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CHEF GIRARD HEARTHSPICE:  “ What is this pile of bugbear shit?” 

YOU: Those are the last words you hear as you are escorted out of the headquarters of the Guild D’Gourmet. A pair of burly half-orcs take you by the shoulder and toss you out without ceremony. As you stand up and brush yourself off from the dirt, the wide gates slams shut. Even though it's closed, you can still hear muffled peals of laughter at your expense. 

CONNOISSEUR [EASY: SUCCESS]: Gaining membership into the esteemed culinary authority of the Occident is no small feat. The selection process is strict and consists of three phases. You made it halfway through the first which is better than most chefs can say. 

YOU: The head examiner, a geriatric gnome, barely even tasted your dish before deciding it was the worst sin since well-done unicorn steak. 

RAISON D’ETRE: Who needs the advice of a couple of old dinosaurs anyway? You’ve managed to get this far on your own. 

ENTERPRISE: No restaurant in the Occident can open without their say-so. Perhaps, partnering with another guild will be of benefit.

RAISON D’ETRE: Who needs partners? Let’s be in charge of our own restaurant! 

SHOWMANSHIP: The world needs to know your flavor, and we don’t need the Guild to cramp our style. 

ENTERPRISE: Intriguing. An independent venture? We can finally manage our salaries!  

YOU: I can get more than 10 imperials an hour? 

SHOWMANSHIP: Think of the decorations! We don’t have to deal with rotting oak planks anymore or those unsightly barmaid uniforms! 

YOU: The price for entry was steep, though. You begin to search through your pockets and the bindle which you carried with you on your back. 

TEXTURE [EASY: SUCCESS]: A smattering of small metal coins clinking is familiar to you. You have at most 50 golden imperials, 35 sliver kings, 10 bronze paupers and an eclectic collection of pennies and nickels. You have a few clothes on your back, but where are your kitchen tools?

CONNOSEUIR: As a price for your failure, the Guild D’Cuisine requisitioned all of your remaining kitchenware for their use. It was written in the contract that you signed before the selection process. 

YOU: There was one thing they didn’t manage to take though. 

[X] - A heirloom knife made of a mithril and adamantium alloy. 

[X] - A Kauldron brand, enchanted wok, perfectly smithed to distribute heat evenly. 

[X] - Your bottle of toasted spirit cooking oil from the Celestial planes. It’s half empty.