<div style="padding: 3px; background-color: #FFFFFF; border: 1px solid #d8d8d8; font-size: 1em;"><div style="text-transform: uppercase; border-bottom: 1px solid #CCCCCC; margin-bottom: 3px; font-size: 0.8em; font-weight: bold; display: block;"><span onclick="if (this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display != '') {  this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display = ''; this.innerHTML = '&lt;b&gt;Spoiler: &lt;/b&gt;&lt;a href=\'#\' onClick=\'return false;\'&gt;hide&lt;/a&gt;'; } else { this.parentNode.parentNode.getElementsByTagName('div')[1].getElementsByTagName('div')[0].style.display = 'none'; this.innerHTML = '&lt;b&gt;Spoiler: &lt;/b&gt;&lt;a href=\'#\' onClick=\'return false;\'&gt;show&lt;/a&gt;'; }"><b>Spoiler: </b><a href="#" onclick="return false;">show</a></span></div><div class="quotecontent"><div style="display: none;">Ooh! Many thanks for the nice reward! Larynn can use any concentration bonus she can get.</div></div></div><br/>For all the chaos around her stall, Larynn was not expecting silence. The ambrosia she had with her was cooked with the hope of attracting one or two wealthy looking customers. Not a crowd of drunken vanara.<br/><br/>"Well. that is.." Larynn started. As the aasimar tried to think of something to say to ease the tension, one of the vanara spoke up.<br/><br/><blockquote class="uncited"><div>"You... have <span style="font-style: italic">ambrosia?</span>" </div></blockquote><br/><br/>After that, all hope of calm was destroyed, as members of the troop fought with each other to to get their order in first. As Larynn tried to make heads or tails of what each one was sayng, one unwanted voice made itself heard.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-size: 50%; line-height: 116%;">~YOU  FUCKED U~P!~</span></span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">~Not now, Vanika!~</span>Larynn thought back. Eager to get her personal pest off of her mind, she turned back to the table she used to prepare the food. She pointed a wide metal pot with a secured lid and whispers, "Move onto table, then stop.".<br/><br/>As her unseen servants obeyed her command, she turned her attention back to her customers. "D-Due to demand, I have to limit ambrosia orders to one serving per person! The price is ten gold per serving!" As she waited for the troop's response, she noticed one of the them talking to a gaurd.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Oh dear..."</span>