Allez Cuisine!

Wynamoinen

he rumors had spread far and wide: a place where the greatest most innovative cuisine is created. A place where culinary dreams come true. The finest cooks come, the most discerning patrons sample. Eventually, those rumors found your ears. Have you met anyone who's actually been to this place? No. Is it strange that the rumors say it's in the middle of a monster-infested wilderness? Most certainly!

All the same, it's intriguing. Will the warning signs keep you away? Of course not!

You trekked over hill and dale. Rain has poured and sun has beaten. Asking around as you went, you were first met with confusion or dismissal. Eventually though, you found folk who met you instead with looks of pity, or worry, or wonder. They knew which way to point you. Some pointed you in that way, and others tried to encourage you in the opposite direction. You did not heed their advice.

Eventually, a line of cliffs arose on the horizon. You knew to look for the bend in the line, "Crooked as Beezlebub's lies, so crooked it comes back around to the truth." There it was - a U-shaped bend, like a great bite taken out of the sheer cliff face.

One of you found the place, unmistakeable, and yet there was nothing there. What was there to do but wait, and search? Eventually another showed up, and another, lured by the rumors. Finally, a few days later, two appeared at once. They entered the canyonlike place. There is barely time for introductions when an arc of red glowing runes, 10 feet tall, appears in the cliff face at ground level. The runes grow in burning intensity until they light up the space like a bright hearth. Beneath the arc, a split appears, which quickly widens - a stone door, where none was before found, swings open with hardly a sound.

The door reveals a passageway, sloping gently downwards underground. The passage is made of red marble on all sides, polished to a high sheen. Each side of the hallway is lined with those glowing runes where floor meets wall, lighting the descent into the unknown.

Yoshimi

colorful scarecrow with corn staff — Shemush

A casual observer would likely wonder why anyone would erect a colorfully-adorned scarecrow at the base of a line of cliffs with no corn in sight. When that same scarecrow, heretofore standing rigid and completely motionless, turned its head to the half-elf beside it and spoke, that same casual observer might decide that it was time to lay off the moonshine. Which, in the case of this particular scarecrow, would be an ironic conclusion to draw. The light, raspy voice barely echoes among the cliff faces.

"Blood-red, the westering rays
painted in foreboding tones the caves
Upon which Lugalbanda gazed,
Who steeling his resolve, past cursed threshold stepped
to tread the sub-terranean ways."

Someone who had not spent time among the Nerebu, which was nearly everyone, might be nonplussed. But Stagger Lee was probably the world's foremost outside expert on that mysterious race, and was quite comfortable with their tendency to speak in mythical allusions, metaphor and (not uncommonly) light rhyme.

Letting his question to his old friend hang in the air, Shemush returns his pale-irised gimlet stare to the glowing portal. Behind him, there is a quiet, slurpy chomping as Kashbir, the camel who draws the traveling duo's cart, chews on her cud. Then the cleric holds aloft a weathered wooden staff topped with an intricately carved, brightly painted image of an ear of corn. "Aroru, Undersecretary for Routine Prayers, I submit a formal request for Guidance."

There is a barely perceptible shimmer around the corn staff and Shemush feels the presence of the minor functionary of Nisaba's Administration. He studies the entrance carefully for anything that might cause a problem.

Stat Block

Shemush - Knowledge Cleric 6 | Proficiency:+3 | Darkvision 60'
HP: 33/33 + 0 temp | AC 15
Conditions: None | Effects: Warning (Adv on Initiative, Allies within 30' cannot be surprised, Allies awakened if melee starts)
Move: 30' | Saves: STR -1; DEX +2; CON +0; INT +3; WIS +7; CHA +2 | Passive Perception: 19
Proficiencies: Arcana (Expertise), History, Insight, Investigation, Medicine, Religion (Expertise)
Keen Mind (Feat):Know which way is north, Know hours until sunset or sunrise, Recall everything seen or heard in last month.
Observant (Feat):Can read lips, +5 to Passive Perception
Channel Divinity: (2/2 per SR + 1 Free refreshing at dawn)

Knowledge of the Ages (gain proficiency with any tool or skill for 10 minutes)
Read thoughts (as the spell Detect Thoughts, one creature in 60' range, DC 15 Wis Save, if successful cast Suggestion for free)
Turn Undead (Each undead within 30' DC 15 Wis Save or turned for 1 minute or until it takes damage). CR 1/2 or less destroyed.

---
Default melee attack: Mace: +2 to hit, d6-1 damage
Default ranged attack: Light Crossbow of Warning, +5 to hit, d8 damage

Magic items: Gem of Seeing, Amulet of the Devout +1, Clockwork Amulet (can take 10 on a roll, refresh at dawn), Light Crossbow of Warning
Other items: camel ("Kashbir"), camel saddle, 2 saddle bags, 10 days camel feed, cart, all the tool sets (kept in cart), 3 diamonds (300 gp value), divination rooster ("Yoo") and 1 lb divination corn (25 gp total), glass eye, jeweled horn, holy water (8 flasks), steel mirror, incense (4 sticks), sunburst pendant, thieves' tools, herbalism kit, dice set, playing card set, pan flute
Gold: 41

Spell slots: 2/2 level 1 spellcasting;
Save DC: 16 | Spell Attack: +8 (below B = bonus action, R = reaction)
Cantrips: Guidance, Mending, Sacred Flame (2d8 damage), Toll the Dead (2d8 or 2d12 damage)
First level: Command, Guiding Bolt, Healing Word, Identify, Prot Evil and Good, Shield of Faith
Second level: Augury, Calm Emotions, Silence, Spiritual Weapon, Suggestion
Third Level: Clairvoyance, Revivify, Speak with Dead

Action Block

Turn Summary
Out of Combat: Cast Guidance on own Perception Check (19), Study the Doorway
Move:
Action:
Bonus:
Reaction:
Object Interaction:
Conditions:
Effects:

JossJax

The Cane Formerly Known as Sugar

An aasimar with a halo and gold wings who bakes. — Cane

...But Cane is not a casual observer. She is the get of a harvest god. So, a talking crop-protector? Sure. Excellent idea. Mother would approve. Not that anyone here (especially anyone with an orange zest scent that has newly taken on undertones of fresh-struck matches and who is wearing an apron that exposes her collarbones) cares what Mother approves of,

Oh, it says poetry! She is the sort of girl who is easily moved by pentameter, be it iambic, dactylic, trochaic---even anapestic. She is not immune to words like "westering." She has been known to call things "Darkling." The darkling horizon, for example. The darkling hollow of his throat. The darkling chocolate, melting fecund in the gloaming.

She and Frrrinnnd have forged a little ahead, because Friiinnnddd kept having bad suggestions that sounded just a little tempting. So she sped up. And he sped up. And she sped up. And he sped up. Etcetera. Now she cannot help but ask him, Who is Lugalbanda? in an infernal whisper.

