Feasthaven!!

Father Tulfgyr rises from the mess of bodies on the floor like a lone survivor "by my beard" he gasps in amazement as the deeds of last night come back to him in a swirl of emotion. Father Tulfgyr then looking down at his beard Exclaims "My beard!" seeing that he has a serious case of the bed beard. Father Tulfgyr quickly crawls over the bodies into a corner and begins his morning regime of one thousand brush strokes and an ancient braiding technique taught to him by father and his father before him etc... all the while muttering "Ug that magnificent man". the soothing rhythm of the strokes draws Tulfgyr into the memories of the past as he begins to relive the night before.

A few minutes after Ug enters the kitchen, Zenithral stands and begins stepping towards the door. "This has been truly enlightening, engaging, and all, but I believe I must be..." He trails off as the first scent of Ug's cooking reaches him.

"...staying." He finishes, pulling up a chair. "Perhaps I have underestimated this 'fish pond.' Hrothgar has need of us tomorrow, so now I've nothing to worry about tonight!"

Through the night, Zenithral makes friends with as many people as he can, his negative demeanor from earlier seeming to have evaporated. Stacking metal mugs on a table, he stands across the room and tries to peg the top one with an arrow, lets people make bets, and gives a few people a scare with some stray shots later in the night.

As Ug lay sprawled face down across the entire bar top he continues to relive his favorite part of the feast, standing atop a table with head in the rafters, leading a chorus of dwarves in a new boisterous drinking verse,

"If only her ale could fill every mug,
"All HAIL, all HAIL,
"to the mother of Ug!"

Maverick opts to stay on counters and table tops of the tavern as it becomes increasingly more crowded. Big folk gatherings have a nasty habit of not seeing small folk and a party like this deserves to be enjoyed instead of constantly dodging a swarm of legs. Maverick spends the night telling tales of his upbringing in the underdark to curious villagers who are fascinated and entranced with the bazaar world below them. The svirfneblin enjoys the villagers company and Ugs incredible cooking untill the gnome eventually falls into a food imduced coma for the night

Zenithral dines, but doesn't drink all that much. Regardless of the friends he makes, he goes to the Snowdrift Inn for the night. Assuming the workers at the Snowdrift Inn didn't make their way here too, that is.

Taverns with plenty of good food and happy people are the best places for Alalla to ply another of her trades: performing! She used the dart board for trick throws with her hand axes, performed complicated but beautiful drills with her glaive (bladeless, to prevent accidents in the tight quarters), and challenged other patrons to good-natured duels, defeating them all with techniques frillier and more interesting than strictly necessary. It was hard for those she trounced to a upset about it, when the gold they lost to her was used to buy rounds for her onlookers more often than not. Al left the bar earlier than most- when your trade is combat you have to stay rested and keen- but she still had plenty of time that night to eat her weight in Ug's glorious family recipes, put a few extra coins in her pocket,and earn some goodwill in the town.