Taint Brigade Potluck Party

[gentlecountry]

WHO: Barty and all the Wardens who can come, and their plus-ones
WHAT: Taint Brigade Potluck Party, bring ur own booze, or don't, whatever
WHEN: Mid-September, a good time for Harvest prices and celebrations
WHERE: The Gallows I guess?
NOTES: language/alcoholic content

The table was not the largest one in the Gallows. The largest table in the Gallows was an enormous monster at which a high dragon might comfortably have dined, and which had once served as the mess for nearly every mage in the place, long ago. That the original table now served as six or so smaller tables subdivided was not relevant to the measurement; once a thing is, even if you cut it into pieces, it remains that thing in the same way that a nickname remains, regardless of objections.

Some things just seem to stick.

Potatoes, for example. A mountain of potatoes, just like the ones whipped into a tall white peak in an enormous bowl at the center of the table. And next to them an equally impressive roast, which was once comprised of two thick-limbed nugs and goose, and which now consists of a platter of neatly separated dark and light meats, crackling with seasoning, and the nug-steaks slightly pink at the center.

There is a cake. It is amateurishly frosted with a griffon in blackcurrant jam. There is a bowl of pudding to rival the mashed potatoes, full of something sweet and whipped and smelling of wild strawberries and cream.

There is booze, oh yes, though only the harsh mushroom-based stuff Barty brews himself, doled out into suitably tiny glasses and arranged in a little crowd of future drunks.

And what did you bring, to the party?

<b>Name:</b> character name <b>Dish:</b> food they brought <b>Drink:</b> booze they brought

Comments

[gentlecountry]

"Here, you looks a tad bits ah, nervous, there," Barty interrupts Ashen's pointed lack of pacing with a hearty cup of what he calls mushroom wine, "Drinks that, you'll feel betters in no-time."

It does originate in fungus, of course, but what is in this cup is not wine. It is moonshine. You could polish boots with it. You could kill rats with it. You could drink it instead, and have a very fine night indeed.

"Seen you abouts, and all, but I don't think we've beens introduced. Bartolomeo Bjurnsen, Wa- Ah, Senior Warden," He sniffs at the slip, then takes a sip from his own cup, full of something not water, then offers his hand for a shake, "Out of Orzammar by ways of Antiva. Call me Barty, everyones does."