Dinner Is Served

[Jim Roberts]

[Feb 6 early evening – The Godcarvers]

> “I believe we will remain at the Fort overnight,” Ben mused aloud.
> “There are some notes I need to dictate to Sister Erin.”

Dinner itself was extraordinary. Not quite enough to put those
establishments blessed with the coveted Valyan Blessing of a “Michelin
Star” at risk, perhaps, but enough to have kept them looking over their
shoulders at the up and coming competition. Two elements made the meal
particularly special. The first was the selection. Rather than an
opulent multicourse banquet served at royal tables throughout the
continent, “Chef Tramma’s” repast consisted of several individual
dishes, each tailored for the recipient. Tramma had intended to provide
“something special” to each of her guests… and she delivered.

For Laquendi, "Something Special" was a dish with loads of mushrooms.
For Laurelin, it was Tramma’s signature “chocolate clue souffle”, while
for Finfin, a Telidorian rice dish starting with the letter “P”.
Similarly, Ben received a kyrene staple, heavy with that region’s
signature coffee, and of course, lots of Bon Bons, while Sister Erin was
able to enjoy a signature dish from her own homeland. In fact, every
dish had been individually crafted to appeal to the recipient.

Just as striking as the food was the individualised service. Tramma made
a point of delivering each guest’s dish personally. And Tramma being
Tramma, each presentation was laced with its own healthy dose of comedic
drama. The silver haired bard had exchanged her chef’s outfit for a
considerably more scanty and frilly affair that Mithi had earlier
described to him as a “Yelti Maid’s” outfit, complete with stockings and
lacework. And as a physical performer, Tramma used both her finely
trained body and costume to best effect.

For Ben, Tramma was quite the proper prim serving woman, showing just
enough to confirm that she really was a woman and not an underage girl,
but no more than was proper, and certainly not enough to raise any
eyebrows. The Abbot was clearly enchanted with the meal. Ben
complemented Tramma on the fine dishes she prepared, and told her
fondly, “that was second only to my mother's cooking!” He grinned, and
asked primly, “please, ma’am? Might I have some more?”

To the delight of all her friends, Tramma was left speechless and
blushing by the compliment. Lomi in particular found that highly
amusing, she had always thought her vivacious friend utterly incapable
of embarrassment, but resolved that now was NOT the time to tease her
about that. “Of COURSE, your Grace,” the bard told him happily. “You
DID, after all, clean your plate.” She carefully dished out another
helping, taking care to arrange the food for a perfect presentation that
was just as pleasing to the eye as it was to the palate. Ben made a
point of thanking her graciously for the second helping, and she smiled
fondly at his obvious enjoyment of the meal.

To Laquendi, Tramma was a friend, sharing a conspiratorial wink to let
her fellow silver hair know that Laquendi, too, was very much “in” on
the broader joke being played on everyone.

The presentation she gave for Finfin, with Mithi’s help, was
considerably different. By no accident did Tramma adjust the angles of
her legs, cleavage, and all parts in between to allow the elf to see
considerably more. Not everything, of course; Tramma’s performance was,
above all, a class act. But it did highlight the relatively little that
was still concealed. And better, from Tramma’s point of view, was that
she knew that Finfin, like all of the Away Team’s wizards, had a genius
level intellect, well honed for detailed memorization. His memories,
Tramma knew, could quite easily fill in the blanks, and she silently
signalled how much she appreciated his honest and open while tasteful
admiration of what he was being invited to enjoy.

Those able to interpret the unspoken layers within layers of personal
interaction might have been able to spot an undercurrent behind the
tasteful exhibition and appreciation. Tramma was, to those able to read
these signals, making it clear that not only did she appreciate the
elf’s admiration, but that she was also making it clear that the vision
before him was in no way a tease. Rather, it was a promise of the sights
– and more – that he could look forward to enjoying at some point in the
not too distant future. A message that was certainly received by
“waitress Mithi” standing at Finfin’s back, and her giggle showed that
in no way was she at all put out by the message being sent to her boyfriend.

Rather curiously, at one level the performance Tramma extended to Sister
Erin was remarkably similar to what the bard had delivered to Finfin.
Only the hypothetical observer able to interpret deeper nuances could
have seen that the subtext here was entirely different. Now, the bard’s
highlighting the little that was still concealed was not a promise of
future fun. In Sister Erin’s case, instead Tramma’s performance was a
slightly wistful, and slightly self mocking regret that the two of them
had not met before Erin had taken up The Cloth and had sworn her Vow of
Celibacy. And rather than being at all shocked by the message, Sister
Erin raised her waterglass in a silent toast to What Might Have Been.

And no business at all was discussed during this fine meal. To have done
so would have degraded the excellent repast. Instead, all simply
concentrated on the meal, and friendly conversation.

Only after dinner when a selection of drinks were offered was business
once again on the agenda. And perhaps not at all surprising, few had any
interest in the meagre selections of harder liquors Tramma had sourced.
For a variety of reasons, most choose coffee or other stimulating
beverages. Some out of a preference to avoid intoxicants, and others
fully aware that they had many hours before them that night, and that
they did not want alcohol or its aftereffects slowing them down.

Referring to his stacks of previous notes, Finfin drew up a cleaner copy
of his suggested “Teleportation Plan” for tomorrow… his own starting at
first light, and Laquendi’s whenever Lomi was able to bring the kobold
Beekin into the camp – or when her Doctor’s Orders banning Teleportation
expired, whichever happened last.

“A very well thought out plan Captain,” Abbot Kenobi said approvingly.

“What are the contingency plans for emergency movement?” asked Laquendi.
“We have more than our share of ‘Need Help NOW’ beacons out in the
tribes as well as a group left near the Godcarvers *and* the Upwinders
that could need a rapid reaction force to be present immediately?”

High Priestess Laurelin, however, had a quite pertinent question. “Is
there something specific that I can do to help out?” Do you think if i
went to one of the cities for spells, or a few days of teleport
coordinates it would leave us too weakened for the inevitable counter
strike against us?”

“All would be useful,” Finfin mused. “But in addition to the travelling
wizards keeping an extra Teleport available in case an early return is
needed, keeping some of our capacity here would indeed be helpful.”
Quietly, he added, “You by yourself would be a MOST considerable
responding force if the SJE get frisky.”

“You might try chatting with the Upwinder wizards about spell trades,”
Tramma put in from where she was saucily bending over to refill
someone’s drink and ‘innocently’ giving Finfin a mildly titillating
view. “Beekin said a lot of them are really eager to play ‘let’s make a
deal’ with Tall People wizards.” She looked up coyly, and said,
“something about wanting to get the chance to trade spells with you
before the SJE wipe us out, cuz sometimes the spellbooks get all
‘burnimalated’ or grabbed by SJE wizards before any Upwinder operatives
can get their hands on them.”

“I was thinking similarly,” the elven priestess replied with a small smile.

“I get the feeling these kobolds have been watching you men(!) in
action,” Jeyshann purred in delight, archly looking pointedly toward the
Abbot and Finfin.

“Confidence is low,” Lomi sighed gustily. “I’m too young to die. Oh
well, pass over more of that cheesecake, the condemned girl wants to
continue enjoying her last meal.”

“Alas I have a feeling our last meal will be a Heroes’ Feast,” Laurelin
quipped.