As the Gembound began to crowd into the space, the broom-creatures grew more and more reticent. Each of them fixated on their visitors, beady-black eyes just barely visible behind their bristles. A cluster of them immediately took to cleaning up the dirt all of them were tracking in. Others focused more on
defending the various bits and bobs. Attikias's curious hands roaming over the oven were met with several hearty, full-body smacks. One attached itself to the end of Talys's walking stick, gnawing with razor-thin teeth to no real avail.
Kindly, they allowed Beast to simply observe them.
The dishware wasn't anything particularly special by
our standards—just a collection of plates, bowls, some crockery for stews... but, perhaps, they might be significant to the visitors. Despite their possible age, they were smooth and well-kept. Some were glazed with a matte or shiny finish, painted in various colors; others looked to be completely bare, with a rough texture and being simply terracotta.
Those approaching the stairwell discovered merely one new detail: the voice at the bottom'd gone quiet; sort of like when one's heard a noise in the house, and are waiting to see if it's a fluke or not. As soon as Attikias had rapped on the doorway, the mumbling ceased.
"Everything okay?" received no immediate response except for pitter-pattering feet. Catafay's raucous voice?
Oh—"oi! Who is that making all that racket upstairs?"
Steps creaked rather heavily as the creature(?) down below continued to (more clearly) mutter under his breath,
"by the Creator; Isra'd said it was all quiet and Eggbert actually has time to sleep now..." It—no,
he trailed off towards the top, just in time to step into the light...

... and stare wide-eyed at the sheer number of
things in his kitchen—
his kitchen! He recognized none of them as his helpers (except for the living brooms, of course.) How could he? Most of them were so
small. Only three of them were bipedal, and the one was covered in mud and dirt and whatever else.
The centauresque creature lifted one of his good hands and pinched the bridge of his nose, continuing to mutter,
"oh, no—this won't do. Where's the usual 'hired' help? Oh, Nedies, we're really in for it now..." His tail swished side to side as he shoved past everyone crowding the doorway to stare into his oven,
"out of my way, I've got a fire to start for this Feast." Just a little while to prepare, that'd been all he'd needed...
Without any regard for what any of the creatures present were or were doing, he started to ramble,
"all of the meats down in the cellar's gone rotten—turns out that's what a few hundred cycles does to it, mmm?—so none of it's good for a Feast. Is that rabbit," he jabbed a finger in Anselm's general direction,
"anyone's pet or good to eat?" In any case:
"go and catch some meat so we can get that roasting. Good stuff, too. If I see one bat or rat, you're all fired—I don't care what Isra says about a short staff."
Oh, and for the little guys—
"we need stuff for side dishes too. Anything sweet you can find... that'd be just swell. Fruits, herbs, roots... whatever you can—" (He swatted to the side.)
"—get on short—" (Swat.)
"—notice. We're on a short schedule, would you knock it off?" Nedies twisted to shoo off more of the brooms, which had apparently decided that his apron was just
far too dirty to tolerate.
"Chop chop! The Feast is nigh! We must showcase all the culinary wonders of these Caves!"
Orders apparently given, he set right to arranging his dishes.