A bored-looking black bat behind a desk looks up from polishing her nails, and quickly adjusts the cowl of her hood (which has a couple of large holes in the top to make room for her characteristically large ears). She makes a smacking noise as she chews some gum, then says, "All right … how many worshippers in your party? And are you here for the buffet?"

Wynona, a white bat in sky-blue robes, leads a group of apprentices of the Sphere of Earth up to the desk. She turns about, and counts heads: a white-and-gold Exile by the name of Envoy, a Cervani doe by the name of Summer Forrest, a Lapi by the name of Spring-Meadow, and a Jupani by the name of Rockjaw. "Five," she answers. "Are we in time for the evening's entertain – er, I mean, sacrifice?"

"Certainly," says the cowled black bat receptionist. "Now, if you'll just put on your ceremonial robes," the bat instructs, pointing to some very cheap-looking cowls and tabards that have food stains here and there and the glowering image of a horned cat's head, "I'll show you to your table."

Envoy finds a "robe" that accommodates wings, and tries it on. Looking over the stains, she asks, "Do these double as the menus?"

The black bat just gives Envoy this dull look, then leads the group through a stone (or, actually, it's fake – built up with plaster) archway fashioned in the shape of a wicked-looking face of (you guessed it) a Kattha with horns. Beyond this archway is the main area, and the group is led up to the middle tier, a floor area that makes its way around the stage in a horseshoe shape, but with a couple of levels at lower elevations, closer to the stage. "Booth or table?" asks the black bat. "Buffet or dinner?"

Wynona looks to Envoy and the others. "How hungry are you feeling?"

Rockjaw just smiles.

Wynona hmms. "Buffet."

The Exile nods her agreement. "I like whatever has the most choices. Is there something close to the stage?"

"Certainly," says the black bat, "though you'll have to go past a few tables to get back up to the buffet at this level." She points off to the right side of the stage, where the "buffet" looks like a bunch of sacrificial alters in an alcove, laden with "burnt offerings" … and salads for the vegetarians.

She then shows the group down to a table at the bottom tier, right up against the stage. It looks like her worship, Zsofi, is not on stage yet.

"Does Zsofi sing while we eat?" Envoy asks Wynona in a whisper, and looks around for bloodstains or any other of the usual indicators of what type of entertainment to expect.

Wynona doesn't answer at first, but pulls out a chair for Envoy around the table, as the black bat sets down menus in front of the five place settings, leaving a sixth chair unused.

The black bat asks, "Can I get you anything to drink?"

Wynona leans over to whisper to Envoy, "You'll see. She doesn't sing. It's … hard to describe, really."

Envoy nods, then looks at her menu to see what drinks are available.

What presumably are the alcoholic drinks have fairly morbid sounding names, generally with the word "blood" in there somewhere. The others at the table answer with "Water," "Water for me, too. Do you have ice?" "Tea," and "Fruit juice?" The last order is Wynona's, of course.

"I'll have fruit juice too," Envoy tells the waitress (acolyte?), after being thoroughly confused by the drink listing on the menu.

The black bat nods. "Your slave will be at the table shortly with your drinks. You can go ahead and go to the sacrificial table – that is, the buffet – and get yourself plates. Don't forget – if you go back to the buffet for seconds, leave your plate on the table, and your slave will pick it up. You can get a clean plate at the buffet again." And with that, she leaves.

Rockjaw is the first off from the table, nearly tripping over the hem of his cultist's costume as he heads for the buffet.

Envoy blinks at the little speech. "Does she mean real slaves?" she asks as she gets up to follow the Jupani.

Wynona gets up, too. "Well, sometimes, yes, but it's just what they call the server."

"I didn't think a restaurant could afford real slaves," Envoy notes, as she makes her way to the buffet line. "This place must be very popular."

Given the line that Envoy and the others have to wait through, it looks like it's reasonably popular … though Envoy hasn't seen any honest-to-goodness Savanite slaves just yet. (Though it's hard to tell if there might be slaves of any other species, or if the "slave" getup is just part of the costume for the servers.)

The buffet is nothing terribly extravagant. There's a good deal of "burnt offering" meat – cheap cuts of Bromthen, Rughrat, and "mystery meat" – and the usual salads and side dishes. Standard restaurant fare, Rephidim-style, in an exotic environment.

But then, the attraction here is the setting, not the food. (Well, for some people, anyway. Rockjaw is piling his plate up high.)

Envoy follows next, and chooses a small portion of each item, then watches to see what her other companions select. Aside from Fenter, she's never really seen how Apprentices eat when they dine out.

Wynona is loading up on fruits. Even though there are a number of insectoid selections, it seems that, given a choice in the matter, she still prefers fruit. Rockjaw just likes meat, meat, and more meat. No bread, no potatoes, definitely no salad – just meat, and plenty of it. Summer and Spring-Meadow are far more predictable, going for lettuce, cabbage, and other vegetables.

