Estaiya is embarrassed but happy at the first bit of news, but at the second bit of news she looks confused at first, then shocked, and then enraged. She mumbles a shy assent.

You all manage to calm her down though, but that causes her face to crumple and she looks like she is about to cry, her teeth grit in anger.

Your mother and father have dark looks on their face, but your father is silent while your mother speaks up, "That *@^% thinks he can speak poorly of my daughter!? And THREATEN her?? I'll take a knife to his -^@& and then we'll see what he has to say!! I'm going to --"

Your father puts a hand on her shoulder, his face pale at her ... choice of vocabulary.

Despite your age and tendency to spend drinking time with buddies, apparently there are some insults so vulgar that you've never heard them until now. It's incredibly uncanny, but also somehow very fitting - for your elderly mother, who was definitely a spitfire in her time, to be the one to inadvertently introduce you to them.

Regardless, it's clear that nobody is happy about Kuergrin's actions.

Your father speaks up for the first time, "I will bring it up to the tribe elders... I... I don't want to believe that we've let such a man into our village, but... well, I remember when he first entered... Jorgrim hasn't been the same sense. Nobody like him, son, but the fact that he is still here means... well I don't know, but there must be a reason. I'll talk to the elders"

Estaiya's fists are clenched, and it's hard to tell if she's trying to hold back her rage, her tears, or both.

Still, she hasn't said anything about stopping her hunting activities...

"Esta, look at me." Sigismund said in a soft voice. A lot of his anger has gone now, seeing his mother livid and his sister in distress. Someone had to be a voice of reason right, staying calm. "I know you're angry, and hurt. But you've done nothing wrong. This is all on that snake's shoulders. And look, it's not like he's ruined your reputation for good. Rogbart was set straight about you and believed the truth over the rumors. Others will too. At least we caught wind of this before something irreversible happened." He went on, trying to highlight the positive parts of this whole mess. He hated seeing his strong sister so hurt, so vulnerable. He hated that anyone could have the power to do something like this to her.

But for now, he needed to set things straight.
"But I need you to promise me, sister. promise me you will not go anywhere alone with him and his men again. I won't tell you to stop hunting. Just not with him. I need you to promise me. and I promise you, we will fix this as a family. All will be fine."

He then excuses himself and went to get Rogbart. Better to get him involved now, both as an introduction as a suitor, and because he had played a part in uncovering this whole thing.

Sigismund eventually manages to console Estaiya, but when he begs her to promise him that she will stop hunting with Kuergrin, she goes even quieter and avoids his eyes. If he pushes, Estaiya will end up muttering, "... Who else?"

Thinking back... until Kuergrin came, Estaiya always went out hunting alone... whether that is more or less dangerous then moving about with Kuergrin's ilk is questionable, but neither are good outcomes...

Estaiya eventually raises her eyes, steeling herself, "Only that bastard will accept me. What else can I do?" she seems really upset. Clearly, being able to participate in hunting is very important to your sister, but it's hard for her to find a group that will welcome her. It makes a sad sort of sense, you've never really heard of a woman besides your sister who wanted to go out hunting... at least not in Jorgrim.

Women from many of the Iderran Tribes participated equally in hunting, but for whatever reason when they assimilated into the culture of the Blessed Valley, that stopped being an acceptable practice. Perhaps it has something to do with your Wild Root tribe, who likely have different ancestarl customs, as they hail from beyond the Nadrek Pass?

"Of course others will accept you!" Sigismund exclaimed, grabbing his sister's shoulders and looking her in the eye. "The only reason people have avoided you is because of him. If others get to see what you're like, they'll understand soon enough that the rumors are empty. Besides, Rogbart and I would gladly go hunting with you. And I'm sure others would too, once they see what you're capable of and get their heads out of their behinds. If not, then it's their loss for not seeing how amazing you are. Just don't forget that some of us do see the real you, and love her." He went on, smiling disarmingly at her, hoping that his words got through. Once more he also felt his anger start bubbling up. How dared that snake bring such unhappiness to Estaiya?

Standing up he looked at his parents again, silently motioning with his eyes for them to take care of Estaiya. "Now, I've got some things I need to do. Speak with the elders, gather some things. I'll get Rogbart in here before I leave, so you can all speak with him. Get to know him a little better. Then when I come back later, I'm gonna cook up a feast for us. We're not going to let Kuergrin ruin our happiness." He said decisively, his tone brooking no argument on the last part. He then made to leave the house.

Estaiya looks a bit comforted by your insistence that all of this is Kuergrin's doing, but she still hesitates a long time before saying, "If... if there is someone else who will help me, I would - at this point - much rather even some novices... than that Kuergrin, and his useless men" some of the usual strength is coming back into her voice, which causes both your parents' expressions to relax.

As you are to head out, your mother and father each grab one of your arms, "Now, darling, you need to take the proper procedures to speak with the elders-" your mothers begins, while your father simply says, "Bring grassfowl... Baked grassfowl... That's my favorite." your mother shoots him a withering glare, and he shrinks back, but still looks at you and gives a determined nod.

The man clearly likes his baked grassfowl.

Your mother whispers sharply to your father, clearly exasperated "Quit thinking with your stomach, foolish man! Tell your son to mind his manners and be patient, like I have. We may be Wild Root, but none of us have elder status"

Your father just shrugs, "I figured he will just go ahead with it anyway. The youth are bold after all."

Your mother grits her teeth and before she can spit venom at your father he speaks up, and looks at you "Be careful, Sig. You are my only son, and while the elders won't banish you from the Valley over rudeness, you are by no means immune from castigation, just because you and them share WIld Root heritage"

Then he adds quietly, to the point that you don't even know if you imagined it, "Also, lemongrass... maybe some krigsalt.... definitely both" your mother smacks the back of his head and he rubs it sheepishly. Oops, he got caught

What are Sig's plans?

Sigismund took a breath, gathering himself before calling over Rogbart. Instructing him to go inside and get to know his family, Sigismund then walked to the elders' dwelling. As he walked he went over how to approach this in his head. A bit of nervous sweat dotted his forehead as he neared the house. He'd never had much to talk about with the elders. They'd mostly complimented his food at feasts, and he was fairly sure they had a decent impression of of him. But that was it. Unlikely to sway them much, if at all.

Shaking his head, Sigismund frowned and kept moving. It didn't matter what they outcome was. He had to help his family, and the elders had to know about Kuergrin's misdeeds and veiled threats.

As he approached the building, Sigismund stopped in front of the door. He inhaled and exhaled, nervousness suddenly overtaking. How was it that even now, with him being a man grown and one of the largest in the village, if not the largest, he still felt small in front of the elders' hall?

After a moments hesitation, he knocked on the door, and waited to be let in.