A furry, says Friiinnnd promptly. Fucked a cow, spawned the homicidal baby who murdered the Bull of Heaven. Facts. When he says Facts, it is always true, this is a thing sworn in the pact, but not TRUE-true. It is open to his beliefs. Friiinnnd can be misinformed, but he means well, she is certain.

Was the bull of heaven very good, so it was sad when he was murdered? she asks, again in his native infernal.

He wide-eyes her. Cane. Bull of HEAVEN! It is RIGHT THERE IN THE NAME.

Well, people---good people---write poetry about miscreants. That gnomish poet, Balek--- ah, what a good poem he wrote about murder! In the morning glad I see;
My foe outstretched beneath the tree. Oh worm, that gnome was sick, but he could rhyme. And anyway the scarecrow and the monkishy person swaying beside him are fixated on the very place that she and Coriander are bound. So she ignores Frrrrinnnnd, who is whispering frantically in Infernal, Pop wings and fly up into orbit and Eldritch Blast them both from space---it's the only way to be sure! and trit-trots right on up beside them.

Heyas, we are here find the foods, and that was a real good poem, and as for Lugalbanda, well, if people need to be a hedgehog or a swan to feel love, I mean, who is it hurting? Her cheeks have gone bright red. Mother is for fruitfulness, while it is Hell that speaks to pleasure. I'm Cane. This -- or that back there, coming up even now -- is Coriander. This is Friiiinnnd, but he only speaks infernal.

Imma go read those runes, okay? I can, but I have to touch them and -- well they look dangerous, and I'd appreciate it if you helped out some if they hurt me or whatever. You---you protect the harvest, so I think you must be here for our same reason, sir? This to the scarecrow. To find the foods. This to his friend.

Then she trots forward, whispering in infernal, making an obscene gesture that clashes with the halo, calling Hell Magic so she can understand them. She has been promised by Glasya that she can. If she says these words and touches. She hasn't tried it yet. She tries now, scootling forward with her heart all pounding, and she puts her hand on the wall.

What do the runes say? If it works, this thing she has now in her, burning like a coal... If the very act of touching them won't kill her...

OOC ACTION BLOCK
Movement: To outermost cave wall
Action: Cast COMPREHEND LANGUAGES, touch runes, read them.
Bonus Action:
Rolls:

Crunchy Bits

Cane
Aasimar | Warlock of the Fiend, Level 6 | Proficiency: +3 | Initiative: +2
AC: 14 | HP: 45/45 | Saves: STR 0; DEX +2; CON +2; INT +0; WIS +3; CHA +7
Passive Perception/Investigation/Insight: 10/13/13 | Speed: 30' Fly Speed: 30' |
Long rest: Wings 1/1 | Healing hands 1/1
Short rest: Dark One's Luck + a d10: 1/1
At Will: Mask of Many Faces (Disguise Self)
Attunement Slots: 1) Rod of the Pact Keeper +2 2) Pearl of Power 3)
Magical Items: Rival Coin (with Chauntea's head on one side and Glasya's tail on the other)
Chest of Preserving (Currently full of fluffy cupcakes with pink icing and gold sprinkles)
Shiftweave Clothes: Chef outfit (default, pictured) (Fake) Paladin Gear, (Fake) Devil Gear, Formal Wear, Elegant masquerade fox costume with mask
Spell Attack: +9 | Spell Save DC: 17
Cantrips: Eldritch Blast, Light, Minor Illusion, Prestidigitation
Warlock Spells: 1/2
Speak with Animals (r), Comprehend Languages, Find Familiar, Hellish Rebuke, Misty Step, Suggestion (c), Tongues, Vampiric Touch (c)

DM Inspiration: No

AnotherDragoon

Stagger Lee, wondering monk — Stagger Lee

Lee stood still like leaves of grass in a gentle breeze next to Shemush in the crooked bend. Smoke rose in a lazy stream from the long pipe in his mouth to swirl under the wide brim of his straw hat concealing honey-colored eyes that gazed beyond the horizon. He blew a cloud of smoke that wavered and coalesced into a one-foot by one-foot froghemoth that lingered only briefly before dispersing into the wind.

Other figures were coming around the bend. The whispered words, "Far out," slipped past his lips and followed the smoke when the cliff opened up.

"Indeed, my friend," Stagger Lee nodded sagely, "The sun rises and also sets. In the end we are all as grain beneath the great wheel. We go where we must." He tapped the bowl of his pipe out into his palm and blew the ashes away just as the haloed woman began her introductions.

He placed an open hand over a closed fist and bowed slightly, "Ah, nice marmot. I am Stagger Lee, formerly of the Hall of the Sacred Flower, and this is the wise Shemush of the golden plains. It is true we followed the rumors of delicacies and delectable to this place but have yet even to smell nary a simple stew. Did, did you open it?"

He lifted his hat slightly, freeing another small cloud of smoke, to get a better look at both the new door and new arrival(s). Maybe it could really be here after all, the greatest liquor of all creation. Would he finally be able to go back? Did he want to? Stagger Lee shook his head to rid himself of such troubling thoughts, "Hold on, if you're going to go and poke at it." He turned towards a clay jug taking two stumbling steps right and then one more to the left before snatching it up, "Gotta keep the mind limber," and tilting it back. "Ganbei!" He set the jug down and nodded, indicating his readiness, then settled into a swaying stance like a candle's flame. Sifu's voice barged up out of memory, unbidden, once again. Is the log in the fire or is the fire in the log? He and all his brothers were out practicing forms around a bonfire late into the night. It is neither, for it is both. Within everything lies nothing and in nothing you may find everything. Empty yourself to become one with everything.

Sure. Lee breathed out slowly and kicked the staff with ornate floral carvings up into his hands. Just in case something comes out.

Wishkamon

This was it. This was the place. Despite everything that the empty cliff face was telling him, Piccalo was sure this was the right place, and so the little gnome carried along the base of the towering wall of rock until he spotted a huddle of figures a little way away.

”Be ready Teecee. I wonder if these are friends or foes?” The enchanted mound of cream and spongecake waddled along behind him, silent save for a slight squelching sound that accompanied each moist step. Teecee could not speak, but Piccalo had a workaround for that.
”Friends, I think!" he responded in a high pitched woman’s voice that sounded way better in his head than it did out loud.
He’d been traveling long enough by this point that he'd stopped worrying about whether or not talking to a cake was an indication that he was slowly descending into madness.
”Oh my little dear," he chuckled, "always looking on the bright side, aren't you?”

But as it turned out, the imaginary voice of Teecee was right. Not only were they friends in the non-hostile sense, but these were quite literally people he knew.

"oh, that's a little embarrassing isn’t it?" he muttered to himself as he released who it was.
”Nonsense.” he retorted with forced certainty. Shemush and Stagger were decent guys. They wouldn’t hold a little tantrum against him would they? Still, best to clear the air quickly.
”oh ho! What a wonderful coincidence!” he grinned through poorly masked chagrin. "Shemush, Mr Lee, terribly good to see you again, say, sorry about that whole mess in Ashtown, water under the bridge, I hope?" He may have been arrogant and self–obsessed to the point of insolence, but at least he was self aware enough to know that he had acted like an ass the last time they had seen eachother. Still, he wasn’t going to let that get in the way of acting like an ass again whenever the desire took him. Speaking of which, he turned to the present young woman.

