Cang sits comfortably at the head of the table, his newly regal bearing apropos to his position. Horton tries to sit at his right hand but Cang waves him away with a scowl, so the portly blacksmith sheepishly makes his way to a wall and awaits further instruction, cartoonish pout on his lips. The creatures shuffle aimlessly about the round room, gently bumping into objects and machines.
Shyan, Fassn, and Abia take their seats at the table, and Ulxurix sits at the opposite end from Cang, just beside the magic circle. From the dining table, the gang can feel its energies hum and pulse. Abia, in particular, is distracted by it, and steals the occasional glance in its direction. Nothing about it appears to have changed, though — its wispy tendrils of arcane mist rise placidly through the lighthouse.
At a snap of her tattooed fingers, Ulxurix festoons the table with delicacies. Savoury pies, wines from five regions, crunchies, snackables, fresh vegetables and fruit. The guests politely applaud at the display of magic.
Then, an uneasy silence falls upon the room.
After a few moments, Shyan says, “So…”