Sitting down

Immediately after responding to Darvin and attempting to attend to the niceties of halfing table manners, Beranhond, though not hungry, felt the need to respond to the politeness of the Gnome's gesture. Taking a plate he helped himself to a sparse amount of food, and began to eat.
What a strange group this is and what strange hosts we are as well. Most curious what the elf in the corner is doing.

Perception:
Roll(1d20)+7:
19,+7
Total:26

He noticed a small twitch from the elf's body, possible a slight movement, but Beranhond could say nothing more. At least he knew that he was alive, probably wondering where he was and what was going on.

Taste check: (take that Dan!)
Roll(1d20)+7:
20,+7
Total:27

The food was incredibly flavorful, much more intense and rich than the travel rations he had been surviving on since fleeing the Citadel of Torm. On the long voyage over the sea of Fallen Stars the crew offered him stale bread and salted pork and beef. Fortunately, he quickly learned the create food spell and would use it late at night in the dark part of the hold. He did not often eat meat today, due to its price, but before joining the order of Torm he had spent much of his life raising Pigs and Goats on his parents farm outside of Caltunt. In between bits of conversations with the other, Beranhond continued to try different selections of the food. Every now and then he would set it down by the floor for Tigrisclawu to have a snack.
"What are we doing here?" Tigrisclawu asked between bites.
"Shh, be patient, we shall find out soon enough."