A Hunter's Plea

Meanwhile, the balding butcher danced over to the goblin's table with an eager smile. He kept his voice down, asking, "And how would you like to pay for all those random meals?" 

"Use my share of the meat to fill the orders," Rizz replied without wavering, "and take twenty portions of sirloin steak as payment." 

"It's always a pleasure!" 

As the old boarkin patted the goblin's back, he waved to his youngest daughter. "Hey! Where's the service? Come on, girl." 

"I'll take care of them, Pa," Morlinda called out. She rushed back into the dining hall with a few plates to deliver. 

"Lan, don't we need to talk about something?" 

Morticia hooked her husband's arm and dragged him away. She left behind a trail of muffled whispers. It wasn't clear enough for Rizz and his table to hear clearly, but it wasn't too hard to pick up her worried tone.

However, Lanbor didn't seem to get the memo.