In only a few short moments, a pair of padded footsteps slowly meander their way to the other side of the door, before opening it.

A straight face with a generous grey beard, liver-spotted skin so sunken and tanned it takes on the appearance of burnt rawhide. One blind eye and a bald head that reflects the glaring sunlight over the blessed valley.

"...Oooh? Sigismund of Wild Root. It is a surprise to see you visiting the elder's abode. Why have you come?" his voice is creaking like a piece of old furniture.

The short and scrawny elderly man does seem genuinely somewhat surprised, but fortunately not hostile or frustrated in any way.

Sigismund recognizes him as Alvisdan, one of the several dozen Wild Root elders who lead the Blessed Valley.

Alvisdan slightly steps aside as he opens the door, allowing Sigismund to glimpse that at least a few other elders are convened inside. Most are not present, at the moment, however.

What is Sigismund's approach?

"I... need to speak with you and any other elders who will listen, Elder Alvisdan. It is a matter concerning my family's safety and perhaps that of the village." Sigismund said gravely after some hesitation.

When he was (hopefully) shown inside, he bowed his head in deference to each elder in attendance. He then stood ramrod straight and made his case.

"Honored elders, it all started earlier today. My sister came to me, asking for my help in finding her a potential partner. She believes that all men in the village are afraid of her, think ill of her, or both. I, of course did not believe that. I know my sister. She may be as rowdy as most men in a fight, but she does not seek violence, nor is she cruel. She is simply strong and does not back down from a challenge." He said, noting the elders' expressions before continuing.
"I suggested my friend Rogbart as a suitor, and talked to him about it. He too had heard bloated rumors about my sister's alleged violent side. As I made it clear those were lies, he told me that Kuergrin have been spreading them. Kuergrin, who also just happens to be a known cruel man, and the only one who is willing to hunt with my sister. When I confronted him about it, he made threats about how easily she could get hurt or worse when out alone in the forest with him and his men."

Pausing to take a breath, Sigismund silently counted to ten as well, reigning in his anger that had started to rise again as he recounted the events from earlier. losing his temper would not serve him here.
"Honored elders. I must ask that some kind of action is taken. My sister's prospects of starting a family, not to mention her feelings, have been gravely hurt by this situation. And I also think Kuergrin is a threat to my family, and perhaps to the tribe as a whole. He and his men are lazy troublemakers at best, potentially violent and cruel at worst. And he has more following him than I ever thought possible." He finished, leaving it unsaid what Kuergrin's numerical superiority could mean for the leadership of the tribe. It was definitely hanging in the air, however.

Alvisdan does allow Sigismund inside, clearly not overly pretentious. He is carrying a well-carved wooden cane, which he uses to limp back to his seat.

The other elders present are:

 - Kolga Hildebrandt, a middle-aged woman with extremely rare violet hair. She is a medical herbalist expert, with a fair personality. She is also a quite decent warrior, who uses a rare copper longsword.

 - Ingrid Oerichs, one of the most-despised elders, due to her vicious personality. She is a miserable granny, who is only an elder due to her self-taught poison concoction skills.

 - Sigurd the Ferocious, a battle-hardened warrior of middle-age who once slayed a powerful Savannah Lion with is bare hands. He has an unique flint dagger which has never cracked. He lost a hand in that battle, too. Fortunately, not his mainhand.

 - Ragna Whiteblood, a mysterious and quiet man. One of the youngest elders, not yet 30. He has a striking appearance, with vibrant red hair that he never cuts, letting it flow freely until it pools on the floor. It suddenly becomes stark white at the roots. His face is covered by his hair, but the rare glimpses that can be seen of his appearance reveal that he has no eyes. Not even scars where they should be, as if he was born without them. He moves with uncanny grace and is rumored to sometimes wield a strange weapon.

If only Ingrid were not here, this would be a very fortuitous audience. Sadly, the so-called "Wyrd-Witch" is present. The "wyrd" is an ancient tradition that has been re-emerging within the Blessed Valley. It is a sort of mystical approach to understanding 'fate'. "Wyrd-witch" in this context is a truly vulgar and horrendous insult, basically implying that Ingrid has in some way contorted fate itself in a depraved way. Usually, she is not referred to in such a way, as it is considered taboo to overuse the insult, even with good reason.

--

As Sigismund speaks his first piece, he notes the Elder's expressions. Alvisdan is unreadable, his eyes tightly shut as he strokes his wispy beard, Kolga seems concerned for Sigismund, Ingrid has a mocking sneer, Sigurd is stoic, and Ragna's expression is hidden beneath his ethereal locks.

Sigismund finishes his statements, and as he does, silence momentarily falls in the hut.

Soon, Alvisdan opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by Ingrid, "Ha? The little brat interrupted us with only this? Who cares, kick him out!" her voice is shrill and unpleasant, mixed with her cruel tone, it's extremely grating. Sigurd, Kolga and Alvisdan all give her unpleasant looks, while Ragna is totally unreactive, as if he isn't even present.

Sigurd sighs and speaks up, "I have no love in my heart for that Kuergrin. He is a dark man, and a coward. The present Elders already know my thoughts on that man"

Kolga snorts with a bit of amusement and speaks up in a soft, comforting voice, "Young man, do not worry for your dear family. Kuergrin knows better than to raise a hand against a member of the valley... Or to command his worthless manlings to act in his stead"

Alvisdan strokes his beard before speaking in a somber voice, "I don't know about that, Kolga..."

The two share a meaningful glance, and Sigurd also looks at Alvisdan with a bit of surprise. Ingrid is sneering, clearly not happy to be bothered.

"Please explain your meaning, Alvisdan."

The tanned, scrawny grampa nods, "Of course, Sigurd. You see, I was just thinking that a dog will be a dog, unless it is taught otherwise."

A light appears in Kolga and Sigurd's eyes at this, while Ingrid frowns and Ragna... maybe he shifted slightly? It's hard to tell, you weren't really focussing on him.

"Are you saying...?" Kolga's words trail off, but Alvisdan shakes his head.

"No, no, nothing of the sort. We made a deal after all, and Kuergrin is as welcome here as any other tribe... I just mean to say, that clearly a very minor issue has taken place. Truly, barely worth considering... " it is clear he is meaning something other than what he says, so you don't feel too bad about the way he is referring to your sister's safety, "So... why don't you let this old man resolve it?" a wide smile appears on his face, and one of his constantly-closed eyes peek open very slightly, revealing a dark yellow iris.

Sigurd clenches his fists, excitement flush across his face, while Kolga leans her head back with a smile and hums a little. Ingrid's eyes twitch for a moment before her expression returns to one of displeasure.

