The winds in and around the city of Duirt are becoming unpredictable. Swirling breezes twist and turn across the roof tops. The waters of the protected bays are growing choppy. Travelers on the roads coming to town report whispers on the wind seeming to follow them to the city gates.
Flags and Pennants around the city keep changing the way they blow like an army of Mary Poppinses are on their way to the city.