It was a complete smorgasbord of individuals from all over the continent, tall figures overshadowing Lak Lok’s diminutive kobold size with the exception of the otter. Lak Lok inwardly cursed whatever gods were responsible for making a small percentage of races on the continent vertically challenged. He nearly scraped his head against the bony pelvis of the goliath, moving through the crowded room and making sure that he didn’t get stamped on in the process.

His scaled skin began to feel stiff as he approached the genasi, the air around her warm and dry as bone. The large cauldron roped on his back jangled back and forth as he maneuvered and slipped in between the legs of people, trying to find a space where he could rest and sit down. All of these different ingredients together would make a unique recipe indeed….or a complete disaster. Who was he to question Garakkg’s methods?  
 He couldn’t help but notice that the moon elf and the fire demon were cuddling together like long lost lovers. It was hard to see the genasi’s expression from his height but it looked as if she was glowing red by the cheeks in embarrassment. Ah, the wonders of inter species relationships. He held his tongue at asking whether or not he could have officiate their wedding under Garrakg’s domain. 

Temple first, Lak Lok. Temple first. 

An odd aroma of burning pipeweed was coursing through the air, though. Lak Lok’s tongue flickered out, tasting the smoky fumes of burnt fruit and smooth notes. He slowly turned around to see an old man walk into the room, pipe in hand. This must be the so called A.G. Vein pulsing in his head, Lak Lok’s hand wavered towards his paring knife, pausing as the old man began to recount his story. Lak Lok's raging temper at the geezer's chosen venue simmered down to a partial boil when he heard about his dead wife. 

So, it did have something to do with all the missing people in Forsaken. Even though Nowyre Crossroads was miles away from Forsaken, it had still affected the operations of the Burgundy. Lak Lok's vein pulsed as he remembered the frustration he had when he received news of his new centaur sous chef having been found missing in his homestead. Whoever was responsible would pay for that. 

Finally fed up with being one of the shortest of the group, he crawled on top of a chair to make himself more visible to his client. Standing on top of the seat, wavering slightly as the chair struggled to hold his weight, he spoke. 

“ In spite of your startling lack of culinary expertise and the horrendous quality of this establishment menu…” Lak Lok took a deep breath, controlling himself from pulling his steak knife out and gutting Abraham Garrick to death. “....Garrakg has pointed me to you, Mr Garrick. I shall see to it that I shall exact Garrakg’s vengeance on the scum who did this to your betrothed and sentence them to the bowels of the deep fryer. You have my word. ”