”wait…" the baker tapped a finger rapidly against his forehead, as if to shake an old memory loose. "it is you, isn’t it? Sugarcane! My, how you have grown! he wisely resisted the urge to stand on his toes and pinch her cheeks. You know my kids still sing that song- how did it go-
‘Sugar on a dumpling,
cherry on a pie,
nothing in this world is as sweet as when you smile.’
haha! do you still sing that one?
He gave a wistful sigh. He hadn’t seen his kids in three years, so there was no telling if they really still sang that song.
They do say that absence makes the heart grow fonder though, and Piccalo was inclined to believe that because he found that he had finally forgiven his family for the selfish way they had acted when he announced that he was leaving them to go on an important quest- crying and begging him not to go as if they didn't know that would break his heart!

But on that note, perhaps said quest was finally drawing to its end. The rune-lined doorway hissed into existence.
The smooth walls of the newly revealed corridor were instantly reminiscent of a well marbled steak. That had to be a good sign, right?

lostcheerio

Coriander, Tiefling Sorcerer

Manic blonde tiefling in a blue dress, surrounded by pickles and cheer. — Coriander

Under her arm, she carries a harm. NO! Not a harm, dammit, a HARP! She carries a harp, and her sweet lips part and tear out your -- NO. Teeear up your eyes! Brrriingle-ee-dee! Briiiingle-ee-doo! The harp makes beautiful chords, real angel shit, pretty as clouds and rainbows and kittens. In fact, pink kittens. Really. The harp produces tiny pink kittens that float and frolic around her as she carries it, under her arm.

Coriander swishes down the canyon after Cane, plucking the strings of her harp as she goes. "Oh hello! Hello hello!" she trills out to everyone who is already there. She puts out her hand to shake and gives a little curtsy with each meeting. A scarcrow -- monk -- gnome! "Kittens! Magic! I'm Coriander, and it's so nice to meet you."

She says to the gnome, "Oh yes, you might also remember me from my show. Back then, on the village festival circuit, yes, I was going by the name Appetite, ha ha! Oh my." She makes a rawr face, baring her fangs, and allowing her eyes to smolder just a little before returning to cerulean blue. Her show, back then, before she became a very nice person, was called Hot as Hell and she gave prizes to people who could eat the most hot peppers. She hopes fervently that no one remembers it because she did some really raunchy things on that show and she is a totally different person now, with a divine spark and everything, so. New page -- harp chord -- kittens!

"Are you a devotee of Chauntea?" she asks the scarecrow corn man. "I am. I am a big devotee of Chauntea. Bounty, and sunshine, also. In fact, I'm only about scythes in the context of harvesting wheat now, you know? Not so much the --" She makes a skrrrt gesture across her throat. "Unless you're wheat! Of course!"

A red-runed door opens up in the black cliff face and reveals a tunnel of red marble headed down into the ground. Now, Coriander has only been a really nice person for a very short time. However, she knows for certain that walking into the earth through red-runed portals is not what nice people do. It is on the other hand exactly what hell people do. It's what she, herself, would have done without a single second thought, last week, before she painted her horns with sky blue glitter and invested in a shirt with a collar.

"Oooo, are we super sure we want to go down there?" she wonders, tugging mildly at Cane's newly-wicked elbow.

"I'm here looking for sweet ingredients," she explains to the monk. "Very sweet, very mild. Sugars mostly. Rare honey, I'm told, can be found in places like this. I'm turning on to a whole new side of pickling, lately. Ginger, for example. Did you ever try ginger pickles?"

OOC

[In progress]

Wynamoinen

ithout any planning, the gathered crew finds that many are known to most. Is that shocking? Natural? Fated? Eerie? Opinions may vary.

Shemush, you consider the hallway. The impression you get is above all of some short of upscale (if a bit gaudy) resort. Or at the least, someone who has put a lot of effort into giving that impression. It must be well- and often-maintained, even if it's only a fascade. It is certainly real marble, brought in from somewhere far away. There is no obvious air flow outwards, but all the same it's notable that there is no sound coming from within, nor any delectable smells. It is elegant, it is empty.

Cane takes an interest in the glowing runes. She has the tools to read them, whatever tongue they written in. But magic isn't necessary. She recognizes the script right away as a blocky, easily-legible Infernal. A set of phrases arcs over the door, and the same set of phrases lines the passage downwards, repeating over and over. When she eases out the most blashemous overtones, as one must with infernal, the most direct translation is something like... Mighty chefs. Mighty flavor. Eternal Champions. Eternal Failures.

Both Cane and Shemush recognize that since the runes are glowing, there must be some magic operating here. But once translated, it is clear that these are not the kinds of rune that will explode in one's face or trigger any other ill effect.

OOC

Mostly leaving room here for interaction, backstory-establishing, and rapport-building, before we delve down.

Joss, please consider your spell slot refunded. Cane would have immediately seen that she didn't need to cast in order to understand the language.

Yoshimi

Shemush's pupils contract, giving an even stronger impression that they are trying to drill through whatever they are looking at. This was a sign, Stagger Lee knew, that the Nerebu was shifting states into sleuthing mode. A set of data and their interpretation were always forthcoming, and this instance was no different. "There are no sensory stimuli emanating from the corridor, save for the red glow. Either the rumor of an eatery in these cliffs is unfounded, or someone has finally perfected aroma-free pie."

Before he can elaborate, there are suddenly a great deal of sensory stimuli as folk emerge from all around. The cleric's eyes dilate and he turns jerkily to face the newcomers. Holding his arms out expansively with his corn staff pointed skyward, he intones raspily, "Shemush, like Ondrani bidding welcome to her Sanctuary." His pale eyes shift to rest on Picallo, then slide over to the shambling cake behind the gnome and narrow warily. His arms fall back by his side and he lets go of his staff which dangles from a tether beneath his arm.

"Ashtown where the views are stunning.
We went in walking, but came out running."

It's clear he has not forgotten, but his expression remains neutral. The other two arrivals needed no introduction, and he wonders aloud, "Everybody's who's anybody!" But Coriander's question grabs his attention.

"Aaaaah!" Shemush snaps his finger up to his face and taps his shiny, black nose twice.

"Chauntea for the sun and rain,
and fields of golden beauty.
Nisaba for the siloed grain,
and giving scribes their duty."

He blinks deliberately, but says nothing further.

Stat Block

Knowledge of the Ages (gain proficiency with any tool or skill for 10 minutes)
Read thoughts (as the spell Detect Thoughts, one creature in 60' range, DC 15 Wis Save, if successful cast Suggestion for free)
Turn Undead (Each undead within 30' DC 15 Wis Save or turned for 1 minute or until it takes damage). CR 1/2 or less destroyed.