Alvisdan then turns to you, and offers, "What do you say, young man? Why not let this old man help... mediate... things between you and Kuergrin?" he has a softer smile on his face now... You are not dense enough to not realize he is offering to do you a favor. His fingers softly caress the end of his cane, and you get an inexplicable feeling of... danger? Not quite, but maybe something close.

What does Sigismund feel while witnessing this conversation, and how will Sigismund respond to Alvisdan's offer of ""mediation""?

"Uhmm... Yes?" Sigismund said uncertainly, feeling quite lost in the internal conversation the elders were clearly having. Shaking his head, he decided to ignore it for now. They'd agreed to help, which was great. Anything he hadn't caught was probably only meant to be understood by the elders anyway. Though he was a bit frustrated at the threat of Kuergrin not being taken seriously.

"I mean yes, thank you Elder Alvisdan. I would be grateful if you would help solve this problem. My family and I are most grateful for your kindness, elders." he said, bowing his head once more to each of the elders in turn. He didn't even pause when bowing to Ingrid, the old crone, despite her lack of care for her fellow villagers. Sigismund was honestly baffled about how she ended up an elder of the tribe. Age alone wasn't enough, surely? True, she was a knower of magics and secrets. But was that really needed? Sigismund always preferred things that were simpler. Like hard work, and food. He didn't understand magic, and he didn't really like it either. Best to let such things lie undisturbed, so as not to invite ruin.

Alvisdan begins to walk forward towards you with a satisfied smile, before Ingrid's shrill voice interrupts him, "Hey, old man! You better not be going back on our word!"

Alvisdan looks over his shoulder annoyed, "Why do you care so much, Ingrid?" as she begins to respond he lifts a hand at her, "Ah, and don't say anything about honor or reputation, we all already know yours is in the pit, where it belongs"

A hateful expression appears on Ingrid's face, and her eyes shine malevolently before she hocks a glob of pungent spittle to the side, causing Kolga to cover her face and turn away, and Sigurd to frown and furrow his brows.

She says, "Eat dung, you dog" before she stands up and storms past you both to the exit of the hut.

Sigurd and Kolga look aghast and angered by this show of huge disrespect, while Alvisdan looks disappointed and annoyed... Ragna's face is briefly visible... he seems... gently amused? Really?

Alvisdan shakes his head, and places a hand on Sigismund's shoulder, "Sorry you had to see that, son. Worry not about that witch, she makes a poor Elder." with that he begins to walk, and indicates for Sigismund to follow him.

---

As the pair travel in a straight line towards Kuergrin's hut, does Sigismund have anything to say before they arrive?

Sigismund observed the arguing between the elders with the sort of silent discomfort a child would feel when their parents were particularly angry at each other in front of the child. So he wisely kept his mouth shut and hunched slightly, attempting to look smaller.

When he followed elder Alvisdan, he more than once opened his mouth to ask what the whole thing was about, but thought better of it each time. There was clearly some kind of bad blood between elder Ingrid and the others. It wasn't Sigismund's place to pry.

Settling things with Kuergrin was more important anyway. So he focused on calming his mind and considering how to best approach it.

Sigismund justifiably decides not to say anything during the short trip.
--
As they approach Kuergrin's hut, the men out front seem to scatter, while a familiar but distant figure steps outside.
After arriving at Kuergrin's hut, Sigismund and Elder Alvisdan are greeted by a different sight to before. Now, no fools are present except Kuergrin.
--
(OOC: Switching Alvisdan's text to BROWN for this encounter, because it conflicts with Kuergrin)

Kuergrin greets you both first, "Welcome, Elder Alvisdan. I wonder, what has brought you to this humble place?" an insincere smile is clearly plastered on his face.

Alvisdan scoffs immediately, "Spare me the mask of civility, skulter (tl. ???). Why have you threatened a member of Jorgrim?"

Kuergrin's face slackens immediately, dropping any pretenses. His brow furrows in frustration, "Old man, don't pretend that's why you lot care. It's all about Wild Root, is it not?" Alvisdan snorts but says nothing.

Kuergrin gives you a withering look, which you likely return right back at him, "So, what do the powers-that-be want from me, this time?"

Alvisdan looks annoys but continues with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, "Fine, we'll do this. We'll forgive your past trespasses upon the Village Chef's sister; In exchange, meet us at dusk in three days to decide what you will pay."

It may fill you with a sense of warmth to be acknowledged in such a way... I mean, it's not really an official position, but it's true that you are easily the best chef in the whole Valley. It's nice to be called 'Village Chef' even if it's just for the sake of Alvisdan's argument.

Kuergrin is very unhappy but just shrugs and says, "Fine." in an incredibly stiff voice.

Alvisdan lightly nudges your shoulder but you feel yourself turning around right away... how strong is this shrunken old man?? You notice that the two of you are both walking away, but Alvisdan stops and looks over his shoulder, "Oh, right, one more thing. It will be Ragna and I you will be negotiating with this time, not the witch."

At those words, Kuergrin stops immediately, his breath hitching, and his face going (even more) pale.

"Hold up, ol- Alvisdan, that's... "

Alvisdan waves away his concerns and keeps walking. The old man whispers into your ear, "Keep walking. Don't look back for now."

Your body instinctually follows his advice, as even though you are almost twenty feet away, you can still here the sound of teeth gnashing and an... unexplicable pressure on your backside... it's similar to when you feel someone watching you... but much, much more severe... and unpleasant

It is difficult to keep walking, but Alvisdan's hand on your back doesn't allow you to stop. Your heart is racing uncontrollably.
----
Eventually, you two crest a hill and the feeling disappears.

Sigismund realizes his body automatically broke out into a cold sweat, without him necessarily knowing.

Alvisdan speaks up, "Hooo... This one is too old for such thrills, honestly..."

WIth that he creaks his neck slightly, and then turns to speak to you, "Alright, Kuergrin has been taken care of. Your sister is in no more danger, and neither are you - nor your family. However, don't try and prance around arrogantly because I helped you out this once." his scolding sounds like a strict grandpa, "What I mean, young Sigismund, is to avoid that Kuergrin in the future. You don't have to scurry around like a rat, just don't approach him unless he approaches you first."

Alvisdan looks off to the horizon for a moment, and you can both see the sun is nearly about to set over the western hills of the Blessed Valley.

Eventually, he speaks, "Life is complicated, child. Even in a simple and peaceful place such as this, us mortals can never escape the struggle of existence.... Ahem. I've bored you. Listen, what I'm saying is; It's better to forget what you saw today. Go back to the simple life, and allow us Elders to deal with any pestilences that appear in the lands, yes?"

