She darts away!

Escape (Unarmed Strike) vs. Athletics DC 12 (Luron's big but apparently he's clumsy). 1d20+4=20. She escapes!

"Let go of me!" With a wriggle, Gilia manages to break free of Luron's grasp. The half-orc bellows in rage as she darts away, heart hammering, and yanks her door open.

"Come back! Bitch! Get back here! I own your ass!" The fury in his voice spurs Gilia on, and she darts heedlessly out the door and into the dirt lane between hovels outside. She flees down the path toward the street just as dawn peeps above the horizon. Her linen shift flaps loosely around her thighs and the cool morning air caresses her bare skin as she runs, but she doesn't care - she just wants to get away from Luron. She can hear his bellows of rage receding as she careens between some of the smaller homes of Mudrin, dashing onto the town's street.

As she enters the street, she slows, chest heaving. Luron wouldn't dare attack me here...I don't think. She swallows. Fuck! I really do have to succeed with those adventurers now... Looking down at herself, she blanches. Oh, gods...but I'm wearing nearly nothing at all...I can't show up looking like this! She looks around, biting her lip. A farmer passing on his way to the fields wolf-whistles her, grinning, and she blushes and attempts to tug her shift lower over her ass...which doesn't accomplish much aside from tightening it against her breasts. Definitely need to find some clothes!

She looks around, taking stock of her options. No shops in town are going to be open yet...and she doesn't have any cash on her, anyway. She doesn't want to go home in case Luron is waiting for her there, so she'll have to come up with something else...maybe there's someone who will help her. Looking up and down the street, she sees candlelight flickering in one ground-floor window. Aha... Hurrying over there, she knocks eagerly.

The door opens a moment later, revealing a dour-looking woman in her mid-30s. The woman has pale skin, a petite frame, and light brown hair pulled back in a severe bun. Her eyes widen incredulously as she takes in the state of undress Gilia is in. "We don't have time for whatever it is you're peddling," she sneers, and starts to close the door.

"W-wait!" Gilia gasps, forestalling her with one hand. "Please, I - I was attacked, and I just...I won't take long, I just need to ask if I could...if I could borrow a skirt or something..."

The woman opens her mouth, but before she can answer, a male voice calls from the next room: "Who the blazes is it, this early?"

"It's that devil-wench," the woman calls back coldly. "The one you were talking about. She's barely dressed."

"Really?" There's a distinct note of interest in the man's voice. "What's she want?"

"A skirt, apparently."

"Well, let her in, eh?" Gilia sees the woman's face twist with anger, then she sighs and stands aside, gesturing Gilia into the home. Gilia hurries inside, eager to be off the street.

"Thank you," she babbles. "Thank you, I - I just need a skirt, then I'll be on my way."

"Don't thank me," the woman sniffs.

"She's right, don't thank her," a male voice from behind Gilia says. She turns to see a tall, rugged-looking man in his early 40s standing in the doorway to the kitchen, taking a bite of an apple. He looks her up and down approvingly. "Just as good as I remember. You put on quite a show last night."

"I...thank you," Gilia mutters.

"Had me so riled up I came home and porked Alissa here in the ass. Twice!" The man laughs, and Alissa glares at Gilia, who wilts slightly. "You take after your mother, you know. Now, she was a fine fuck!" He shakes his head, sighing wistfully. "Looks like your whoring's caught up to you now. You need clothing?"

"Yes, please," Gilia says softly.

"Hmmm." The man reaches out and, casually as weighing a fish at market, hefts one of Gilia's breasts, squeezing it through the fabric of her shift and running his thumb over her nipple. Gilia swallows a gasp - she's stiff and sensitive from the cool air. "Yeah, you'll do, all right."

"What - ?"

"I'm sure Alissa has something that'll fit you, but you'll have to earn it. My son's 21 today - a real man. You'll go wake him up and do whatever he tells you, eh? It's his special day, and I want him to have a good 'un."

Alissa's lips tighten furiously, and Gilia swallows. But she doesn't have much of a choice...slowly, she turns toward the stairs.

"You promise you'll lend me some clothes?" she asks.

"Of course. Just make sure he's fully satisfied, eh?" The man laughs as he gives her ass a little swat. "Go on, get." Gilia swallows and begins to make her way up the stairs. "Now, c'mon, Alissa. I'm hungry for breakfast and hard as a rock as well, so you'll be gettin' breakfast too. Haha!"