cenaculum convivae



"...And she found that all she had in the sack was a parsnip and two apples!"

Uproarious laughter fills the packed dining hall as the thin man standing on the table finishes his tale. The guests are banging their tankards on the tressle tables and baying for more.

Hasta Quate looks around the hall, his face a mixture of shy wonder and mischief. He takes a swig of wine from the goblet he holds, brushes the few stray drops of liquid off his green tunic, then holds up his hands for quiet.

"Why don't we let our new arrival choose the subject of the next tale?"



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