With that, he sends you off (after waiting for you to say or ask anything else you'd like)... but as you leave, he interrupts you and half-inaudibly mumbles a few final words, "Ah... also, since I've helped you out this time... ahem, I mean, since you are so grateful... *cough cough* Next banquet... treat this old man... ahem..."

He appears rather blushed with embarassment, which is a funny sight, even though the day has not been funny at all. "Ah, nothing.... nothing... hm, do you smell that pleasant smell of Baked Urex... perhaps it is Thistleberry? Ah, it is wrapped in an aromatic wind of pie crust.... Oh, never mind, this old man must be losing it, hahahahaha"

A memory appears in your mind of the last festival, where you had prepared a delectable deep-dish Baked Urex and Thistleberry Pie.... everyone had been excited to try, but it had disappeared almost immediately, and nobody present would admit to eating it... now that you think about it, elder Alvisdan had indeed had a slightly weird expression back then... was it shame? No way, no way....

Back in the present, the elder's posture is casual and uninterested, but his eyes that track you as you leave are incredibly searching and pleading.... like a Sarvik addict...

OOC: Urex - a type of small wildcat-like beast that lives in the Iderran Wilds.
Thistleberry - a bittersweet berry that is poisonous unless prepared correctly. A highly acquired taste, that most hate but few cannot get enough of.
Sarvik - a lightly hallucinogenic weed that is often smoked in pipes or chewed. For some individuals, it triggers a Berzerk state and becomes addictive

Struggling to catch up mentally to the many things that happened in quick succession, Sigismund forced himself to focus on the elder's words.
He wasn't sure he liked that Kuergrin had been let of with a warning. And how did Elder Alvisdan know for sure that the snake wouldn't go behind their backs and threaten Estaiya again, especially now that he'd been clearly unhappy with what he'd been told about... well, whatever arrangement he had with the elders?

... Then again, the elders, Ingrid excepted perhaps, had never steered the tribe wrong or been anything but untrustworthy as far as Sigismund knew. Forcing down the uncertain feeling in his gut, he decided to simply trust the elder. Alvisdan was wise, and wanted what was best for the tribe. Both it's people, and as a whole. "I understand elder. I won't question you. And I already plan on keeping myself and my family away from Kuergrin. And I don't plan on spreading this around. I only wish for my sister to be able to walk around with her head held high and not have to feel undue shame." Sigismund said resolutely, nodding gratefully at the old man. He'd had enough violence and anger for a good while already.
In fact, he foresaw that he'd be sleeping deeply tonight, exhausted as he was starting to feel from getting so heated.

When Alvisdan hinted at the baked Urex pie, Sigismund couldn't help but chuckle. Nothing made him happier than the longing with which the elder spoke of his food. Seeing that kind of longing in anyone from child to elder was what made cooking go from a passion to a way of life for the large chef.
While he loved food, seeing others eat what he made with glee... There was nothing like it.
"Hmm, well I am a little low on dried Thisleberries, but I'm fairly sure the bushes should hold ripe clusters now. And it has been a while since I made a good meat pie... Yes, the next feast shall be Urex! Though I shall have to make double, I think, to make sure there's enough for everyone and the children who no doubt snatched it last time." He mused out loud to himself, hiding a smile behind his hand and glancing slyly towards the elder as he started back to his family's home. If against all logic the elder had been the sly eater... Well, Sigismund couldn't begrudge him that. The Urex had been very tasty.

The elder coughs embarrassedly, but cannot hide his happiness.

--

Returning home, Jorgrim is greeted by his mother and father. His sister, Estaiya is also in better spirits.
His father pats Sigismund on the back for speaking to the Elders, and is relieved things worked out.

Hopefully, this can all be put behind them now.

--

Eventually, after a bit more tea, everyone returns to their lodgings - since the family members live separately (except for Treiya and Goff)
Back in his cooking shack, Sigismund immediately collapsed into bed, and indeed, sleeps like a bear!

--

OOC: Side-quest complete! LEVEL UP! (jk lol) - Good job, though! That was really fun!

I think it's time we start moving Sigismund towards Abarion, what do you think?

I was thinking of having a caravan arrive at Jorgrim; perhaps a Ghanbaran royal that has been sent by the king to make first contact with the people of the village, and perhaps he and the Elders who will go travel back with him just so happen to be in need of a chef?

When he lay down to sleep, Sigismund  thought over the day's happenings. Really, it was a month's worth of drama and news in a span of hours!

Now, as he felt his eyes get heavy, he sifted through his thoughts and eventually settled back on what he'd started the day with. His gowing boredom with cooking. Sure, he had the new flowers Estaiya had given him, and finding the best uses for them would likely take a few days to a week. But then what? He would be right back where he started.

Frowning, he let out a yawn and considered his options. He couldn't wait for traders to come through, since they were sporadic at best. Maybe... Maybe he should consider going to the new foods instead?

Sitting up at the thought, Sigismund scratched his beard in deep contemplation. Yes, his sister and parents were safe, he had the elders' word on that. And His sister would hopefully get along well with Rogbart. Everything really was looking alright at home. Maybe he could take off? Travel to foreign lands and learn their tricks and trades. Perhaps even return with a host of new plants and vegetables they could try growing in the valley. With the stable weather they had year round, plenty of different plants should be able to take root, with some help!

Getting more and more enthused with the idea, Sigismund lay back, head filled with imaginings of new dishes he would get to explore. He would have to take it up with his parents the next day, and with the elders. Perhaps he could travel with the next caravan that came through...

Happily planning, the cook fell into dreamland.

OOC:
Yes, I like that idea. It's a good time to move him on, and the caravan idea works perfectly.

Days pass, as Sigismund grows bolder in his idea of travelling from the village. He had always been a bit of a homebody, but now he felt the call of exploring drawing him in, placing a feeling of anticipation in his chest, right around his heart (and stomach!)

Basic experimentation reveals that the plants brought by Estaiya are completely inedible. Figures. Sigismund stifles a half-amused laugh. Estaiya had no eye for this thing whatsoever, so really it was a game of chance on if a finding from her would be remotely useable. At least she had a good head, and so never brought him something she knew he already had (which was basically everything grown in the village, and then some)

At least it wasn't outright poisonous, this time...

Bored, Sigismund sets into a bit of a trance. Rogbart visits him once, and Sigismund is happy to hear from his brother (possibly in blood, in the future) that he has met with Estaiya once. Things seem to be going well, if a bit slowly and cautiously, Rogbart clearly doesn't want to rush things. If he end up explaining to Sigismund that things didn't work out, it will be after he gives it an honest shot.

The thought brings a smile to his face, but it is a dim one. In all-honesty, losing his passion like this has left him in a rather sorry state. He still functions, but everything in his life feels so much less vibrant than it once was.

