Thread:Faenor of the Silver Laurel/@comment-26084195-20161228202011/@comment-26444332-20161230081142

The Rakshasa laughs harshly.

'No, you shall be well-fed. Even my kind can enjoy a meal prepared by an Aetanii.'

So saying, they lead the three ambassadors through the ship to a middling-sized room. Unlike most of the other rooms, this one has a wooden floor, and thick soft beanbag-like cushions are around a low wooden table. The Aetanii seat themselves on them, gesturing for them to do the same.

Once they do so, steaming wooden bowls of what appears to be rice and some form of seasoned meat are served. The taste is like lamb, though, and rather good lamb at that.

The Aetanii pick up their utensils, gesturing for the Alliance emissaries to do the same. All that has been provided is a wooden instrument, with two flat prongs at one end. However, its use quickly becomes apparent from observation of the Aetanii gesturing: it is some sort of fork.

The Rakshasa has also been provided a seat at the table, and he gestures to the Aetanii, who proceed to clap their hands together twice before murmuring something, and then looking expectantly at the three.

'They wish for you to give thanks to the hands that prepared the meal,' the Rakshasa explains, after having followed the same procedure as the Aetanii. 'Simply emulate the actions of your host.'