Then, propped against the forward face of the platform is hung a sign, with two simple words:
"INTENSE PASTA!"
As the Dunesfolk hurriedly set up the stage, a small crowd of curious onlookers began to form. After the sign was hung, a pair of threadbare clothed Miqo'te females darted up the stairs onto the platform. Their bodies lithely moved to unheard music, arms and hips both beckoning more people to take in the spectacle. When the group was assembled to a presumed size, the pair spoke in unison.
"Ladies and gentlemen of Ul'dah! We proudly present! The brashest, baddest chef you'll ever meet! His eyes will take you captive, and his foods will take you away! He doesn't just bend the rules, he sets them aflame! It's time for...."
Suddenly, a male Miqo'te leapt from beneath the table, landing deftly on top. His skin was a caramel tan, his hair platinum blonde and swept back in haphazard and intense spkes. He wore nothing but a half-apron, a pair of garish wrist bracelets and a pair of knee-high boots with more leather straps than needed to keep them set to his calves.
He threw a fist into the air, clutching a ladle and roaring loudly into the sky. The two dancers froze, hands gesturing gleefully to him. From behind him, a pair of pyrotechnic blasts went off, throwing golden sparkles into the air.
"INTEENSE PAAASSTAAAAAAAAA!!"
The Miqo'te leapt down from the table and deftly landed behind it. He twirled the ladle in between his fingers a few times before setting it down as he spoke to the crowd, his arms gesturing wide, a broad, fang-toothed grin spreading across his features.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my open-air taste test! My name is simply Snarl, and I am here to WAKE UP YOUR MOUTH!"
With this, he slammed his fist resolutely on the tabletop. The pair of dancers reared back, faces wearing a look of oversold shock.
"Let me elaborate, friends...for too long, we've assumed dining to be one of two things--a quick bite while we dash to something else entirely, or some stuffy affair relegated to the overdressed heads of state. We-he-he-hell, I don't think that's right! I don't think that's fair! I don't think that eating should be quiet, I think it should be loud! Bold! INTENSE!"
The dancers whispered behind him. "Intense!"
"So that's what this initiative is about! My specialty is pasta and sauces. What's simpler than that, you may ask? Well, these aren't your grandmother's sauces, friends. These feature huge flavor. Bold spices. Intense heat. Unique meats and combinations that nobody has had the guts to attempt! Except, of course, for your buddy Snarl!"
The dancers both applauded giddily.
Snarl aimed his ladle, passing it over the crowd as he spoke to them challengingly. "So! Whom amongst you is willing to enter a new epicurean realm? Who wants to tear open a taste portal? WHO WANTS SOME INTENSE PASTA??"