---

A week after settling matters with Kuergrin, nothing bad had happened. Even isolated as he was, Sigismund would have heard about anything that went down from someone.

Just as Sigismund was once again trying to pull himself out of his funk, maybe going to visit Farra to see if she needed anything (and maybe to check out the new plant in her garden), a knock comes on his hut's door.

Opening the door without hesitation, the warmth and fragrant smells that waft from the cooking pot are pulled out by the cooler valley wind, which is fresh but far less flavorful.

Sigismund's mouth inadvertantly gapes at the figure standing at his door, before he remembers himself and closes it, showing his respects.

"None of that, young chef. I've come with a personal request today..." Elder Alvisdan subtly slurps his drool, so clean a motion that Sigismund only recognizes it because he is closely watching the Elder's face.

"Tell me, Sigismund, how would you feel about leaving the village?" perhaps realizing how his words might sound, Alvisdan interrupts himself, "Ah! Excuse me, I mean voluntarily of course." a playful smile is on his face. Perhaps this old man likes getting a rile out of people!

He then tells Sigismund about something he hadn't heard even a muttering about:

"You see, last night, something big transpired, and to ensure the future of Jorgrim, the elders have decided the majority of them will leave to the south. I can give you more details if you decide to accept my offer, but your part would be simple:"

Alvisdan gets to the main point, "Many of us would appreciate a good chef to keep the taste of home with us on the journey. You, obviously, are by far everyone's first choice. Well one person wanted to bring their son along, but nobody was putting up with that sh-" Alvisdan realizes his words have wandered and clears his throat,

"This would be a big favor from you, to us. Of course, if you ask me, I also think this would be good for you. It is clear to those who know you that you have lost passion in your art lately, and the Elders know everyone in the village, especially a prominent lad such as yourself"

Alvisdan takes a breath before finishing his request, "I won't make any promises, but there is a very high chance that on this journey, there will be ample opportunity for you to delve deeper into the art of cooking than you could ever do in this small place"

The mere words made his heart thump! For the chance to reignite his passion in cooking, Sigismund knew this was a great thing... His instincts also told him if he didn't take this offer now, he would regret it deeply in the future...

Calming himself, Sigismund realized something weird. It was weird to hear the entire Blessed Valley of Jorgrim being referred to as a 'small place'... it was surely bigger than any of the other tribes in the region?

Wait a minute... the south... could it be?
Had the Kingdom finally decided to make contact??

Sigismund swallows. If his guess was correct, this was a big deal. A really big deal. No, wait - a huge deal!
Calming himself for a second time, Sigismund prepares to answer the Elder's question.

What will be his choice?
Does he wish to ask anything else of the Elder?
What will he bring with him, should he accept?
Is there any last minute business he wants to accomplish before leaving?

Sigismund took his time to digest the words of the elder. Life was good for his family, Rogbart and Estaiya was getting along well enough, and Kuergrin was staying away. All in all, there was nothing besides his own doubts keeping the chef here.

And the potential to be part of a caravan making contact with the kingdom, and learn their ways of cooking? Perhaps even share the dishes of his home with the peoples of other cultures. Really, the more he thought about it, the more excited he got. Almost shaking with giddiness at the thought of a new world of food.

"Yes, elder. I would love nothing more than to join you. I long to challenge myself, to learn more about cooking!" Sigismund exclaimed, before blushing a bit at his enthusiasm. "Ahem... Yes. My family is doing well. And I wish to expand my horizons and bring new knowledge and tastes to the Blessed Valley. What would I need to do?" He continued, a bit more calmly.

---

After finishing his conversation with the Elder, Sigismund once more decided to gather his parents and sister for a family meeting. It was time to tell them of his decision, and hear their thoughts on it. While he was pretty much decided on it already, he would never ignore his family's opinions.

After calling another family meeting, the three closest members of his family all have different reactions from before.

Estaiya gives him a playful shove and says she's happy for him, also telling him he doesn't need to worry - they will be fine without him.

His mother is a bit melancholy, but says she doesn't mind if he leaves the valley, but he must promise to stay safe no matter what. She also seems to just be happy to spend time with him.

His father remarks jokingly that he feels like he is useless now, alluding to the fact that normally the eldest male in a family unit would be the one to 'call meetings' in this way (even though this isn't really any sort of official ceremony or practice) but Sigismund notices that the man is avoiding directly engaging with the idea that Sigismund might leave Jorgrim for a time.

It seems his father is the most nervous of the three of them, unless his mother is hiding it so much better. Estaiya truly seems unconcerned, but she is a fairly carefree person most the time, anyway.

Barring any further discussion with the family, Sigismund is able to head out.

--

On the day of the departure, Sigismund stands by the outer gate to the valley...

He feels far more out of place than he expected, but in hindsight this makes sense.

After all, nearly two thirds of the village elders are present as they board the caravan, which is comprised of a dozen incredibly fanciful wagons, led by armored oxen. Two of the wagons are filled with soldiers of an unfamiliar ethnicity, who don't speak a lick of Noric (OOC: Jorgrim's primary language, though others are sometimes spoken, such as Kadru, the predominant tongue across the Iderran Wilds).

They are also armed, Sigismund notices quickly, with weapons of a material he has never layed eyes upon before... It seems similar to the rare orange or green stones that are sometimes found by his people along the Iderran Wilds... he had heard those stones could be made into a material known as "copper metal" by skilled artisans, but only with certain equipment.

Some of the elders weaponry is made of this 'copper metal', but although the armaments of these warriors share similarities to that material... they seem different, and Sigismund's intuition tells him they are also more formidable in strength.

One of the wagons belongs to a lavishly-dressed man who is clearly the 'important figure' mentioned by Alvisdan.

In fact, Alvisdan and some other elders currently speak to the man, in Noric, the Language of the Valley.

Collectively, five wagons are filled by the elders of the village, two by soldiers, one by the important fellow, and three for supplies. That actually leaves one spare wagon, which it seems is what Sigismund will be using to travel.

Honestly, the whole situation is a bit much. The numerous pressures of these important people would cause a weaker man to wobble on his feet, but Sigismund steels himself and manages to stay put together. It doesn't help that many of the elders are showing rather strange expressions, clearly unfamiliar or even surprised by some of the things they are seeing, while others are better hiding their shock or are perhaps more familiar with what exists beyond the Wilds...

Alvisdan for his part, seems calm if a little excitable. Clearly, he was familiar with some things, but not others, but he is taking it all in stride, eager to explore... he definitely is young in spirit, despite his physical age.

Soon, the caravan is ready to move. Sigismund is aware of his duties: Prepare food to feed the whole caravan. Ingredients will be gathered as they go, but he is free to bring his own. Also, the caravan has plenty of simple staple foods, with which he probably won't be familiar with but can totally explore with in his own time, as long as he doesn't overly waste them.

