Matthias would softly chuckle if he were hear the comment by one of the men passing through the door, looking to Rasp to see if he heard it.

Faloniir will turn to Eldeth and Barkus, "Guess what!? I'm going to be racing in the dinosaur race later today! Can you believe it? To even watch such an event is a dream come true, but this? This is heaven. I was thinking maybe you two could help me decide upon a costume for Gorumi and I. Would painted flames along her flank be too garish? Not enough? What about for me? I can't ride in these rags, no, I must look my best! I was thinking a form fitting body suit for aerodynamics of course, but what color? Forest green? Olive Green? And what should I wear on my head? I envision a fearsome mask with which to scare the competition..."

Edrik nods to Grandfather Zitembe. "Of course.  We shall return tomorrow then.  If you can grant us any help we would appreciate it greatly."  He then pauses a moment, "By the way, who were those three men that were leaving as we came in?  They seemed to be trouble."

"Scare the competition?" Eldeth's eyes go wide. "If you scare the other dinosaurs and they begin to run amok, that could be bad. I don't think you can win the race if it gets cancelled."

Faloniir will chuckle at Eldeth, "Not the other dinosaurs, the other riders dear. Something intimidating yet mysterious."

In the Temple of Savras...

Grandfather Zitembe answers Edrik concisely. "Zhentarim*. I cannot help them."

* All party members would have some familiarity with the Zhentarim  (or Black Network), a shadow network of mercenaries that operate throughout the Sword Coast

"Oh fun." Matthias would smile at the sound of the Zhentarim, familiar with their antics.  "Well, until we wait for tomorrow, how about we visit The Monkey's Fist?  You have any recommendations for food and drink there, Grandfather Zitembe?"

Eldeth relaxes. "Oh, of course. Well, so long as it doesn't scare the mounts, then. Well then, it seems we have a little time for finding you an outfit, tropical clothing for ourselves, and possibly some asking around for information or any rumors that might be related to our cause."

Rasp's gaze followed the Zhentarim agents as they left. At one point, the correlation between Rasp's inability to properly speak and the derogative 'parrot' may have caused the words to sting, but by now, Rasp has grown desensitized to such jabs. Only someone watching keenly would notice the Kenku's countenance sour. The Zhentarim could potentially be an interesting resource Rasp planned to investigate - while Rasp understood his duties often crossed directions with the Zhentarim's goals, Rasp had nothing against utilizing the organization if it brought him closer to his goal. 

The Kenku lowered his head in respect. "You have my thanks, Grandfather Zitembe." The Kenku stood - sensing the conversation coming to a close, Rasp gathered his gear from the ground. "If I may ask - have your guides consulted you of the Zhentarim's location? I am comfortable with doing what is needed to ensure you remain unbothered." Besides, Rasp had nothing against cooperation with the Zhentarim - the Kenku swore an oath to his quest, not to subjective morals. 

In the Temple of Savras...

"The Zhentarim, in general, are common here. Our merchant princes employ them as city guards and as protectors of their various endeavors in the jungle: mining, hunting, lumbering," offers Zitembe. "This wide-ranging access to the city, quite naturally, grants the Zhentarim opportunities to create their own...enterprises. As for those three men specifically, I have been shown nothing about them and their usual whereabouts."

In the Red Bazaar...

Faloniir, accompanied by Eldeth and Barkas, scurries from vendor to vendor in his hunt for dye, clothing, paint, glue, and feathers. Within thirty minutes, and after spending 6 pieces of gold, the soon-to-be rider of Gorumi has procured the materials that will ensure Port Nyanzaru will long remember the wood elf who raced atop a triceratops. 

(For both groups, let me know where you're headed next)

If any of those vendors were willing to cut him an endorsement deal,  Faloniir would like to know so he can be sure to tell any who asked after his costume, where he bought the supplies. Faloniir will follow the other two wherever they went until it is time for the race.

Edrik stands giving a slight nod to Zitembe. "Thank you for all your help.  We will see you tomorrow."

Once everyone is back outside the temple, he asks, "To The Monkey's Fist?"  

Barkas would want to head to The Monkeys Fist if there is time.

Same for Eldeth.

Rasp treated the priest to another respectful nod. "Very well, grandfather. Until tomorrow."

Rasp agrees with returning to the Monkey's Fist. 

In the The Monkey's Fist...

Rasp, Edrik, and Matthias seat themselves in The Monkey's Fist, a rather lively establishment filled with plenty to keep one's eyes and ears busy. The bulk of the patrons are Chultan humans and dwarves, but a few halflings and tabaxis can be seen, as well as a half-orc. Sitting upon a stool in the corner is a tabaxi minstrel playing a boisterous tune on the lute. 

Expecting the first person to approach you to be an employee of the inn, the three of you are surprised when you realize that the extremely portly halfling before you will not be taking your order. "Well, this is a fine-looking bunch, isn't it?! Allow me to welcome you to Port Nyanzaru. I am Gondolo, originally hailing from Longsaddle in the North, but now..."--and he flashes a winning smile as he finishes--"...but now I call the wonders of Chult my home!"

Gondolo then takes a lengthy gulp from his tankard as he awaits a response. 

- - - - - - - - 

Eldeth, Barkas, and Faloniir stride into the inn, and as they do so they spot the other three members of their party, seated but focused on a plump halfling who's engaged them in conversation. 

"Gondolo!  A pleasure!  You may call me Saville.   What kind of wonders can my companions and I find in Chult?   And please, don't skip-out on anything dangerous."  He'd give a wink, giving the halfling a signal to share any rumors of whatever he has heard.

"Hello and well met, Saville!" responds the rotund halfling. "The wonders of this land are both multitudinous and magnificent, and, as you've so insightfully noted, some of those wonders have an element of danger attached to them. Where to begin? Ah, where to begin? Ruins, treasures, mysteries, legends, exotic plants and animals--some medicinal, some magical, some lethal--but all of them unforgettable. The jungles of Chult are not for the faint of heart or the weak minded. But those who dare to explore it shall be richly rewarded. I know. I have been rewarded, Saville, and now I make it my business to assist others who might wish to do the same."

Gondolo then drains his tankard and motions toward the barmaid to bring him another. 

"Ah, so you are a guide then, Gondolo?"  Edrik says. "How long have you been here in Chult? And whatever brought you all the way here from Longsaddle?" 

Barkas walks in and unceremoniously sets his backpack next to the table.  "Hullo all!  We went shopping!  And Faloniir is going to race a triceratops!"  He looks over and sees the portly halfling next to the table.  He opens up his own backpack and brings out his mug.  He has a container at the bottom of the backpack with the thick-skinned hide of some unidentifiable animal and a spout on the side of the backpack.  He picks it up and tips it over sideways, into his mug.  He smiles at the halfling, says "Name's Barkas.  Beer is my game.  Bet you don't have any of this here.  Heh!"  He takes a deep draught.  "Nut Hatch Porter.  You can't beat it.  Want a sip?  You'll be asking me for the recipe I suppose."  He takes another deep drink.  "What brings you up in here?  How are you here?  What brings me to you?  Stop, reverse it.  What brings us together on this fine day?"