A dwarf sat bottling his slime in clear, clean glass, every now and then stopping to hold it up to the light and swirl it, apparently checking its consistency; perhaps the lights of the glowing vine-fruits above were not too dim for a dwarf to see by, as he could apparently do his task without squinting. Ever so often he would stir the great pot (pan?) over his cookfire. First muttering "...viscosity, slight bubbles, two layers.... needs three more days, two maybe....." then, "come on now, this is like bathwater, let's do better, buck up! How will the noodles cook?", it was easy to see he was very busy indeed.
Suddenly, an adventurer, carefully observing from a distance, would notice the dwarf's bright eyes focused directly on.... them!
"Well now, how long are you going to stand there? Your legs must be tired and you must be hungry! If you're not too proud to sit with an old dwarf like me, come and pull up a seat and we'll get you a bowl served as soon as you're warm. I'm Senshi. The dungeon is cold these nights, isn't it?"
The dwarf companionably gestures to a log sitting on the ground nearby, and gently stirs the pot with his ladle as he makes comfortable conversation, asking questions about tastes, allergies, and what an adventurer like you is doing so far down here so late.
Slowly, other guests make their way to the little gathering, some offering up a spare ingredient that gets questioned or exclaimed over before being added to the pot.
If you don't mind a little monster food, this is the place for you!
Suddenly, an adventurer, carefully observing from a distance, would notice the dwarf's bright eyes focused directly on.... them!
"Well now, how long are you going to stand there? Your legs must be tired and you must be hungry! If you're not too proud to sit with an old dwarf like me, come and pull up a seat and we'll get you a bowl served as soon as you're warm. I'm Senshi. The dungeon is cold these nights, isn't it?"
The dwarf companionably gestures to a log sitting on the ground nearby, and gently stirs the pot with his ladle as he makes comfortable conversation, asking questions about tastes, allergies, and what an adventurer like you is doing so far down here so late.
Slowly, other guests make their way to the little gathering, some offering up a spare ingredient that gets questioned or exclaimed over before being added to the pot.
If you don't mind a little monster food, this is the place for you!
The echo of her footsteps was soft against the stone, her lantern casting a golden glow along the tunnel walls. The deeper she walked, the more she wondered if her sense of direction had taken leave. The faint smell of woodsmoke and something savory reached her next, curling through the cool air like an invitation.
When she turned the corner and saw the dwarf hunched over his bubbling pot, her hand instinctively went to the small dagger at her hip. But the sight of him stirring and muttering about viscosity made her pause, curiosity quickly winning over caution. “Good evening,” she said, her voice carrying that practiced grace that could charm a crowd or a court. “I must confess, I did not expect to find culinary experimentation in a dungeon.”
The firelight caught on the silver of her hairpin as she stepped closer, eyeing the pot with both fascination and mild concern. “It smells,” she hesitated delicately, “mysterious. Is this what brave adventurers are meant to dine on down here, or are you testing the limits of what the human stomach can endure?”
Her tone was teasing, though her eyes sparkled with genuine curiosity. She approached the offered log and smoothed her skirts before sitting, every movement precise despite the uneven ground.
“I’m Princess Rose,” she added, inclining her head. “Though you may simply call me Rose, if titles make your soup curdle.” A faint smile curved her lips as she peered toward the cauldron again. “You did say it was edible, didn’t you?”
When she turned the corner and saw the dwarf hunched over his bubbling pot, her hand instinctively went to the small dagger at her hip. But the sight of him stirring and muttering about viscosity made her pause, curiosity quickly winning over caution. “Good evening,” she said, her voice carrying that practiced grace that could charm a crowd or a court. “I must confess, I did not expect to find culinary experimentation in a dungeon.”
The firelight caught on the silver of her hairpin as she stepped closer, eyeing the pot with both fascination and mild concern. “It smells,” she hesitated delicately, “mysterious. Is this what brave adventurers are meant to dine on down here, or are you testing the limits of what the human stomach can endure?”
Her tone was teasing, though her eyes sparkled with genuine curiosity. She approached the offered log and smoothed her skirts before sitting, every movement precise despite the uneven ground.
“I’m Princess Rose,” she added, inclining her head. “Though you may simply call me Rose, if titles make your soup curdle.” A faint smile curved her lips as she peered toward the cauldron again. “You did say it was edible, didn’t you?”
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