The Exile doesn't remember getting much fruit while she was in Temple custody, and mentions this to Wynona. "I probably should have brought you some fruit instead of just bugs and candy when I visited."

Wynona just smiles. "Those bugs were delicious! Besides, I need my protein, right?"

Rockjaw looks as if he wants to get more … but then some ominous music starts playing through the grand hall. "Uh oh!" he barks. "Going to miss the show… " He carefully balances his overloaded plate and makes his way back to the table, careful not to trip on his ceremonial robes.

Envoy hurries back to her seat at the table, and grins in anticipation. She's never been entertained while eating before. Not intentionally, anyway.

Wynona follows soon after Envoy, though it seems like Summer and Spring-Meadow must be taking their time back at the buffet. The flames on the skull-shaped torch-sconces ringing the stage flare up, and jets of steam rise from holes around the perimeter.

A booming voice announces, "Tremble mortals, for your goddess, Zsofi, Destroyer of Worlds, has come! Pay homage to the mighty Zsofi … or suffer her wrath!" And then the voice breaks into maniacal laughter.

"Destroyer of Worlds?" Envoy whispers, looking around for the source of the voice.

The source of the voice must be behind some sort of facade. He definitely isn't standing out in the open. Just then, there is a great billowing of smoke up on the stage … and it sweeps outward. Wynona immediately breaks into a sneezing fit. "Oh! *WACHOO* I forgot! *WACHOO* This is why I sit *WACHOO* in back! *WACHOO!*"

The Aeolun quickly hands Wynona her napkin. "Cover your nose… "

Wynona takes the napkin, and the smoke rushes past. Rockjaw starts howling. Several of the customers start chanting, "Zso-FI! Zso-FI! Zso-FI! Zso-FI!" in time with the beating drums.

A demonic silhouette forms amidst the smoke up on the stage … a black Kattha with hooves that kick up sparks of blue whenever they move, and eyes that gleam balefully underneath wickedly curved horns … and as outlandish a costume as has ever been seen for a Destroyer of Worlds.

Envoy oos, and comments, "Nice stage effects." She refrains from joining the chanting though.

The smoke slowly clears, revealing the form of Zsofi. She gloats, looking quite pleased with herself.

Nibbling on some meat, Envoy watches the other Exile with wide eyes… and wonders who made that costume for her.

Zsofi yowls, "You may all bow to Zsofi! Give tribute to Zsofi! Those who do not will be gnashing and weeping and clawing their eyes out and offering them up to Zsofi on toothpicks as hors d'eouvres in hopes of being spared from Zsofi's wrath!"

A few of the customers get into it, waving their hands and "bowing" to Zsofi. A few of them are laughing, but the noise is mostly lost in all the drumming and the weird music.

Envoy blinks, and bows her head while watching to see what Wynona does. She also keeps a watch for slaves passing out toothpicks, just in case.

Wynona makes an "Ewgh" noise, sticking out her tongue at the unpleasant image.

Across the room, a poodle in cultist robes steps up, holding a glass. "A toast to Zsofi!" Others at the table go, "Hear, hear!"

Zsofi crosses her arms, looking pleased. "Yes, you may make toasts to Zsofi!"

"The most amazing, inscrutable, uniquely puzzling… " begins the poodle, as he makes his toast, Zsofi smiling and nodding, eyes closed contentedly as she listens to the whole thing.

Picking up her glass, Envoy begins to get into the game, but wonders if Zsofi realizes everyone is just pretending…

"… self-absorbed, pompous, pretentious, self-deluded… " the poodle continues. A few of the "slaves" make stage-gasps.

Zsofi keeps nodding for a bit, but then she frowns, as if she's catching on. She opens one eye, glaring balefully at the poodle.

"Is this part of the show?" Envoy whispers to Wynona.

Wynona says, "Uh oh. It's him. Uhm … don't watch, if you've got a weak stomach."

The poodle continues on in this vein, while quite a few appear to be rising on Zsofi's forehead. "You … silence! Zsofi kill you!"

The poodle just laughs. "Oh! And what is Zsofi going to do to me, huh?" He looks around, grinning at his companions.

Zsofi simmers, then stands with clenched fists, shouting, "Zsofi cause your entrails to boil, until they rise, steaming, out of your mouth and nostrils, then twist about, strangling you with your own insides, until your eyes pop out and melt, running down your face, as your fur burns away from your carcass and your flesh sloughs away from your bones, which in turn shall crumble into dust and blow away on the four winds!"

Wynona says, "Ewgh," and covers her eyes.

Envoy watches with keen interest now!

Rockjaw just chews on his food, watching the poodle intently.

