In the shaman's backyard, not much more than a patch of grass, a small round BBQ sat with the burner's fired up heating the coal that would in turn cook the meat. Two eskies sat on the ground, the smaller one holding more two dozen sausages and the larger keeping a slab of beer at the perfect temperature. Striker waited for Flidais, and potentially even Zilker wondering where all the Thyrsus had gone.