Action Block

Turn Summary
Out of Combat:
Move:
Action:
Bonus:
Reaction:
Object Interaction:
Conditions:
Effects:

JossJax

Cane

She tells everyone what the runes say, though of course Frrriend and Coriander both can read it. Then she adds, It's Cane now, to the Hin baker, smiling. It's good to be recognized as an individual, not simply as one of the many Daughters who spent their childhoods touring Harvest Fests as part of Chauntea's Chanteuserie. The Hin knows her by a name, as an individual girl who broke out of the golden, be-winged, warbling pack, even if it is the wrong name. Just Cane. I dropped the "Sugar."

She says this a lot now. Transitions are hard for fans, harder still for friends, hardest of all for family. Her mom has dropped the Cane and simply calls her Sugar with warm, benevolent belligerence. Her retired former tour-mates, Even her longtime besties Fried Pie and Jellyroll, call her Shuh---uh--I mean, um Cane. Her former co-stars are all now getting married to farmers and orchard owners, being fruitful and singing away the weevils and dancing barefoot to enrich the soil, etc, etc. She has other ambitions.

Friiinnnd is right by her shoulder, hovering, putting a steady stream of whispery croaks of infernal directly into her ear. It's the same advice he gives her anytime anyone mucks up her name. One good Eldritch Blast, they won't forget, now will they?

(He is kidding. Probably. Or at least, he surely means, like, she should shoot an Eldritch Blast at a bush or up into the sky. As a demo. Not, like, to the person's face. Right? She doesn't d that, though. She has never cast that spell, not once. Not yet. She knows the weird, infernal word to gargle out in the back of her mouth. She has practiced it in her head and then out loud (with no gesture), plenty, until Frriiinnnnd approved. She also practiced how to fork the fingers of her left hand, make the stab forward---just never with the word. She's a little anxious about it. What will it look like. Smell like. How much will it hurt what it hits? She has never hurt anything, even a chicken, because desserts don't call for meat.

Well, eggs. She has hurt eggs! HEARTENING! Because this is what adventurers do. And she is an adventurer now. Or she WILL be. She must, if she wants to get those coveted after-dark storytelling slots on the circuit, the ones that go on after the kids go to bed, with (she has heard) plenty of sizzle. Those are the Performing Cooks folks remember, talk about, the ones that get invited to the big venues, who end up making cupcakes for royals while telling violent wild tales of how they acquired this rare spice, that hunk of evil-dragon meat. Down in this place, guarded by hell-words, are the recipes she needs, the spices, the food. The experiences.

To the scarecrow, who has acknowledged Mother and his own god, she adds a closing couplet to include her patron and Coriander's progenitor to the godly round-up:

Glasya below us brings the heat
Malbolge is baking something sweet.

She lifts her nose and orients on the entrance. Does it smell Sulpherous? Or---like a kitchen, a very nice kitchen for nice people? Or like---food.

OOC ACTION BLOCK
Movement:
Action: PERCEPTON by smell -- 6
Bonus Action:
Rolls:

Crunchy Bits

DM Inspiration: No

lostcheerio

Coriander, Tiefling Sorcerer

"Chauntea, yes, that's it!" she cries, strumming a pretty arpeggio on her harp. "Chauntea for the sun and raaaaain!" she tries to sing. Coriander is beautiful. Delicate. Her speaking voice is sweet and feminine. But her singing voice doesn't match at all, and comes out grating and atonal. Like a fry cook that's smoked a pack a day for twenty years. Or a donkey in despair. Or a crow. She coughs a little, and flutters her hand over her throat. "Oooh, heh. Well, Nisaba sounds nice too," she muses. She likes the sound of the goddess's name in her mouth. Niiiiisaba. But maybe won't sing it. Just now.

When Cane sings her couplet about Glasya, Cori takes her arm and gives it a sisterly squeeze. "Yeah, she does," she says nervously. Her eyes wander around the group and then back to her friend with a quick smile. Like this is fine! This is great. We're doing so great.

"If it's not dangerous, maybe we should go in?" she suggests. She summons a fist-sized pepper and sends it into the tunnel, then makes it turn around and look back at the group and growl, in a gritty, baatezoid accent, "Heyyy, come on, guys, it's fine, let's get it!"

OOC

Action: Cast Mage Hand to summon a pepper. Cast Thaumaturgy to throw her voice and make the pepper talk. (These are part of the sorcery that she used in her show, Hot as Hell.)
[Stat block still in progress, but I did re-pick my spells. Character sheet. ]

Wishkamon

The gnome rubbed his chin as he observed the strange Tiefling. He was pleased to say that he had no memories of any hot and heavy chilli eating competitions, for he had been a very reputable fellow at that point in his life.

“Oh if you like sweet things? My dear you simply must try to get your hands on some giant-bee honey!” he exclaimed, suddenly very excited. “Flavor like nothing else in the world! oh! Tecee, show this nice lady your bum won’t you? You see that? That caramelised part there? Giant bee honey infused with essence of goodberry…” he beamed proudly, “Oh if only you could taste it- please do not taste it.”

He might have continued, or perhaps insisted on showing her his several notebooks on sugars and sugar alternatives, but the conversation moved on, and Piccalo stood in silence as the others waxed poetic about their deities. Perhaps he was merely drinking in his company, or more likely he was trying and failing to find a rhyme for ‘Darkhearth’. Oh well.

He nodded with agreement when the party stirred to enter. “Yes let’s get a move on already. I have very important work to do, as I’m sure we all do. Those bones aren’t going to boil themselves.”

He was really into gelatin right now. See even with magical tinkering it was simply too challenging to get a creature of the scale he was envisioning to stay together. Surely if he could find the right type of gelatin,that would do the trick. He had seen gelatinous cubes the size of houses, so there had to be something there… Unfortunately he hadn’t yet found a way to neutralize the acids without dissolving the whole bloody thing, so now he was wondering about the bones of magical creatures…

“Come Teecee” He followed the others, and as he walked he ran his hands along the glowing marble, using his experience with rock and stone to check for any hidden edifices or doors as they moved.

Investigation check for hidden doors as they move down the corridor. (25)

AnotherDragoon

"Peculiar isn't it, Shemush?" But, come to think of it, the monk didn't smell anything nor feel a difference in air pressures or wind currents when the door cliffside opened.

The two gnome shapes in front of the, was that a cake? soke of an incident in Ashtown with another old travel companion, an unorthodox baker. The two forms coalesced into one shape that Stagger Lee recognized. A smile creeped across his face as that recognition reached his brain, "Piccolo! Is this your special lady?" He nodded to the shuffling cake, pretty sure it's some sort of baked confection that was the gnome's style. "I should thank you for Ashtown, the barkeep completely forgot about all the wine I drank after you left. Who knows how much firewood I would've chopped or how many dishes washed!" Too many is the answer. Repetition and tedium might be a valid path to enlightenment, but it was not the only way. It couldn't be.

