>UPDATING MITHRIL CHEF FROM 3.5 EDITION TO 5th EDITION

The idea of drinking your sorrows away with a mug of ale sounds promising as does having the opportunity to taste local Benin cuisine. However, the street food appears to be the perfect balance between expenses and expectations. 

SYNTHESIA : How could you turn up your nose to street food? That raw smell that brings you back to simpler times, the hubbub of children chattering together, adults conversing together while waiting? It is the glue that binds a village together in times of dismal hope. 

CONNOISSEUR (SUCCESS): During the aftermaths of the 4th and 5th Iridescent Wars, street food blossomed in popularity as eateries and taverns closed down in the wake of King Arlo’s tariffs on grain, meat and other imports from the East Twilight Principality. If you wanted to eat cheap, hawkers were more likely to be your friend than the local garrison. 

[color=blue]ENTERPRISE (SUCCESS):[/color] It’s the life of the hustle, baby. The glorious financial arithmetic of coin for food is in front of you as of this moment. No special offers. No discounts. No guild inspections or certifications. Just the dreams of an individual bunkered under the need to survive. 

The line is slow and long as you trudge forward at the pace of an eptileptic slug. A lumbering troll and a dwarf squeeze you enough that it’s almost suffocating. This all better be worth it.

ENTERPRISE: A street vendor’s life lives or dies by the quality of their food.  If there’s this many people lining up, you know you’re in for a good time. 

PALETTE: You could have experienced better flavors if you were more willing to be frugal….

ENTERPRISE: A decent meal costs 20 silver kings. Tavern food is overpriced anyway. Being conservative with our culinary investments is the only logical route at this point. 

DIRTY STREET FOOD STALL: After a long period of waiting, you make it to the front of the line. The stall is clumsily built together from bell iron and worm-eaten planks of oak. The letters “ N” have been scratched 4 times on the upper most plank. Racks of foul meat, vegetables and stale food hang from flaxen rope. A jar of floating eyeballs in brine squint at you as you come closer. 

NIM NOM: Behind the stall, you spot a cloaked  tiny figure  standing on top of a bag of flour. A stained apron is wrapped around his torso. He’s currently stirring into a wok aggressively with an oversized ladle over a charcoal fire. 

TECHNICAL RUDIMENTS (SUCCESS): A spatula would be more suitable for this type of operation. 

PALETTE:  Each toss brings new flavor. It isn’t just for show. The flecks of aroma that cloy onto every granule of food. The sear. The heat. It’s like smelling a campfire. 

He turns around. Bright yellow eyes stare out at you from under a ratty brown hood. He jumps off the bag of flour and waddles towards you. 


NIM NOM: “ Welcome to Nim Nom’s Num Num’s. Your order?” 

The chef speaks so fast you barely have time to decipher his words. 

VISUALIZATION (FAILURE): You can’t quite figure out who this chef is. A goblin, maybe? 

“ Excuse me?” 

NIM NOM:  The chef shakes his head in annoyance and slaps a furry clawed hand on one of the front facing planks to catch your attention. A series of names is written alongside a table of prices. This must be his menu. 

“ You hungry, you buy.” 

At his insistence, you peruse the list, thinking carefully about what to buy. 

[X] - Flochian Flambe 

[X] - The Garbage Chest

[X] - Stoned Aboleth