It seems Sigismund won't be able to be introduced to the important man for now, as he seems eager to return quickly, clearly on a bit of a schedule

The journey will likely take a number of months to complete, and perhaps as long as one year.

A list of the elders who are going on the trek:

 - Alvisdan
 - Knut Asbjorn
 - Elder Tormod
 - Blue Sage Golan
 - Green Sage Ovard
 - Black Sage Hod Hak
 - Drannik Hildrebrandt
 - Kolga Hildebrandt
 - Sigurd the Ferocious

The remaining elders, who will stay in Jorgrim:

 - Ingrid Oerichs
 - Brynja Ravenfeather
 - Ragna Whiteblood
 - Lionheart
 - Elder Gustav

Having calmed and reassured his family as best he could, Sigismund spent his time preparing for the trip. When the caravan arrived, he was gobsmacked. Not only at the large number of elders that would be travelling with them, but at the foreigners and their strange, impressive weaponry and exotic wares and clothing.

While he was increasingly nervous and excited in equal measure at the prospect of the trip and the foreigners, the large man chose to simply focus on what he knew. He prepared his best cooking tools, and a large stash of dried herbs and spices native to the Blessed Valley. He needed to have them in case some of them could not be found outside the valley, after all.
He did wonder at how soon he'd be able to work with new spices, however, and if he'd get the chance to perhaps get his hands on cooking equipment made from the strange metal the foreigners had, or if it was even any good for cooking. Hopefully he'd get to find out on the road before too long.

He was looking forward to cooking for all these people. Though he should probably find out if there were things that they could or would not eat. He wouldn't want anyone to get sick or offended by him breaking some cultural norm. So he asked Elder Alvisdan if he could pass the concern along to the foreigners before they needed their first meal prepared by him, and then just awaited answers.

Alvisdan nods appreciatively at Sigismund's thoughtfulness and agrees to mention it to the important individual, who Sigismund learns is known as "Omid Durzami", though the proper way to call him would be "Nabob Durzami". Apparently, the structure of the Kingdom of Ghanbar (where they are heading to) is far more complex than the political structure of the Valley. This is fairly obvious, given the known manyfold size differential.

Still, despite a Nabob not being the highest, it is clearly not a position to scoff at. Sigismund doesn't have any more context than that, for now.

--

Later in the day, Sigismund is surprised when Alvisdan returns to his carriage (now outfitted into a sort of portable kitchen-on-wheels) with a shocking guest! Nabob Durzami himself is present, though as he arrives, he takes off some of his more fancy equipment and slouches back to relax a little. Perhaps Sigismund is offended or maybe relieved that the Nabob doesn't feel the need to keep up airs around the caravan cook.

The foreign VIP says something in that unfamiliar language, which Alvisdan repeats after just a beat to Sigismund.

"He is willing to answer a few questions you might have, before dinner tonight." it's weird to have an Elder act as a translator, but Alvisdan does have a way of putting people at ease around himself. Also, he somehow knows the language of the Kingdom... perhaps he has been there before? It's a weird thought, but the man is clearly old enough to have been plenty of places before Sigismund was even born... so, maybe.

Alvisdan seems rather comfortable around the man, which is a good sign, or perhaps a bit worrisome that Alvisdan is not taking things as seriously as maybe he should be.

--

What of his questions or curiosities - if any - will Sigismund propose to the Nabob (through Alvisdan)?

"Oh, um well... First of all, I'd like to thank you, honored Nabob Durzami, for allowing me to come along on this journey, and for allowing me access to the foods and spices you bring. Creating food and having others enjoy it is my great passion, and the opportunity to further my craft with ingredients unknown to me is a great joy." Sigismund started of, bowing his head deferentially before relaxing slightly. With what he hoped was proper etiquette out of the way, he could now start with his more burning questions.

"Now, I would like to know if there are certain foodstuffs, or certain ways to prepare food that are forbidden or otherwise frowned upon in your culture and that of any others in the caravan. Whether it be for health reasons, or cultural ones, I would like to be able to avoid hurting or offending anyone with my cooking. Secondly, I would be thrilled if you or any of your people who are willing would share recipes for dishes from your homeland, or simply dishes you enjoy. It would allow me to broaden my knowledge, and allow me to serve you food you will like, in case you find the dishes of the blessed valley lacking. I will of course also take great pride in serving you all the dishes of my home, and those of my own making I've perfected over the years."
After that tirade, Sigismund paused for breath, and to allow answers to be given. He realised that his questions had been entirely about food, and perhaps the nabob had expected questions about his culture or travels. But food was foremost in the cook's mind, as per usual. Besides, he would have time to learn of the foreigners as they travelled, surely.

The Nabob gives a half-interested nod at Sigismund's manners, clearly neither particularly impressed nor remotely offended. He seems unconcerned with propriety, for the moment. Though, the respect does seem to make him a little more approving.

After all your questions have been steadily translated by Alvisdan, and patiently listened to by the Nabob, he responds while looking at you calmly.

His voice has an interesting sound to it, unfamiliar but not overmuch. After a while, you can tell he also speaks in a rather noble tone.

Alvisdan translates the words as they are spoken, "No such limitations come to mind that apply to us broadly. However, be mindful that some individuals may be hesitant to consume anything highly unfamiliar, and also certain ingredients or preparation methods may not be agreeable to our stomachs. Overall, though, from what little I've seen of your people's cooking - it should be no problem. I mean no offense to you or your tribe, but as a chef you may have already noticed... a rather limited selection... in regards to ingredients that your people use. It is no fault to your hunters, mind you - nor your budding farming industry - they make good work considering what they have to start with... However, Ghanbar has a much wider variety of foodstuffs - from stronger spices, to sweeter fruits, to more overall more dairy production... the most unique thing your people have done, in my humble eyes, is their variety of methods for preparing wild meat... Honestly, I was surprised on the number of occasions I've tried Nodavik and Kasuum cuisine... I never could have imagined a way to make the feral, stubborn Urex palatable, but they did so with seeming ease."

The Nabob takes a breath, and so does a grateful Alvisdan. Perhaps it is a Ghanbaran thing to be so talkative? Or perhaps just something that arises from his important position?

Regardless, his words pick back up quickly (via Alvisdan):

"In terms of your second matter, I'm sure such opportunities will naturally arise. Specifically, when we stop for meals, it will likely be possible for you to attempt small talk with the guards or other nobility... though, I would start with the guards until you have a better grasp of the language... most important folk are unlike myself - they have little tolerance or patience for translation across a different tongue."