Lee raised an eyebrow at the horned woman, "Pickled, no but I am willing to try anything once. And twice to be sure." He laughed at his own joke, it's an old one passed around certain circles like an opium pipe. "As a child, in the Hall of the Sacred Blossom, Sifu would sometimes give me bits of ginger crystalized in sugar." His eyes glazed over slightly more as some memory played out in his mind. He shook it away and continued, I came seeking ways to reach enlightenment through the altering of my consciousness. Mostly looking for strong brews and anything with hallucinogenic properties." This was usually about the time people will smile, nod, and stop listening but if she was still there he continued, "You see, we are all of us a small piece of the multiverse crammed into these mortal vessels in order for it to experience itself. One day we will return and become whole, one with Everything. It is only natural to seek out some type of bridge or alternate pathway to the Oneness while we are here, temporarily as it may be."

He pondered this for a moment as the introductions continued until he realized some were going on through the door. Lee shrugged, put on his pack, made sure his flask wasn't empty, and stepped in too.

Moving Parts

Actions
Location:
Action:
Extra Attack:
Bonus Action:
Reaction:
Condition:

Rolls
Saves:
Checks:
Actions:

Cruncy Bits

Stagger Lee
Half-Elf | Monk 6 (Way of Drunken Master) | Proficiency: +3 | Initiative: +3
AC: 16 | HP: 45/45 | Saves: STR +4 DEX +6 CON +2 INT +0 WIS +3 CHA +0
Passive Perception/Investigation/Insight: 16/10/13 | Speed: 45
Darkvision:60 feet | Fey Ancestry: Advantage on Saves against being charmed, can't be put to sleep magically
Unarmored Defense: without armor or a shield AC = 10 + Dex mod + Wis mod
Martial Arts: | d6 | While unarmored, unarmed, and shieldless (or wielding monk weapons) can use Dex instead of Str for attack and damage rolls, use martial arts die for damage, can make 1 unarmed strike as a bonus action after an attack action
Ki-Empowered Strikes: Unarmed strikes count as Magical for the purpose of resistance and immunity
Ki Points: DC 14 | [ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ] / Short Rest
Flurry of Blows: After an attack action, may spend 1 Ki point to do 2 unarmed strikes as a Bonus Action
Drunken Technique: When using Flurry of Blows, gain benefit of Disengage and walking speed +10' until end of turn
Patient Defense: May spend 1 Ki point to Dodge as Bonus Action this turn
Step of the Wind: May spend 1 Ki point to Disengage or Dash as a Bonus Action this turn, jump distance doubled
Unarmored Movement: +15' while unarmored and shieldless
Deflect Missiles: May use reaction to deflect or catch the missile when hit by a ranged weapon attack, damage taken is reduced by 1d10+9, if damage is reduced to 0 as long as a hand is free may spend 1 Ki point to make a ranged weapon attack (as aa monk weapon) with a range of 20/60
Slow Fall: Use reaction to reduce any falling damage by 30
Stunning Strike: When a melee weapon attack hits may spend 1 Ki point to stun target until end of my next turn if failed DC 14 Con Save
Tpisy Sway: Can stand from Prone with 5' movement. When missed with aa melee attack may spend 1 Ki point as a reaction to hit a creature other than the attacker within 5'
Attuned:
DM Inspiration:
Consumables: 2 potions of Healing, 2 Antitoxin
Cash Monies: 1550 Gold
Carrying:

Wynamoinen

Greetings and remembrances taken care of, the group musters its forces and begins down the passageway. The door that swung open to admit them swings silently closed behind them, leaving only the runes to light their path.

The whole group now has noticed the lack of inviting restaurant smells. Cane, tuned into The Infernal, strains to find wisps of sulphur. No, none of those either. If there is anything olfactory to notice, it's a certain sterilized sanitized neutrality. Maybe a touch of lemony or juniper-inflected cleanliness, long since worn away. Anything that might give offense, gone.

As the group walks down the gentle slope, it eventually becomes clear that the runes are dimming. Not the individual runes, but rather, the deeper in they go, the dimmer are the runes. It is always possible to see your next steps, but eventually the light is just barely enough to show the path, as if guiding your way though a darkened theater. This does not make Piccalo's search any easier, but the scholar needs little help. There is no sign of hidden doors. The hallway only leads to one destination.

Heels clicking and bare feet slapping on the hard smooth stone floor, eventually the destination arrives. The runes have diminished down to nothing, and from the echoes, it is clear that they have come to an open chamber. Just as someone thinks to provide light, the need is removed.

Jets of sparkling flame jut out, into the air, in six different places at a safe distance away. The flames create a whooshing roar, and then the sparkles crackle like the New Year. They illuminate a large semicircular room, perhaps 100 feet in diameter. The passageway entered in the middle of the rounded side, and you face the flat portion of the semicircle. Aside from the passage you came down, four other hallways can be seen around the semicircle.

In a glance, you can see that the room is divided into three pie-shaped areas of equal size, and color coded: red, yellow, blue. In each segment there is a set of countertops of the same color. Pots, pans, knives, whisks, colanders, mortar and pestle; any tool a cook would need is arrayed thrice, a full set in each color-coded area. Hearth, oven, firepit (unlit), smoke box; anything you'd need to heat a meal, similarly repeated. Plates, bowls, toureens, tagines, chargers, platters, silverware; any service you could need is there to use.

There is no food to be seen.

Large rune-inscribed devil in a chef's hat, surrounded by pyrotechnics and kitchen utensils

While all this is noticeable at a glance, your active attention is drawn instead to the location against the flat back wall, opposite where you entered. There, the three color-coded areas meet like the center of a half-eaten pie. A raised dais is there. Upon the dais, a throne. Standing in front of the throne is an enormous red-skinned, bat-winged, long-horned figure. He is 12 feet tall, if an inch. He wears loose linen pants, but is barefoot and bare-chested. A chef's hat sits on his head.

As the pyrotechnics roared and crackled, he spread his great wings and raised his hands over his head and shouted a mighty battle cry. As the pyrotechnics die down, torches light around the perimeter of the room. The fiendish person looks to the group with an excited delight. "Welcome to my Kitchen Arena! I am your host, Bakto! You're here to compete!" This is notably not stated as a question.

"Time to test your skills as the greatest cooks! Wondrous prizes! Mortal perils! True heroes! True legends! Let's do this!"

Yoshimi

So far, there did not seem to be any operation here to rival the vats and distilleries of Unther. But it wasn't smart to trust first impressions when demons were involved. You just had to see where their games led, for a while. Shemush strides stiffly forward, so that he is standing a little ways ahead of the party and looking up at Bakto. He calls out politely, "Shemush, like Ulkabain receiving his pilgrimage from Ninkasi the Demigoddess of Beer"

He takes up his staff and holds it vertically. Then he intones:

"Hark unto thee these Rules Three
So that thine task go well with thee.
Look not behind thee, come what may,
Take naught thou find along the way,
Drink neither spirits, beer, or wine
Until thou reach my sacred shrine.
Heed these edicts Ulkabain,
Lest thy mission end in vain."