The poodle keeps laughing, but then his eyes go wide, as his laughter takes on a higher pitch. His companions don't seem to be noticing him at all, instead staring intently at their table. They have several candles set out on the table, it seems, and the lighting effect on the poodle is fairly strange.

Basically … well … what Zsofi said. It's not a pretty picture.

The Aeolun claps and laughs at the spectacle! "Wow, you can't see that in the Bazaar!"

Wynona just groans. "Illusionists… "

Zsofi looks almost surprised for a moment, then a smug smile washes across her face. "Zsofi has spoken!"

Zsofi proclaims, "You may now grovel before Zsofi! The one who grovels the most shall win special treat from Zsofi!"

Rockjaw, meanwhile, keeps chowing down on his meat, not skipping a beat.

Envoy wonders if the spell is made on the spot, or if the mages somehow made one that would respond to Zsofi's voice. On hearing about a treat, she calls out, "Oh mighty Zsofi, whose dark radiance blinds the thousand eyes of a greater shoggoth, I am not worthy to be breathed upon by your divine breath, which would in any case cause me to whither and petrify as my flesh turned into … uh… into stale Bromthen jerky, such that even the maggots would shun me! I beg your blessing!"

A tabby Khatta casts a glance in Envoy's direction, then makes a smug grin, as he hurls himself down on an open spot before the stage, throwing himself on his knees and bowing down, raising and lowering his hands, "Oh, glorious Zsofi, Destroyer of Worlds, whose magnificent name even whispered is enough to cause the multitudes to cry out for mercy and dash themselves with sharp rocks rather than to face your wrath, the one whose hooves are too holy to be touched, lest one be blasted into infernal fires for even thinking of such a thing! Oh, most wondrous deity, immortal and eternal, all knowing and all powerful, I am but a squibbit before you! I beseech you for your blessing on one so unworthy as I!"

Wynona murmurs to Envoy, "Looks like the contest is on!"

Zsofi, of course, looks quite pleased at all the groveling. A few other patrons try making some groveling attempts, but they aren't nearly as impressive (or verbose) as Envoy's or the tabby's.

Envoy hmms, looking at the Khatta's performance, and leaves her chair to stand before the stage. Spreading her arms and wings, she says, "Choose me, oh goddess, and I shall sing your praises from the highest towers, so that all will know the glory of serving you!" And, with both of her voices (one used to add an extra echoing effect), she cries out, "ALL HAIL ZSOFI, WHOM EVEN THE ANGELS MUST BOW DOWN TOO!" She finishes by bowing down humbly, letting her cowl slide back to let her golden mane add better effect to the image of an "angel".

The tabby sticks out his tongue in distaste with a "no fair!" expression on his face. He seems to have used up his groveling repertoire already.

A few more pathetic attempts at groveling are made … but none match Envoy for visual presentation, verbosity or general weirdness. Zsofi points at Envoy and proclaims, "You, unworthy, pitiful crawling worm, one who I should squash under my sparking hooves, have nonetheless pleased Zsofi with your crying and squirming. So you shall be blessed, and your life shall be spared!"

There are a few horn blares and loud drumming, as Zsofi steps back. "Zsofi shall leave now!" Smoke begins to rise from the stage again.

Wynona hurriedly covers her face with a napkin.

Envoy is careful to wait for Zsofi to leave before getting up.

It looks like Zsofi has vanished, as the smoke clears.

Wynona applauds! "Bravo! Bravo! You are an excellent groveler, Envoy!"

The Aeolun gets up and returns to her seat, taking a refreshing drink of her juice. "Thank you, Wynona. I've been practicing, you know." She grins brightly to the Eeee.

A few "slaves" come up to Envoy, with a blood red cowl and tabard. A Khatta in a fake beard walks up. "I am the high priest of Zsofi, and I proclaim you an Initiate into the Cult of Zsofi! And as an added bonus … your dinner tonight is free!"

Wynona cheers!

Rockjaw just keeps gobbling down his food.

Envoy bows to the high priest, then realizes Wynona was going to treat for the dinner anyway. Oh well…

The ill-fitting tabard and cowl are stuck on Envoy, right over top her other attire. The priest babbles some arcane-sounding gibberish … which Envoy, being an apprentice, can recognize as true gibberish (or it's a pretty fair bet, anyway).

The Exile acts properly honored, nodding whenever there's a pause in the spiel.

At last, the priest finishes, and the slaves escort Envoy back to her table. The priest "blesses" everyone at the table, then walks off, adjusting his fake beard again.

Wynona sips at her fruit drink, smirking.

Summer and Spring-Meadow finally arrive at the table, chattering amongst themselves. Summer suddenly notices Envoy. "Oh! How did you get a red robe?"

"I made a fool of myself," Envoy explains with a grin. "I wonder how they do the sacrifices? I bet Zsofi does all this for free, too."