The man considers for a moment, before continuing, "Hm. I'm not entirely sure about this, actually. I feel a little negligent to leave you to your own means. It is difficult to learn a new tongue, and not really plausible in such a short time as this trip... Though this elder -"

Alvisdan points to himself and speaks in his usual tone - indicating this part is not a translation - "That's me!" he says with a rather youthful smile, before continuing with seriousness (the Nabob does not seem to notice the inaccuracy of translation or perhaps just doesnt care about such a small detail),

"- has been rather helpful to us both ... but I struggle to imagine he will always be available to translate for either of us. I have other means... but none that I can share with you... Hm. I am stumped. Perhaps, if I knew the guard better, I would be able to say with certainty if any of them have learned anything notable about Noric - but I fear it's unlikely... I recognize none of their faces, so they have not traveled with me before... I wish I could offer more help... but any curiositites you have will probably have to be sated when we arrive at Abarion - should time permit ... "

With that last clause, he looks to Alvisdan questioningly, but the old man shrugs. It seems neither of these individuals are exactly sure how long the caravan will remain in the city, nor how busy they will be at that point.

What kind of response will Sigismund have? Is he disappointed, grateful, excited, neutral, or something else?

"No, thank you Nabob, I have no more questions. Should I get more down the road, I will ask those around me if it is pressing, or simply wait for a better time. And please, if you would let the men know that I am more than willing to try my hand at dishes from your or their home. All I need is the recipe and ingredients, and I will do my very best to recreate it to all of your standards." Sigismund answered with a relieved smile. It seemed that cooking for the foreigners would not be overly complicated, and that he might even be encouraged to experiment if they were used to more advanced fare than that in the valley.

He'd have to introduce them to his Urex dishes, though. The meat being complicated to properly prepare was all well and good, but not knowing the sublime taste of a properly made Urex meat pie was just wrong!
Sigismund would strive to learn their language as quickly as possible, so culinary trade would be easier.

His mind made up and curiosity satisfied, Sigismund simply waited patiently for if the nabob or elder Alvisdan had more to tell him.

Nabob and Alvisdan depart from Sigismund amicably, skipping any final pleasantries.

Sigismund still has some time before he must begin preparing 'Lunch'. It seems he will be responsible for the three square meals in a day. This is a common culture overlap between Jorgrim and Ghanbar.

Though, the valley only recently adopted this idea of 'Breakfast'. For most of the history of the Nodavik people, the tradition was that one would wake up in the morning to hunt or perform other activities, then "Lunch" would occur after the hunters came back from checking the traps layed last night. It would be seasoned with last nights gatherings. - Thus "Lunch" was actually rather early in the day, though not as early as "Breakfast"

Their people for generations went most the day without eating, but would have a large meal at the end of the day, and then sleep soon after.
This was "Dinner", and it was made of whatever the hunters caught across the whole day, as prepared by the gatherers.

---

After Jorgrim was founded, though, the Valley blessed them by introduced Agriculture, which changed not only how they ate, but when they ate.
Now "Breakfast" was had sometimes - though it was considered optional - as "Lunch" did not always shift later in the day to accomodate.
"Breakfast" would be simply waking up, and throwing together some easily-stored grains such as bread or oatmeal. Sometimes, there would also be pieces of fruit - either many slices of a single freshest fruit tpicked for that very meal - or much more fruit, but coming from the fruit about to spoil that had not yet been used.

"Lunch" stayed the same, but sometimes was shifted to later in the day. When it was later in the day, it was more similar to the "Lunch" within Caerish culture.

Noric has words for their Lunch and Dinner equivalents, and later two new words came to be to represent this early-day meal of oats and sometimes fruit, as well as a new word for a late "Lunch" that was no longer about trap meat and gatherer goods, but instead was virtually identical to how the Caerish prepared Lunches - as a smaller feast of its own.

These words are:

Lunch = Mourengrot ('morning meal')
Dinner = Dasgrofa ('big feast')
Breakfast = Likgrot ('weak meal')
Late Lunch = Hudgrofa ('day feast')

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
(OOC: some other conlang stuff, just for fun):

Day = Hud
(more accurately translated as "The part of the day where it is light outside". A vague term that could mean from dawn to dusk, but generally refers to about 8 hours centered on high noon)

Morning = Mouren
(a more specific form of "Hud", basically just means the first hours after dawn (or whenever one wakes up, coloquially))

Dawn = Mourenhud
Sun/Solar = Skov/Skovel
---
---
Night = Morg
(more accurately translated as "The part of the day where it is dark outside". A vague term that could mean from dusk to dawn, but generally refers to about 8 hours centered on true midnight (the astronomical version, not the horological version))

Evening = Kveftin
(a more specific form of "Morg", basically just means the last few hours before dusk (or whenever one goes to sleep, coloquially))

Dusk = Kveftinmorg
Moon/Lunar = Synog/Synogel

(fun fact: Synog is the same word for "Eye" and Synogel means "Sight-based")

---

Caerish culture is not known to Sigismund at this time, but it has its own system.

Jakadim _{(present in both Ghanbaran and Sedoric, but Ghanbar practices this particular thing more often)} meal ordering is similar enough to both the Nodavik and Caerish traditions:

 - They have a breakfast which is a more legit meal than a Likgrot, but almost always lighter than a Caerish Breakfast

 - At any point while the sun is still up, one will probably have a Youmelik ('Day Rest') which is usually one to three hours, and often involves getting a meal.
(OOC: based off a mix of 'brunch' culture and the Siesta held in Spain (also a thing in Morocco, because, well, geography and history I guess))

 - There are two kinds of 'Dinners' in Jakadim cultures. early dinners, and late dinners. They have their own words, of course.

 - Early dinner is only viable if one had an early Youmelik (generally, the earlier the Youmelik, the shorter, but it can vary). An ideal 'Early dinner' is the highlight of one's day. It is meant to be filling, interesting, satisfying and exciting. It is something like a cross between a hearty lunch and a light dinner. It is not meant to make you lethargic like some heavy meals might, but rather it should give you the majority of your daily energy , and also satisfy in whatever ways it can - according to the means of your livelihood, and other circumstances and contexts.

 - Later dinner refers to a meal shortly before bed. It is meant to be a sort of 'final delight' for the day. One would never eat a Later Dinner while the sun is out. Later Dinner is for when you have stayed up late.

[OOC: Think steak and red wine on a late-night date, at a fancy restaurant, before you take a guy/gal back home.
Though probably not quite as heavy as steak if you're having it literally right before bed, obviously]

A later dinner varies mainly depending on how many more hours you plan to be up for. If you are going to sleep very shortly, it will likely be similar to a 'dessert'. Very much a 'final delight'. Something light and tasty.