The Nerebu lowers his corn totem again. From force of habit he looks backward to Stagger Lee in case a translation were needed. Then he turns his gaze back to the demon and waits expectantly.

Stat Block

Knowledge of the Ages (gain proficiency with any tool or skill for 10 minutes)
Read thoughts (as the spell Detect Thoughts, one creature in 60' range, DC 15 Wis Save, if successful cast Suggestion for free)
Turn Undead (Each undead within 30' DC 15 Wis Save or turned for 1 minute or until it takes damage). CR 1/2 or less destroyed.

Action Block

Turn Summary
Out of Combat: Paying attention to the demon's expressions and tone for any sign that he intends to kill us all (Insight Roll 13)
Move:
Action:
Bonus:
Reaction:
Object Interaction:
Conditions:
Effects:

JossJax

Cane

HE SEEMS GREAT! whispers Friiiiinnnnnd, excited. HE SEEMS LIKE A PARTY. Who are we competing against? Each other? Other teams? Can we be RED? All those colors are pretty good though. Primary. Basic. Priiiiimal. Red is best, then yellow, and blue is for potzers. OH hey! Ask him what Hell he's from!

Shush, she shushes. She likes blue, herself, and she is trying to figure out if this is a devil. She thinks so. An arena is for competitions,---games---and a game has rules. Devils like rules. Surely "having rules" + infernal runes = Hellish---in the Abyss they speak a different fiend tongue, right? And Abyssal games are more, like, one demon screams, LET'S PLAY RANDOM FLESH TEARING, and another shrieks, NO I WANT TO PLAY CANNIBALISM, and then they proceed to play both with each other or anyone or anything else in a big mess of violence. She shivers.

Whiiiich Hell? Find out! Friiiiind whispers, a little frantic, now. Two of his clicky-claws are crossed as he mutters, Not the Fifth, not Fifth---look, fire jets. Very promising. The fifth is cold, you know.

She isn't much up on the politics of Hell, but she gathers her patron is on the outs with whoever runs the Fifth? She steps up beside Shemush, who is saying poem things again. She, too, looks to Stagger Lee, politely, but there is a bit of the old, lolwut? in her glance.

Hullo. I'm Cane, and this is Friiiinnnnd. Yes, we came to compete. Are the five of us on the same team? she asks. This feels like the most urgent of Friiiind's questions. She is used t being part of a team. She isn't ready to solo, she only just got this pact! She has yet to leave the haven of dessert to try making a passed app or shooting an Eldritch Blast, but this be-hatted host, Bakto, is not asking what they want. He is saying what they will do, and he is very imposing and tall and powerful. She has power, too. She has been told. But it feels very new and theoretical and small in the face of this spooky red personage.

She looks around. Any evidence of other teams? How big are the pie slices? One-chef-sized or made more for pairs or a whole kitchen crew? Any symbols or runes from a specific Hell?

ASK IF THERE ARE PRIIIIIZES!!!!!! Friiiiinnnd cannot contain himself.

OOC ACTION BLOCK
Movement:
Action: Investigation on the arena space as best she can from a distance. 22 (or 19 if perception is more what it would be)
Bonus Action:
Rolls:

Crunchy Bits

Cane
Aasimar | Warlock of the Fiend, Level 6 | Proficiency: +3 | Initiative: +2
AC: 14 | HP: 45/45 | Saves: STR 0; DEX +2; CON +2; INT +0; WIS +3; CHA +7
Passive Perception/Investigation/Insight: 10/13/13 | Speed: 30' Fly Speed: 30' |
Long rest: Wings 1/1 | Healing hands 1/1
Short rest: Dark One's Luck + a d10: 1/1
At Will: Mask of Many Faces (Disguise Self)
Attunement Slots: 1) Rod of the Pact Keeper +2 2) Pearl of Power 3)
Magical Items: Rival Coin (with Chauntea's head on one side and Glasya's tail on the other)
Chest of Preserving (Currently full of fluffy cupcakes with pink icing and gold sprinkles)
Shiftweave Clothes: Chef outfit (default, pictured) (Fake) Paladin Gear, (Fake) Devil Gear, Formal Wear, Elegant masquerade fox costume with mask
Spell Attack: +9 | Spell Save DC: 17
Cantrips: Eldritch Blast, Light, Minor Illusion, Prestidigitation
Warlock Spells: 2/2
Speak with Animals (r), Comprehend Languages, Find Familiar, Hellish Rebuke, Misty Step, Suggestion (c), Tongues, Vampiric Touch (c)

DM Inspiration: No

Wishkamon

It was a good thing that he was bringing up the back because his little golem friend left sticky, slippery footprints on every step, but as soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs he regretted his placement and tried to wiggle his way past the legs of the others to see what was going on. He had planned to enchant a gemstone to give them some light to those without darkvision and be appreciated for his wonderful usefulness, but then suddenly the need was gone. So much light. A flashy, showy type of light which matched both the rest of the room and the unusual host.

Piccalo drank it in. He’d never seen anything quite like it. Well, apart from the kitchen part. He’d seen a great deal of kitchen in his life, but the colorful room was certainly something. The infernal creature in the chef’s hat was a surprise too, but he supposed that made sense given the infernal runes around the door. Still, he scouted his memory for the name. Bakto. Had he read that in some old arcane tome during his revenge-based research? Or was this being to remain as strange as the room he saw dominion over.
Well one thing was for certain- there was a ferocious excitement in the fiends eyes that was… absolutely contagious. Piccalo found himself grinning back.
“Red! Lets pick red! Red like strawberries!” he said out the corner of his mouth, followed swiftly by “shhhhh Teecee. I’m thinking.”
A devils arena, ay? Wondrous prizes, ay? What could the prizes be? Infernal kitchen
knowledge? Forbidden recipes? Kraken bone jelly, maybe?!
He clapped his hands together in confirmation of his decision. The decision was ‘yes, regardless.’
And with that he marched over to inspect the red kitchen area without an ounce of the sort of skepticism that would probably be healthy in a situation like this. He had heard Friiiiinnnnnd talking about Red, and he didn’t like to loose.
One might expect certain questions to arise-
‘Who the hell are you?’
‘What’s the catch?’
‘What happens if we loose?’
‘Will it be dangerous?’
“Do you have one of those cake molds that’s shaped like a lamb? Oh nevermind, I see it!”
Thing was that Piccalo had already decided that he would become a legend during his itsy-bitsy gnome-sized mental breakdown three years ago, so it seemed entirely logical to him that he was here to win the ultimate prize which would somehow help secure his ultimate revenge.
Cane raised a good, albeit trifling point-
What did that make the others? Teammates or competition?
“Mr Bakto, I’m going to require a stool as well please.”

