Hydaelyn Role-Players

A small platform was hurriedly placed by a pair of stout and sturdy Dunsefolk Lalafells in the middle of the Ruby Road Exchange. It was then followed by more accoutrements being hauled in--a table with a simple white cloth draped over it. Several pots and pans. A few crates of random ingredients, with tomatoes being the primarily visible ingredient.

Then, propped against the forward face of the platform is hung a sign, with two simple words:

"INTENSE PASTA!"

As the Dunesfolk hurriedly set up the stage, a small crowd of curious onlookers began to form. After the sign was hung, a pair of threadbare clothed Miqo'te females darted up the stairs onto the platform. Their bodies lithely moved to unheard music, arms and hips both beckoning more people to take in the spectacle. When the group was assembled to a presumed size, the pair spoke in unison.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Ul'dah! We proudly present! The brashest, baddest chef you'll ever meet! His eyes will take you captive, and his foods will take you away! He doesn't just bend the rules, he sets them aflame! It's time for...."

Suddenly, a male Miqo'te leapt from beneath the table, landing deftly on top. His skin was a caramel tan, his hair platinum blonde and swept back in haphazard and intense spkes. He wore nothing but a half-apron, a pair of garish wrist bracelets and a pair of knee-high boots with more leather straps than needed to keep them set to his calves.

He threw a fist into the air, clutching a ladle and roaring loudly into the sky. The two dancers froze, hands gesturing gleefully to him. From behind him, a pair of pyrotechnic blasts went off, throwing golden sparkles into the air.

"INTEENSE PAAASSTAAAAAAAAA!!"

The Miqo'te leapt down from the table and deftly landed behind it. He twirled the ladle in between his fingers a few times before setting it down as he spoke to the crowd, his arms gesturing wide, a broad, fang-toothed grin spreading across his features.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my open-air taste test! My name is simply Snarl, and I am here to WAKE UP YOUR MOUTH!"

With this, he slammed his fist resolutely on the tabletop. The pair of dancers reared back, faces wearing a look of oversold shock.

"Let me elaborate, friends...for too long, we've assumed dining to be one of two things--a quick bite while we dash to something else entirely, or some stuffy affair relegated to the overdressed heads of state. We-he-he-hell, I don't think that's right! I don't think that's fair! I don't think that eating should be quiet, I think it should be loud! Bold! INTENSE!"

The dancers whispered behind him. "Intense!"

"So that's what this initiative is about! My specialty is pasta and sauces. What's simpler than that, you may ask? Well, these aren't your grandmother's sauces, friends. These feature huge flavor. Bold spices. Intense heat. Unique meats and combinations that nobody has had the guts to attempt! Except, of course, for your buddy Snarl!"

The dancers both applauded giddily.

Snarl aimed his ladle, passing it over the crowd as he spoke to them challengingly. "So! Whom amongst you is willing to enter a new epicurean realm? Who wants to tear open a taste portal? WHO WANTS SOME INTENSE PASTA??"

C'kayah Polaali wandered out of the quicksand, leafing through the stack of letters in his hand. It was time to pay rent on the old NHSC office. Should he renew it? It was useful enough, and inexpensive. His gemcutter was nearly finished on the necklace that would replace the one Ezhara took up in Coerthas. One of the alchemists he was trying out had sent him something reminding him that the potions he ordered could be made in bulk at a discount.

He stopped short at the sound of a male yell, looking up at the spectacle in front of him. Snarl? He hadn't seen that particular chef before, but he had to admit the man had showmanship. A grin slowly spread over his face as he stepped forward, his eyes taking in the ingredients. The dancers behind the chef were attractice and coordinated, and they played their own part in the show, but their costumes were worn thin. Poor. That's alright, he thought, a hungry chef might be more eager to please. And a successful one might buy a pair of pants.

"I'll bite", he said, moving to stand near the table.

Snarl's grin spread wide and bright, and with a whisk of his ladle-wand, the pair of dances framed each of the speaker's arms, wrapping themselves around him to lead him up the stairs onto the stage.

"Hah! I KNEW there would be some truly brave and daring folks here in Ul'dah! A round of applause for this culinary trailblazer, folks!"

The dancers led the small crowd in a round of polite applause. Snarl began to place a pot of prepared water onto a heated stone and kicked open a couple of the ingredient crates as he spoke.

"So, good sir, what's your name, and what sort of experience can Snarl and his Intense Pasta take you? Are you looking to lick Dalamud itself? Or perhaps you're eager to try a unique meat treat?"

The chef knew how to play a crowd, that was certain. He had a natural charisma, and a showmanship that promised entertainment, at least. But the question, C'kayah thought to himself, was 'can he cook'? Ul'dah was filled with would-be chefs, some fronting large restaraunts, others master of only a corner of cobblestone. All dreamt of enduring fame, but most of them approached it without a real sense for what made food. Anyone could combine random ingredients and call it unique, it took a true master to do something memorable that worked.

