Pylia nods as she goes to gear up. Outside the Silver Stag was still empty, though there were a few people out. A masked elf was setting up chairs while a strange looking elf with scales was in the kitchen, warming up ovens and stoves. Shortfang was sitting on a stool by the bar sipping some orange juice when he spots you and waves. Behind the bar, a large muscular orc wearing a chef’s hat and apron was writing something down.

“Roight, so’z we gots us a twin trio boss custom onna raft, four-by-four, animal-style, extra tiles wifa shimmy an squeeze, light grease, crying, burnin, and drownin.” The orc tore the sheet off and handed it to the elf in the kitchen as he wrote down another order. “As fee da udda one, ye wants a quad smash, sprinklin of snow mountain, smoked paprika, and mini greens, be-cheesed howuda, ta go, ye?” Shortfang just slid five gold coins forward and smiles as if he’s pretending to know what the or just said. “Yeah!”

The orc tore the order off and handed it away once more before glancing up at you. “Howdy! Welcome to da Surf-n-Turf Sea Cow, wot can Aye get fer ya? I can make but anything cept da booze, yer wanna see me wife get dat.”