—

OOC

Nat 20 (24) for history check on the name ‘Bakto’

Saves
ST(-1) | DX (+1) | CON(+6) | INT(+7) | WIS (+1) | CHA (-1)

Magic -Spell save DC: 15
Cantrips- Mending, Ray of Frost
LVL1 - Snare, Disguise self, Tashas caustic brew, Farie fire, absorb elements, cure wounds, Greese
[ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]
LVL 2- Heat metal, enlarge/reduce, enhance ability
[ ] [ ]

Features-

lostcheerio

Coriander, Tiefling Sorcerer

Coriander gasps theatrically and puts her pale hand to her throat. "Oh my gosh, what even is that thing? Yikes! Some kind of weird dragon with no snout or like a bat person or what? Yikes! Whoa. Has anyone ever? I mean ever in their life?"

She gives Cane a yikes face. Cori herself has, ever in her life. Lots of times, actually, assuming it's a pit fiend, not a balor, and judging from the color coding and the thematic headgear, it likely is a pit fiend. She's never known a balor to color-code anything or even wear pants let alone a woven blend. Infernal around the door, glowing red marble, and now a twelve-foot-tall devil with firework effects. This adventure is going to give her a lot of growth opportunities, she thinks in a panic. Growth, growth! She puts her hands over her face and says a quick prayer based on one she learned in cleric initiate school: "Dear Chauntea, please don't let that pit fiend know me. And if he knows me please don't let him recognize me. And if he recognizes me please don't let him say anything about it. Thank you! And plentiful harvest, lovingly grow! Amen." Peeking between her fingers she tries to get a good look at him. Has she heard of him, on the festival circuit, or in -- gulp -- hell?

Shemush's rules sound strikingly like the ones for getting safely out of hell. Don't look back, especially at any dead lovers you might be towing behind you. Don't eat or drink, particularly pomegranates. And don't take anything with you, or you'll find you've agreed to a pact you never intended, just because you picked up an interesting rock and said you'd like to take it home! Oh, hell is tricky. But she's used to gotcha rules. She actually loves rules; they make you feel so safe. Follow them, and you don't usually get churned into a lemure ditch!

"What are the rules, please, Mr. Batman?" she pipes up, with a smile and nod to Shemush, one hand still partially over her face. "I'm sure we must obey rules if we are to survive the perils? Please?"

OOC

Action: Religion check: 5+2
Character sheet. ]

AnotherDragoon

The light slowly diminished as Stagger Lee scanned the shadows ahead wondering when the bandit chief, or rival swordsmen, might step out and issue their challenge. It looked like a trap. No succulent meals, decadent sweets, or heady brews to be seen! It didn't even smell subterranean. Still, it was interesting. So they walked on, to see what they would find.

He stopped when the passageway opened up. Surely, if anything were going to happen, this would be where. He was about to whisper as much to the others when the dark was sundered in six places by towers of flame. Lee instinctually went to cover his drink when the fires began to crackle and exclaimed to the roaring figure across the way, "Hey, there's a beverage h-," before he realized his hand was empty. Relaxing his stance, he could fully take in the rounded room now that it had been illuminated and still, no famed food to be seen. However, all the implements needed to create a feast were neatly arranged in triplicate. Strange, was this legendary fare going to be prepared before their eyes by this large devil in the impressive hat? Or was this an extremely elaborate ruse?

Their winged host introduced himself as Bakto and informed them they would be challenged. Well, that was mostly why they came, wasn't it? Heroic perils aside, it was the wondrous prizes and true legends they sought. Perhaps he would finally find a worthy liquor that would pay his honor debt and let him rejoin his brothers. Then he could drink it all in front of them and see if all of them could still beat him. The thought made Lee chuckle. Foolish, the memory of a master's voice chided.

Stagger Lee stepped forward with Shemush and the others, nodding to their glances. Rules, teams, all good questions. He should probably say something too.

"Onward is the path
For these five who must walk it
Come whatever may."

He bowed slightly as he'd been trained, with a flat palm over a closed fist, and watched this Bakto devil. Was he being genuine, or was there something more malevolent behind the exuberance? Ignoring the whole devil thing, of course.

Moving Parts

Actions
Location:
Action: Insight on if Bakto is for reals: 6 lol
Extra Attack:
Bonus Action:
Reaction:
Condition:

Rolls
Saves:
Checks:
Actions:

Cruncy Bits

Stagger Lee
Half-Elf | Monk 6 (Way of Drunken Master) | Proficiency: +3 | Initiative: +3
AC: 16 | HP: 45/45 | Saves: STR +4 DEX +6 CON +2 INT +0 WIS +3 CHA +0
Passive Perception/Investigation/Insight: 16/10/13 | Speed: 45
Darkvision:60 feet | Fey Ancestry: Advantage on Saves against being charmed, can't be put to sleep magically
Unarmored Defense: without armor or a shield AC = 10 + Dex mod + Wis mod
Martial Arts: | d6 | While unarmored, unarmed, and shieldless (or wielding monk weapons) can use Dex instead of Str for attack and damage rolls, use martial arts die for damage, can make 1 unarmed strike as a bonus action after an attack action
Ki-Empowered Strikes: Unarmed strikes count as Magical for the purpose of resistance and immunity
Ki Points: DC 14 | [ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ] / Short Rest
Flurry of Blows: After an attack action, may spend 1 Ki point to do 2 unarmed strikes as a Bonus Action
Drunken Technique: When using Flurry of Blows, gain benefit of Disengage and walking speed +10' until end of turn
Patient Defense: May spend 1 Ki point to Dodge as Bonus Action this turn
Step of the Wind: May spend 1 Ki point to Disengage or Dash as a Bonus Action this turn, jump distance doubled
Unarmored Movement: +15' while unarmored and shieldless
Deflect Missiles: May use reaction to deflect or catch the missile when hit by a ranged weapon attack, damage taken is reduced by 1d10+9, if damage is reduced to 0 as long as a hand is free may spend 1 Ki point to make a ranged weapon attack (as aa monk weapon) with a range of 20/60
Slow Fall: Use reaction to reduce any falling damage by 30
Stunning Strike: When a melee weapon attack hits may spend 1 Ki point to stun target until end of my next turn if failed DC 14 Con Save
Tpisy Sway: Can stand from Prone with 5' movement. When missed with a melee attack may spend 1 Ki point as a reaction to hit a creature other than the attacker within 5'
Attuned:
DM Inspiration:
Consumables: 2 potions of Healing, 2 Antitoxin
Cash Monies: 1550 Gold
Carrying:

Wynamoinen

The adventurers are food-obsessed weirdos, each in their own unique way. But most are also versed in either the infernal or scholarly lore. Bakto does not share details about himself, but there is much to glean, all the same.

He is huge and winged. But multiple party members immediately put their finger on an important distinction: pit fiend, yes; balor, no. Bakto, one can expect, will adhere to any oaths or promises made. Cori, from between her fingers, doesn't recognize their host. Luckily for her, his attention never lingers on her unduly - it appears the non-recognition is mutual. Friiiinnnnd correctly puts his finger on the fact that Bakto is not from a cold plane.