If you are planning to have one more activity after this (yes, including that), or planning to enjoy this over an hour or even two while you let your mind relax from a particularly intense day, it may be more similar to a food item that stays palatable for that long (something which retains heat, or where temp doesnt matter) and a smooth drink, likely alcoholic

Generally, a later dinner is rich and has less complexity than an early dinner.
Also, dark colors. It sounds kind of silly, but it's true that darker colors are more common for later dinners than early dinners.

- It's technically possible to have two dinners, by this system. It's rare, but for the nobility it isn't overly unusual - just not a daily thing
- Generally , the term you use will be based on when you are having that meal. In cases where the time of day is ambiguous enough (say it lasts a half hour, but dusk comes particularly quickly on that day) Use the word for 'early dinner' is broader in definition, so if you only have one dinner (which is the usual), you would use that word - since it does not imply a 'later dinner' in the way that a 'later dinner' implies you have already had a 'early dinner'

---

With all that background (OOC: SORRY!), Sigismund is aware it is different while on the road.
He has previously been made aware there will be a 3-meal system, but its closer to 2.5 or even 2.01 if you're being spiteful

Because while travelling, most groups of any culture use a system which is basically a pale imitation of the Caerish system (three meals each day, and each of them are full meals that give roughly equal nutrition, and serve roughly the same purpose).

Caravans often get up at the crack of Dawn or as much as 4 hours beforehand. Then, they pack things up from the nights rest, and have a really pathetic meal before continuing the journey (usually, the least exciting thing is eaten first - like rations or oatmeal (if adding water from the nearby river to a pile of oats from the stuff you are using as oxfeed counts as oatmeal))

At some point midday, the caravan settles for a rest. The oxen also rest.
If a caravan was crazily rushed for some reason, they may not let the oxen rest until dinner, which means they will probably also skip lunch - but sometimes not if its feasible to eat while travelling on the bumpy road.

This point is lunch. You get to make a real meal here. This is the best time to experiment, honestly. If you do a bad job, people will complain about it all day. If you do a good job, they will be in slightly better moods because tehy ate well. they may even give compliments, who knows?

Once the day's travels are done, the caravan will stop for the night. They may set up camp with tents, or do some other process.
Dinner will be the meal they eat before bed. Keep in mind that most caravans take watch duty, so its customary to set aside something that will keep better in the cold nights for those on watch (who will probably be hungry after waking up in the middle of their sleep)

Depending on the culture of the caravan, dinner may be a mechanical ordeal where everyone takes ladels from a pot, gets 1 bowl, then goes immediately to sleep. No conversation happens.

If it's a jollier group of folks, dinner may last for quite some hours into the night, involving lots of banter and '2nd servings' from particularly shameless individuals.

---

So, overall, your responsibilities will change depending on 2 things:
1. The circumstances of each and every day. You may be told to skip making a meal entirely, if you are just gonna death march that day to make up lost time.
2. The atmosphere of the group. If they turn out to be a bunch of humorless veterans, they probably wont much appreciate anything... though even then, food is a great way to get into peoples hearts. If they are a jolly bunch, who know each other already, your food will have more of an impact, becoming the centerpiece that the late night communing takes place.

---

Also, it is totally common for the caravan to stop as many as 10 times a day, depending on how often the oxen need to rest and be let to graze.
These breaks are very short, and can range from lightly annoying for the people to something they all fear, as stopping this often means people need to be on guard just in case bandits appear out of ambush and try anything while the caravan is temporarily with its pants down, so-to-speak

It isn't really a thing to eat during these times... but who knows, a chef who prepared snacks is a chef sent by the Gods!

---

With all this information, Sigismund knows by default he will be serving 'Lunch' in some hours. The exact time hasn't been told to him yet, so he could get an early start (may be a waste of limited ingredients, should Lunch get suddenly cancelled) or wait for someone to deliver him his advanced warning.

Regardless, what are Sigismund's Lunch Plans? (OOC: this is a funny sentence to me, lol)

---

OOC: Okay, this was a somewhat weird post.

I think I did a bad job of deliver all this info (most of which was probably unecessary) in a way that wasn't so expositional that it almost braeks the fourth wall.

Overall, here is my hopes for this journey:
- We aren't going to RP the entire thing, obviously.
- My thoughts are that we could do it 'by day', where each post of yours would be what 3 meals you make that day, and I would extrapolate on what you had made - either explaining how people liked it or not.
- If this becomes too slow, we will do it 6 meals at a time, or we could just time skip if its all too bothersome
- We will probably avoid random encounters, except that I may throw some curveballs in saying "A MEAL GOT CANCELLED, WHAT WILL YOU DO NOW THAT DINNER NEEDS TO BE EXTRA LARGE?"

To explain a bit more:

Froggychum posts "Day 2: Breakfast, lunch and dinner are all going to be served!"

Sigismund posts "Ok for breakfast i make doo doo, for lunch i make pee pee, and dinner i go all out and build the death star"

Froggychum posts "Epic! People hate breakfast but dont say anything, people hate your lunch and become a bit antsy, but dinner BLOWS them all away (ba dum tsh)

Tomorrow, you will serve breakfast and dinner, but lunch is skipped because of bad weather!"

...

I did a really bad job selling my idea, but trust me it wouldn't be that stupid. I'm just tired IRL lmao

Anyway the main benefits of this are twofold:

1. You get to show off Sig's cooking skills. You do have limited ingredients right now (I wont say what, Ill leave it to you) but you can get more if you request to stop at small towns along the way. This will only be possible if you prove your skill (which will be hard with barebones ingredients, obviously)

2. Good roleplay opportunities, centered around food.
(Honestly, I'm laughing at the idea of you turning a bunch of hardass veterans into your sworn brothers with your demonic cooking magic haha)

The main issue I foresee:

1. This could take a long time. According to the map, the journey would be like 150 km since you are curving around the Sram mountains to reach the city of Abarion. This means we're looking at at least 10 days, more if delays happen (which I will probably avoid)

The main way to deal with that issue is if it goes overlong, we just skip the rest (maybe leave the last day so you can do something really cool as a 'final meal' and i can narrate the arrival into the city) - its a bit crude, but it probably works.

---

The very last thing i want to say (this is stupidly long, and not as high quality as I would have liked. Sorry, man)
We are not technically in Jorgrim right now.
But, you are not taking an official road.

So, I'm not making a new thread.

We'll just use this thread until another one is more appropriate

Most likely, that would mean Abarion when we get there, but maybe a town in the Sram mountains that you choose to stop at is worth gettings its own thread, to break it up a bit.

In general, I am very pedantic about organizing threads based on location. It's my favored way for two reasons:
1. Organization
2. It's flavorful to the lore to do it like that, I find

God, with all these lists I feel like ChatGPT...
ok i promise i dont use ai bye!