Good day! If you don't mind, GM, I'd like to toss my hat in the ring:
20-point buy it is! I'll write-up the background and make the post tomorrow; it's a bit late tonight.
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Wendell wrinkled his nose. "Pull off your muscles? You seemed to be in full use of your arms and legs here." There was a certain taste of fabrication here, the chef knew. If you're talking about preparing a steer for a roast, maybe, but a living person? "And you chose to stick around him all this time? Never once had an opportunity to escape? Why, if you ever came upon a group like you did upon us today, you could have simply fled. I imagine making it on your own in the wilderness beats being butchered alive!" After giving a slight snort of disdain, Wendell went back to his food.
"A dark ritual, you say?" Wendell had read of magic's workings, but he was not a true practitioner himself. "What the devil would he do with you? Putting a head on the pike is voodoo that doesn't have real effects." Teasing out the information - the first of interest to him - put his mind to use.
Shavel steps over to Wendell and grins. "So, the deer, my friend. Any chance you could make something smoked and dried from it?" He looks over at the deer Zulan got and licks his lips. "I can taste it already..." "Why not? Let me try..."
After a spite of preparation, it was clear the deer would be better than the former "dish". "There! Much improved." Wendell eagerly offered the new food about. His views on the bandit boy changed little. "Then you leave the town. Plunder and murder are little less weighty because of your shortsightedness."
The exchange with Darian was welcome; it would distract from the lack of palattebility Wendell's concoction had. Yet one with such flexible views as the prisoner would be dangerous. He would turncoat in a minute, Wendell knew. Just those one could "trust" to keep a secret.
"Why, I'm sure I can throw something together, my lady. I am not back at my kitchen, of course, but I will make do!" Excited to have a job of his specialty, Wendell sets to work making something scrumptious out of their sundry ingredients . "Viola! I call it Pathwalker's Potpourri"
He takes a bite of it and grimaces. "Ugh! This simply will not do - fit for the dogs and nothing more. I'll need more practice before my work in the field is fit for us. Forgive me!" Incredibly ashamed, the man's snippy demeanor immediately inverted itself threefold.
"Fairly high? Not with me around. The only failures I have are with wine-soaked crepes; the damned harvest this year was too acidic." The chef chuckles a bit in the proximity of Shavel and Mileana, trying to lighten the situation. "I imagine our work together is meant to breed success, not waste our efforts; at the very least, a bit of travel never did anyone any harm." Wendell didn't have absolute confidence in his statements, but he was betting he was right - after all, for such a diverse group to be selected, there had to be something special about them. "I wouldn't worry too much about the chap. If he has a lick of sense about him, he knows we're his ticket out of that rat nest he called home a while ago."
Was the bandit going to decline to answer Wendell's question?
The mixed man's ears perk at the man's reply. "Why is the only way to distract him an attack? Is he that hasty to rush into things?" If that's the case, a particular feint might work well.
"I daresay a boy daft as he might not even make sense of what you say." Wendell was obviously unamused by his antics.
Wendell didn't much follow the turn of events. Why in the many hells would he come forward like that? Perhaps there's some internal struggle with his kin there...
"Well, what are we going to do with this sot? He's heavy, and we really shouldn't be weighed down." He took an ounce of pity on him though - giving up those kind couldn't be easy. "But we can't just leave him here."
"Hmm? What's that?"
Hearing him out, Wendell nods. "Well, I agree we must act united." He was usually a chattier person, but these were people he wouldn't have the opportunity to gossip about for a while, so his lips were a bit tighter. And maybe he does have a few other points. The witch seemed sensible to him.
"Combat?" Wendell was a bit obtuse to Anchard's line of thought. "We come out alive however we can. How complicated do you expect this to be? There's not legions to maneuver." It was clear this was not the chef's line of expertise.
Wendell felt a touch like he was being taken advantage of with the contract, but then again, his talents were used for coppers on the gold for the king anyway. At least there will be a large payout from that contract. Mmm-hmmm. He rolled his eyes at the "more formal" introductions outside the royal's ears. "I'm Wendell - the chef. I suppose it will be my job to keep you all from eating raw roots and deer ears all day. I know a hint of alchemy and anatomy, so my use will go beyond your plate. Let us not dally - dragons and whatnot await." Still not completely sold on the reality of the task, he just wanted to get on with it. Urgathoa? Such heathen presence must necessitate a dire need. I wonder what his subjects would think... The cook opted for the heavier horse - all the better to pull things with - and readied himself for the road.
You may be new to PBPs, but I'm not, and I share your sentiments.
Do the nobles plan to explain why they picked us?
Sorry, I'd thought it was a typo for seven.
Wendell listens acutely for the response to Anchard's question. Perhaps he simply wants to rid himself of us. No, that doesn't make sense - these lot weren't here at the start...
"If you insist. I trust we will be capable of this task; your discerning gaze would not have brought us otherwise." He glances over the contract for anything in particular; it was unlikely anything would prevent him from signing it.
"Pardon, my lady, but could the one large crystal not be destroyed in the same manner? I confess the particulars of magecraft are not my specialty." Neither is barristers' language, but this contract seems quite lucrative...
Upon entering the room, Wendell gave a bow to the noble lady; it helped mask his disappointment. Why am I here with these outsiders? They didn't look like honored guests at a feast. We are all waiting it seems. As the elven tongue began to flow, the chef was unsure why they chose to use it. "I trust there are no need for secrets before my lord," he said with a hint of snobbishness. It wasn't for the king's benefit really, but his own - I'd rather him not in a sour mood at alienation.
@Anchard: I've never played Apocalypse World, but if you could offer some ideas as to what you mean, I am interested. +1
A request from the king himself! Wendell smiled. What could he want? To personally thank me for the pastry the other night? Perhaps his stew hit the spot. Of course, it was entirely possible he made some grievous mistake in preparation or presentation, yet he wouldn't allow himself to think that possibility for long. He donned a clean apron and prepared to present himself to his lord.
The waiting is torture! Part of his plan
Investigator is far more skill based than anything else!
Do see if the formatting is to your liking! I also put my desire/reward/fear in again - I guess they didn't save the first time. The forums must be hungry ... for Wednell's cuisine...
This is Stratos from earlier, submitting Wendell Almant for review. Let me know if there's anything amiss! |