”Help! Help!” The cries of the elderly dwarven woman could be heard around the market of the Weyrd. "I've lost them!"
It wasn't exactly clear what had been lost, until the scrabbling of talons could be heard on the cobblestone floor. A cluck and a fuzzy Frizzle reared her head, with a large "1" on a sheet of paper laying on her back, tied to her with a pretty loose piece of string, just sort of chilling besides the woman. "Please help me find them!"
George's drums would beat, though it seemed almost tentative. The words were clear.
Missing powlets, help find them. Though it wasn't like the powlets were trying to be discreet. Random shrieking throughout the market would make things pretty easy.
And sometimes, well... if you lived on Planet, sometimes you tripped over adventure completely by accident.
Case in point: Zenith was already in the marketplace when a certain dwarf’s hue and cry went up. Cobalt had mentioned needing adamantine for self-repair, and if anywhere was going to have it, the marketplace would. He’d struck out at the first few stalls, but there were plenty more left to sift through. He’d just approached another- this one manned by a being more octopus than humanoid- when the clamor started.
And to be perfectly honest? He very briefly considered just walking away. He really did have a job to do here, one that was important to Cobalt’s health and safety. No one could blame him for simply not inserting himself into the situation.
No one except himself, at any rate, and Zee had long ago accepted that his need to help people ran as deep as his flier coding did.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” He told the stall’s owner, jabbing a thumb towards the source of the racket steadily turning the marketplace into chaos. “Just wanna go see what all that’s about.”
The vendor saw him off with a cheery salute (two of them, actually- advantages of having four arms) and off Zee went, dodging between startled market-goers towards the shouting dwarf. He got all of halfway there before George’s message clarified the situation. Apparently there were powlets missing, which explained both the volume and the urgency of the situation.
Powlets might’ve been fancy chickens, but at heart they were still just chickens. Chickens weren’t exactly known for their intellect. Best to find the poor darlings before they ended up stuck in barrels or something equally absurd.
Sighing, Zee diverted again, this time angling towards the the various stalls that sold grain and flour. If he were a powlet on the lam, he’d look for someplace with food and shelter to hide in. Market stalls happened to provide precisely that.
Geoff paused, half-hunched over the Powlet he was about to smack over the head with a rolled up newspaper, his irritated confidence hesitating in the light of information that this noisy nuisance may actually be someone's pet.
Ryvri had been shopping for some necessities when she happened upon the distraught dwarf. Given her fond memories of the Mithril Hall dwarves and how kindly they'd treated her once they'd become accustomed to her the drow didn't hesitate to start looking for the missing Powlets. Given the numbered avian next to her what exactly a 'Powlet' was needn't be asked.
Taking off at a jog Halrae tried her level best to think like a chicken. (There was something she'd never thought she'd try to do ever!)
"What do chickens need? Food, water, shelter, same as any other creature." Spying a clothier stall[/i] she headed there first. Was that a Powlet feather she spied among the fabrics or an adornment that had just happened to maybe come from one?