He grinned at the half-naked chef. Snarl wanted his request, and he was of a mind to challenge the man with the least of dishes, the most humble of pastas. The whores of Ul'dah were fond of a tangy, salty, spicy dish made with olives and peppers. A cheap meal that could almost be comfort food if it were only a little more bland, considered beneath them by many of the shining chefs of Ul'dah. C'kayah loved it, just the same. It reminded him of his own early days in the city. Over the years he'd eaten many plates of it, some greater and some lesser. What could this Snarl do with such a dish?

"My name is C'kayah", he purred, sucking thoughtfully on a fang. "Your dancers make me think of Pasta Kaurwa, with olives and hard cheese."

Snarl's grin widened even more, if that were even possible. Immediately, he dropped a large bowl of what appeared to be a rigatoni-style pasta.

"Friends, this first arrival is a hard-working man. A man who doesn't suss about with the frills and foppery of a dining hall in the Chamber of Rule. He wants it short, sweet, simple but not boring! He wants!"

Another raised fist, with the dancers following suit as he roared out.

"PASTAAAA KAUURRWAAA!!"

The two dancers kissed each cheek of C'kayah and sauntered over to another table, assembling service ware while Snarl spoke. He unearthed a tall bottle of deep green oil, a small basket of rich black olives and a tub of brine, with a barely visible block of pale white cheese swimming about inside.

"Now, friends, let me tell you the first mistake people make when it comes to Pasta Kaurwa. They overestimate the salt content. Olives. Hard, briney cheese. Heavy, thick pasta. It all adds up to either a rich and satisfying bite...or being punched in the mouth by a salt block."

While speaking he began to break up the cheese and toss it together with the olives. He then lifted the mixture up, the slits in the bowl of olives draining the combined brine slightly. He then smelled the combination, wrinkling his nose.

"F'naah! Well...what, then, does Snarl do to cut this down? A couple of things! First--you add this oil. A special pressing I have procured of some of the finest, youngest olives. And then! Here's where we get magical...."

He reached down, pulling out a sprig of a curly, green herb. With a flourish, he brought the herb onto a board and ran his knife over it, milling it into fine flecks. He scraped the cuttings into the olive and cheese mixture, looking at the herb arrive at its destination with an awed expression, whispering as he did so, like incanting a sacred spell.

"....curly parsley...."

He then stood bolt upright, stirring the mix once more as he spoke. "Parsley, friends, is a leafy, fragrant thing. This style of leaf cuts easier, dissolves into what you stir it with and smoothes out the flavor of anything you add it without taking over. Consider it an herbal ninja!"

Just as he finished speaking, one of the dancers pulled the rigatoni from the boiling water with a strained basket, heaping it onto the plate that the other dancer held. The twin then sauntered over to Snarl, back arching suggestively at C'kayah as she placed the plate before Snarl. He gave the woman a wink before pouring the olives and cheese mixture onto the pasta. With a few deft fods, rigatoni, oil, herbs, olives and crumbled cheese danced together. He took up a fork, spinning it a few times before stabbing it into the plate like a victorious gladiator.

The twin dancers both took up the plate, sashaying over to C'kayah. One held the plate up, the other carefully taking a forkful of everything the plate had to offer. As they did, Snarl pointed dramatically at him.

"Now, my solid man C'kayah...eat! And tell me true--tell me if this is the comforting hug of a soft lover, or if it's the salt-riddled chef too bored by the order!"

The chef was right. C'kayah had to give him that, he was right about Kaurwa, with it's intense flavors. Many so-called chefs sought intense flavors by simply maximizing what is already there: salt; spice; garlic; heat. Their Kaurwa was noticeable, yes, but forgettable. Uninspired.

He smiled at the dancers as they swayed to another table, then turned his attention to Snarl again. He used rigatoni. An interesting choice for the intensely flavorful Kaurwa. The pasta would trap more of the sauce, but not more of the larger ingredients: the cheese, the olives. He grinned as Snarl spoke of the parsley - an herb many considered to be inconsequential. An ornament. Both Miqo'te knew what it could add to a dish.

Finally the plate arrived, borne by first one then the other of the dancers. He looked down at it. The sauce shining wetly in the afternoon light, filling only the ends of the rigatoni's tubes. Parsley flecks greeted his eye, the chef hadn't overcooked them, and they promised a green tang to the dish. The olives were small, and halved, each with it's own little cargo of sauce. He took the fork and bit. It was spicy, yes, as it should be but no more than that. The olives retained their unique flavor, as did the parsley. He could taste the salt of it, but it didn't overwhelm him, while the cheese added both a snap as well as helping to mingle the flavors. And last of all was the aftertaste of the oil: sweet and bright as a new day. He smiled.

"This", he said, gesturing with his fork, "is nicely done. You have an appreciation for food, and that's not something that can be overstated."

Snarl grinned widely, his fangs baring in the move, giving his face a strange mixture of danger and allure. He spun his knife a few times, then notched a cut into the forward-facing side of his cutting board.

