“aye, my anvil stew and forge fire chili are to die for, but perhaps after this hustle and bustle has concluded. Let’s get into the tavern and see what they have waiting for us.”

Orunmila grinned, " I've been gracing taverns longer than most of you have been walking upright."

" Lets head in."

Zeymira agrees with, "Lead the way!" Being a bit shy, she doesn't want to be the first person to enter.

The group, having once again joined together into a full party, decides to head for where the party is. Already, they two other groups jostling and shuffling into the tavern, one of them standing our more than the other:

The halfling guard from earlier, seems to be bossing around a bunch of uncaring and reckless teenagers, who are messing with each other and taunting the other team, who seems much more serious.

As you enter the tavern behind them, you notice the wooden walls hung with banners, and the smell of ale and cooking meat floats through the are. Cutting through the comforting scent is something fouler, an underlying stench that just barely curls the hairs in your nose. 

As you breath in, ready for the challenge to come, the tavern cook, Gaerga, a jovial hafling fellow who you know is a bit too particular about the way the food is cooked, stands on top of a table in the center of the room, and clears his throat. Seeing that the teenagers promptly ignored him, he takes the pot lid and spoon he has besides them and bangs them together loudly, silencing the room.

"Finally. Now listen up!" He says "The rules of the competition are simple. Choose three people from your team, two to be cooks, one to be the eater. Using all the ingredients that have gone bad and we can't use anymore, the cooks will try to cook something...palatable" At this he chuckles "For the eater to consume. Whichever eater can keep their meal in their stomach the longest after eating it wins.

Also, if you give your eater their meal before the other team gives their eater their meal, you get a little extra something to help stomach whatever horrible things you folks cook up. This may have been a bad idea to do first, by the way. Choose your contestants, then tell me."

Once he finishes speaking, the chiller party looks horrified and promptly walks out, leaving just you and the halfling guard and his rowdy teenager recruits, who all immediately begin talking in a flurry, the sound almost deafening. Meanwhile, Gaera looks absolutely delighted at how horribly this is going to turn out.

Zeymira comments, "I know nothing about cooking, but as part dragon, I do have a hardy stomach." She looks none to sure about this contest...

Reentering the tavern for the first time since the early morning, Braggus happily reacquainted himself with the pleasant aroma of roasted meats and honied meads,  though his enjoyment of the smells was quickly cut by the spoiled ingredients that were soon explained to be part of their first trial.

Frowning as the tavern chef explained the goal, Braggus began to open his mouth to suggest perhaps starting elsewhere, before Zeymira spoke up.

Quote from JSenecal >>

Zeymira comments, "I know nothing about cooking, but as part dragon, I do have a hardy stomach." She looks none to sure about this contest...

At this his features went taut. He was clearly taking this quite seriously.

"I cannot be allowing this, honored one," he said, raising a hand as if to stop Zeymira. "I will be doing the eating, and Branor friend shall be showing us his cooking skills, I am hoping!"

He cast his mind back to all the unpleasant things he'd eaten in his life. There were few enough resources to be had in the secluded mountains his enclave called home, true, though they had also adopted multiple methods of preservation to compensate. As a child he was disgusted by the curdled rock goat milk his kin sometimes drank, though that was an acquired taste. He was laid low once by a particularly bad haunch from the same animal once, too. Surely nothing in this kitchen could be quite so bad?

Branor perks his head up at the words of the tavern cook.

”You mean I actually DO get to cook? But with only spoiled foods huh? This could be interesting…”

he begins taking out his cooking utensils from his bag which are properly cleaned and seasoned.

”If we need to cook with garbage, at least I won’t need to use their cracked pans. Ok! Who’s going to cook with me!”

Róisín furrows her brows and wrinkles her nose at the mention of someone having to eat the spoiled fare. "Nope. Not eating that!" she exclaims, shaking her head. "Don't know about cooking either. Hmm, I could try and help Branor though I guess."  She looks at Braggus, who evidently is going to eat the stuff. "Know a touch about medicine too. Maybe I can do something for you after you get ill." 

“Won’t be any need for that! I’ll cook it up so well that you’d think this rottin food was your mothers own specialty!”

Zeymira replied with obvious relief, "I will defer to you Braggus. It appears I will just be a spectator for this contest. Wait, if I assist with the cooking, I can at least assure that it will task good, though that won't help your stomach."

{Prestidigitation, the make anything tase good spell.}

Róisín gives a nod to Zeymira. "If you can make it taste good, then please, assist Branor." 

Orunmila examined the offerings dubiously, " I've eaten worse whilst in the field.....but not often."

She regarded Zeymira carefully, dwelling on the old mages words.......

She went over and stood behind Braggus ready to heal or bolster as needed.

{I think we have our team selected: Branor primary cook, Zeymira assistant cook providing magical flavoring, Braggus as eater, Orunmila as medic, and Róisín to sing about it later}

Coming to assist Branor, Zeymira says, "Concentrate on making it something that can stay down, and on the texture. I can make anything taste good with my magic."

{Hopefully using magic isn't cheating.}

Quote from Culuril >>

"Know a touch about medicine too. Maybe I can do something for you after you get ill." 

 Braggus perked an eyebrow at this, a rare chink in his confident nature appearing for a second at his partymate's apparent acceptance that whatever they concocted would make him ill. "I am appreciating your help, though perhaps it will not be badly needed."

Branor's confidence in his own abilities, at least, bolstered Braggus' own outlook. 

Quote from JSenecal >>

Coming to assist Branor, Zeymira says, "Concentrate on making it something that can stay down, and on the texture. I can make anything taste good with my magic."

 Though he wasn't familiar with such magic, Braggus couldn't imagine it would do much more harm than deliberately eating spoiled food.

"I am feeling...if you are being able to make it taste as snowberries and thick cream," Braggus said, fondly recalling some of his favorite flavors from home, "I shall be greatly in your debt, honored Zeymira."

Zeymira replies, "I could make it taste like that, but I can't change the texture, so it might be a bit off putting. Let's see what Branor can come up with, and pick a flavor to match."