of the servers come back with food - grilled fish and octopus, oysters and seabeans, fine cuts of beef and ham, fried potatoes with herbs, salads with vinaigrette, fine pale wines and darker vintages from local vineyards, along with bowls of glaceed fruits and little iced tartlets.  As the dishes are laid out temptingly, you can hear some louder conversation from the common room on the other side of the doors.  The servers move quickly, and as they slide out the doors and shut them behind them, those facing them can catch a glimpse of what's going on outside.  It's quite a bit more crowded than normal, and it seems that the cook has come to the bar to argue about something with the barkeeper, face flushed and angry.

Then the door shuts behind the servers, and the noise is muffled for now.

Urle sat quietly, a cross look on his face, trying to read the group. He wasn't much for tribal superstitions, ancestor worship, or Half-orcs in general. In his experience most claiming to communicate with the spirits were hucksters, and most Half-orcs were violent savages.

The food presented to the table was grand, perhaps too much so for a man on the road. Much of this would not sit well either in a sack along the way, or in his belly on a horse. More so, the platinum coins given was, essentially, charity; the establishment could never produce the amount of food equal to what they received. He pondered on this; he had seen nobles, especially young ones, dramatically overpay for trivial items, either to appear as benevolent, or as a means to show off their wealth to the commoner. Urle began to wonder if this Aria person had any noble ties.

Hearing the rumblings of a disagreement, Urle removed himself from the table to investigate. Assuming the argument was about them, he tried to disarm the situation "Listen, we don't want to cause any trouble. What's going on?"


OOC: 11:09, Today: Urle rolled 9 using 1d20+8 ((1)).

Urle had intended to open the door and ask the nearest server what the impending ruckus was about.  However, with all that was going on, Urle opened the door with more vehemence than he'd intended and his question came out in more of a loud growl in one of those unexpected moments of silence.  His question rings out loud and clear, bringing everything in the Inn to a halt.

One of the cook's helpers looks behind him and yelps, diving for cover, as suddenly a swarm of robed figures come pouring out of the kitchen.  Vaulting the bar, table, and patrons, the flood of robed figures comes barreling towards the door, knives, small axes, and maces in hand.  Some hood flop off as they move, showing faces that are seemingly random combinations of fish and birds, cats and horses, lizards and dogs, with hands that are scaly, feathered, furred, clawed, or taloned in equally random patterns.  They howl and roar in a cacophonous choir as they run straight for Urle!

Pleased that the girl seemed better, Jerec waited for her to regain her strength and composure before asking any further questions. Reclining back into his seat he was making himself more comfortable when suddenly chaos! A swarm of figures poured out of the kitchen, weapons in hand and bestial faces.

Eyes widening in shock Jerec yelled, "Ambush!", before reaching for his staff and starting to rise from his seat...