"And that, friends, is how you make Pasta Kaurwa....INTENSE!"

As he spoke, the twin dancers moved again with practiced precision, leading C'kayah off of the stage and towards a nearby table. It had been arranged comfortably, with a simple long table, a bench with ample cushioning, and a half-canopy to shield against the sun. The dancers sat C'kayah down, signaling him and his plate of food to sit and complete his prepared dish. As quickly as they paid attention to him, they forgot him, dashing back up to the stage as Snarl spoke again.

He pointed his ladle challengingly at the crowd, scanning it over the assembly as his eyes flashed.

"Now then....who among you will come forth? Who's next?"

The dancers took up the chant: "Who's next? Who's next? Who's next?"

Curiously, Cliodhna walked further down Ruby road. Under her arm was a rather large package of clothing from Sunsilk Tapestries, she had intended to go home after but all the yelling and cheering (different than the usual ones) had got her attention. Someone particularly loud kept shouting "intense" over and over.

Nearing the middle of the street, Cliodhna spied the large crowd, the newly placed tables and stage, and upon it the dancing girls with an apparently shirtless....chef? Green eyes looked over her sunglasses with raised brows. Squeezing through the crowd-mumuring her excuses along the way-Cliodhna got closer to the stage, more curious of the show they were putting on than the actual food by this point. Though whatever he had cooked before smelled amazing by the lingering scent in the air.

As Snarl's ladle scanned the crowd, the bowl of the utensil fell upon a shapely figure making her way through the crowd. It froze, his eyes locking to hers immediately, like a pair of laser lights.

"You! The woman with the large bundle!"

It was at that point that Snarl's eyes wandered to take in her generous bosom. He smirked lecherously for a moment before recomposing himself.

"...under her arm. Yes, you, miss! Do you accept my challenge?"

As he spoke, the pair of dancers moved to the edge of the stage, leaning over, ears and tails lifted upward in anticipation as they stared, awaiting her response.

Quki relationship with Ul'dah will always be something of a love and hatred. She absolutely despises Thanalan, full of backstabbing merchants, distrust, and sand. By Rhalgr, the sand.


But then things like that come and Quki can't help but giggle slighty. She's carrying a bag on her back, travelling clothes and googles on her forehead. She got some pretty good coins today, for better or for worse Ul'dah always needed a...sellsword. Totally not a mercenary, right? Defend some mines, hunt some bandits, escort someone from across the desert. The whole sand is gold thematic sure is fitting but she digress. She just takes off her black googles, chuckling and raising her hand. This ought to be interesting.

Snarl's ladle switched positions, aiming itself to the Lalafell who raised her hand. He nodded and flashed what must surely be an award-winning smile at the volunteer.

"Ah! One rises taller than all around her! Please, come, come! And allow me to take you on a journey that only food can provide! Tell us, what's your name...and what is your desire?"

(04-29-2015, 02:50 PM)Steel Wolf Wrote: [ -> ]Snarl's ladle switched positions, aiming itself to the Lalafell who raised her hand.  He nodded and flashed what must surely be an award-winning smile at the volunteer.

"Ah!  One rises taller than all around her!  Please, come, come!  And allow me to take you on a journey that only food can provide!  Tell us, what's your name...and what is your desire?"

Quki shrugs, and sports a good-natured smile on her expression, walking closer. She can't say she isn't starting to have fun with this...

"Ququki Quki. And well...I want to try this Intense Pasta of yours!"

She finishes with a soft giggle, giving another shrug.

Cliodhna raised her brows lightly, her lips had been parted to reply but she had only gotten out a soft puff of air before the smaller lala had quickly spoken up. Chuckling lightly, she simply shook her head. This Ququki Quki looking like she's had a long day of travel and in need of something to brighten the day a bit. Besides there was no harm in waiting Shifting the bag of clothing to the other arm, she placed her free hand on her hip and waited to see what sort of thing would be made for Ququki by the overly enthusiastic chef.

Snarl gave Cliodnha a knowing wink and a sly smile, as if mentally telling her "You're next, cutie." His eyes then turned over to the Lalafell as his dancers took each hand and led her up on to the stage.

"Ququki Quki! A bright, cheery and song-like name! And so fitting a lovely creature as well! But of course, all Snarl does is INTENSE PASTA! But let me ask you..."

This time, he knelt down, bringing himself eye to eye with Ququki. His voice lowered to an almost sultry tone, though still not low enough to lose the crowd in his performance.

"Tell me where you wish to go. Perhaps a cool, windswept coast? The edge of a fiery pit? A comfortable, warming, cozy cottage? These are all experiences I can grant you with just a few ingredients and a bit of time, my dear...."

Well, whoever this one was, it was definetly a speaker. His mannerisms, voice, sheer control of crowd was impressive, and to put such a ridiculous in the paper concept as Intense Pasta, and to grasp so many onlookers was not small feat, after all...

"I would love the feeling of flying..."

She ain't lying. She's going to train Cookie to fly someday, you can write that one up.