Piccalo, by pure coincidence, has a line of intelligence. A few years ago, the baker was researching a particular smoked hot pepper, rumored to be from Plegethos. Delving into the lore of that plane, there was mention of a general of Fierna by the name of Bakto, who was deemed insufficiently dedicated to the blood war, and was cast out. This likely happened many human generations ago.

Hearing an affirmative from multiple adventurers, Bakto continues his recitation. The speech is well-rehearsed, but he shows a heartfelt dedication to its message. "You have just one task! Listen carefully. What I want to be served right now..." He pauses for a moment to think, then nods and continues, ...is a meal that is POLARIZING and NOSTALGIC. Yes."

"If you can please me with a meal of that kind, then you will get two kinds of prizes. First!" he reaches behind a counter and lifts a small brass cage. Inside is a rather bedraggled and wary-looking chicken. "The Immortal Hen!" Bakto pauses for the obligatory ooohs and aaahs.

"Second!" he spreads out his hands slowly, indicating that the viewers should look around them. The four darkened passages light up with torches, just as the Kitchen Arena did. "You can keep anything you find in my culinary dungeon! And you'll NEED to go searching. All the tools you need to cook are here. But none of the ingredients. For those, you'll need to search! The ingredients for my nostalgic, polarizing meal can be found down those passages. Anything you could want is SOMEWHERE in there."

"But! You won't have time to find anything and everything." He turns at the waist and points above his throne. Two torches light, each flanking a large circle that at first appears to be a clock. But there are two differences: the face counts to 20, not 12. And there is only one hand, not two. "You'll only have 20 turns to find what you need and cook the food!"

So far, Bakto has maintained his practiced patter. When Cane and Piccalo ask about teams, the smile briefly leaves his face. "Oh." he says, momentarily deflated. He looks around the group, as if trying to puzzle out the combinations. Then an idea comes to him. The smile returns. "You tell me! Will you be competing in teams, or as a group? If your team makes a meal that pleases me, your whole team will be free to leave with all the prizes I've promised. If you form two or more teams, then any team that fails to please me, I will kill everyone on the team. If you're all on one team, then if you don't please me, I will kill..." he strokes his chin and bobs his head back and forth, pondering. "3 of you. The rest of you will be free to go with any ingredients you've found, as long as you're not sore losers about it."

When Picallo asks for a stool, Bakto obligingly but silently points near his throne, where a few stools can be found nearby.

OOC

Regarding "turns": these are not D&D turns. They are time units unique to this adventure. You'll see how they work as we go, but they measure time to travel between rooms within the dungeon, and time to "clear" the rooms you find. There is a ticking clock to limit how many rooms you can visit, but within those "ticks" time is pretty flexible.

In case it's not clear, the various insight checks suggest that (1) Bakto does seem entirely earnest about this, and his devilish ancestry suggests he'll keep his word, when given. And (2) he does not intend to kill you ALL.

AnotherDragoon

This is unexpected in an interesting way, Stagger Lee thought as their bandit king Bakto explained his game, and exciting. Serve a devil a tasty meal, keep whatever they find in his dungeon, or fail and die. The wonders within must be truly amazing to warrant such a wager. But what did a devil even eat? All the tales would have you believe they solely subsided on flesh and bone kissed by an open flame and seasoned well with blood. Bakto is talking about ingredients, so that can't be completely true. What would be nostalgic to aa devil, something from the Hells? What might be polarizing?

His thoughts kept circling back to the Immortal Hen, however. It could not die. This was a sacred beast, separate from the great cycle of rebirth. What secrets did it know? Was the beast truly free from the circle, or solidly bound to it unable to ever escape? A shiver raced up Lee's spine, some secrets may be best left in the dark. Still, he felt compelled to help the bird.

"We'll all perform as one then," Stagger Lee spoke, "right?" It would collectively raise their chances of success, bigger teams equaled more ingredients and more pooled talent. Besides, he didn't wish for anyone else to die so that he could succeed.

But what would they create? Something spicy, something sweet, or perhaps both? Lee smiled down at his belt with all the special pouches that had transformed so many bowls of gruel into mouth-watering delicacies. Yes, he can do this. He brought out a flask and began slowly circumnavigating the room lingering longest in front of the four tunnels on the flat side while others asked questions or checked the equipment and tools. "This is real interesting, man." Could he hear any movement or other signs of creatures? Were there any particular smells more complex than the clean air they'd found so far? Did he get the feeling they were all similar, or wildly different? It would be good to know where they might be going before beginning.

Moving Parts

Actions
Location:
Action: Walking around the room, checking the 4 tunnels Perception: 16, Investigation: 5
Extra Attack:
Bonus Action:
Reaction:
Condition:

Rolls
Saves:
Checks:
Actions:

Cruncy Bits

Stagger Lee
Half-Elf | Monk 6 (Way of Drunken Master) | Proficiency: +3 | Initiative: +3
AC: 16 | HP: 45/45 | Saves: STR +4 DEX +6 CON +2 INT +0 WIS +3 CHA +0
Passive Perception/Investigation/Insight: 16/10/13 | Speed: 45
Darkvision:60 feet | Fey Ancestry: Advantage on Saves against being charmed, can't be put to sleep magically
Unarmored Defense: without armor or a shield AC = 10 + Dex mod + Wis mod
Martial Arts: | d6 | While unarmored, unarmed, and shieldless (or wielding monk weapons) can use Dex instead of Str for attack and damage rolls, use martial arts die for damage, can make 1 unarmed strike as a bonus action after an attack action
Ki-Empowered Strikes: Unarmed strikes count as Magical for the purpose of resistance and immunity
Ki Points: DC 14 | [ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ] / Short Rest
Flurry of Blows: After an attack action, may spend 1 Ki point to do 2 unarmed strikes as a Bonus Action
Drunken Technique: When using Flurry of Blows, gain benefit of Disengage and walking speed +10' until end of turn
Patient Defense: May spend 1 Ki point to Dodge as Bonus Action this turn
Step of the Wind: May spend 1 Ki point to Disengage or Dash as a Bonus Action this turn, jump distance doubled
Unarmored Movement: +15' while unarmored and shieldless
Deflect Missiles: May use reaction to deflect or catch the missile when hit by a ranged weapon attack, damage taken is reduced by 1d10+9, if damage is reduced to 0 as long as a hand is free may spend 1 Ki point to make a ranged weapon attack (as aa monk weapon) with a range of 20/60
Slow Fall: Use reaction to reduce any falling damage by 30
Stunning Strike: When a melee weapon attack hits may spend 1 Ki point to stun target until end of my next turn if failed DC 14 Con Save
Tpisy Sway: Can stand from Prone with 5' movement. When missed with a melee attack may spend 1 Ki point as a reaction to hit a creature other than the attacker within 5'
Attuned:
DM Inspiration:
Consumables: 2 potions of Healing, 2 Antitoxin
Cash Monies: 1550 Gold
Carrying: