Chapter 2: Trollskull Alley


As Ben is led into the kitchen, he glances around the space, taking in his surroundings. In fact, this seems to be the first time he's actually paying full attention to his surroundings since they went down into the sewers, including not actively noticing the weirdness around Durnan. He nods to the man as the innkeeper turns to go and just stands there for a second, his eyes closed, and he lets out a deep breath. Even though it seems like no one really wants the chicken soup he offered earlier, he's still going to cook some thing, or maybe even many things.
Opening his eyes, he begins to move, a quick golden brown glow encasing his hands as he Prestidigitates them clean before beginning to pull all sorts of dishes and trays out of his pack and set them out on the counter. That done, he reaches into a pouch at his waist and mutters something as he pulls out a potato, followed shortly by another one. Setting those on the counter, he swiftly begins peeling them before slicing them into thin strips. Setting the strips of potato into a bowl, he reaches into the pouch at his waist and pulls out a bottle of olive oil and a salt shaker, which he uses to thoroughly coat the potato strips. Once that is done he pauses for a second before turning to the trays and concentrating as he reaches a hand out towards them, a golden brown light tinting over them as he heats them up. He then begins to lay the potato strips along the trays, ensuring each one lies flat against the tray before reaching into his pouch once more and pulling out a handful of sesame seeds, which he sprinkles atop the potato strips before using an oven mitt to place the trays into the oven.
As those begin to bake, Ben reaches down into his pouch and begins to pull out yet more things, muttering something each time he pulls something out. This time he pulls out a bottle of soy sauce, a small container of brown sugar, a clove of garlic, a ginger root, a small bottle of cooking oil, and skinless chicken thighs, setting everything down on the counter. Grabbing a clean bowl, he begins grating the ginger root, measuring out a teaspoon and putting the rest back in the pouch before adding it to the bowl. Next he begins to quickly and expertly mince the garlic clove, scooping that into the bowl as well once he is done. He pours in measured amounts of the soy sauce, brown sugar, and cooking oil into the bowl as well, putting each back in the pouch when he is done, before pulling out a container of water from the pouch and adding some of that to the bowl as well, mixing it all together. He grabs a shallow bowl and places the chicken thighs in it before pouring the mixture from the bowl over top of it and turning it over, making every bit of it gets covered in the mixture before he leaves it to sit.
Turning back to the oven, Ben grabs the trays out of the oven with oven mitts and sets them on the counter, using a spatula to pry the potato chips off the trays, piling them up on a plate. Another set of golden brown glows come over the trays as Ben casts Prestidigitate to cool them down and clean them off, setting them off to the side and out of the way. Grabbing a pot, Ben pulls another container of water out of his pouch and pours it in, as well as a container of small granules of dashi, muttering "דָּאשִׁי" as he does so. He pours the water into the pot and shakes the dashi into the water, before setting the pot over a flame. As he waits for the pot to boil, he pulls out some tofu, which he dices, and 2 green onions, which he slices diagonally into 1/2 inch pieces. He then brings the plate of potato chips over and snacks on them as he waits, periodically turning the chicken to ensure it marinates equally.
Once the pot begins to boil, he reaches into his pouch and mutters "מִשְׁחַת מִסּוֹ" and pulls out a container of orangish brown miso paste, which he begins to whisk into the pot. Once the color of the liquid has evened out, he scoops up the tofu and stirs that into the pot, followed soon after by the green onion. He reduces the heat and lets the contents of the pot just simmer for a few minutes, stirring occasionally, before taking it off the fire as he finishes the last potato chip and pours it into a clean bowl. Casting Prestidigitation once more, he cools down and cleans the pot before setting it off to the side out of the way and pulling a spoon out of his pack. He uses prestidigitate once more to ensure the soup won't scald his tongue and then digs in, sitting down on the floor with his bowl of soup. Once he finishes, he uses Prestidigitation once more to clean the bowl before putting it away.
Standing back up, he pulls out a skillet and pours some cooking oil into it before setting it over the fire. Once the oil is hot, he prestidigitates his hands clean again and picks up the chicken, setting it down in the hot oil. He cooks each side of the chicken in the oil for about 5 minutes, resulting in a light coating of glaze, before pulling it out and setting it on a cutting board. He then prestidigitates the skillet cool and clean and puts it away. He then sets about cleaning up his workstation, scooping any left over ingredients back into his pouch and prestidigitating everything clean and putting all the dishes and utensils away. He leaves out a single plate, a sharp knife, and a fork. Having finished with the clean up, he cuts the chicken up into strips and smaller pieces, putting everything on the plate before prestidigitating the cutting board clean and putting that away as well. He then tucks into the chicken, quickly polishing it off before cleaning up the last of his dishes using Prestidigitation one last time and putting those away as well.
At this point it's been about an hour, and with a full belly, Ben finally stumbles upstairs to his room. Not having the mental energy for a bath right now, he just prestidigitates himself clean and strips out of his clothes, folding them and setting them alongside a necklace with a weird golden coin next to an oil lamp before collapsing into bed and promptly passing out. As Ben sleeps the sleep of the exhausted, the oil lamp gleams slightly with a golden brown light, smoke of the same color beginning to emit from the spout of the lamp. This smoke pools around the necklace for a good while, infusing it until it also gleams a slight golden brown before beginning to pool around Ben's sleeping body. The smoke pools not just around Ben's body, but also inside of it, being breathed in and out as he slumbers. Rather than choke or cough on it though, Ben relaxes, a slight tension that was present in his muscles relaxing as the smoke absorbs into him, his bruises fading slightly as he settles into an even deeper sleep.
Unlike the others who got up with the rising of the sun, Ben continues to sleep for another hour or so. By the time he wakes up, the smoke has completely gone, and he sits up with a stretch, pulling his clothes back on before pulling out a piece of paper and writing "Be Back Soon" on it. He then taps the side of the oil lamp and turns into smoke, being pulled into the lamp itself. The inside of the lamp is about 20 feet tall and 40 feet across in a cylindrical shape. There's a chair and a desk set up, and what we might recognize as a computer and 2 monitors as well as a microphone set up by it. Cracking his neck, he makes his way over to the desk and sits down, booting the computer up and getting things set up. Pulling on a pair of gold colored headphones, he clicks the mouse, and the webcam set atop one of the monitors blinks to life. "Hey guys," he says in a language that if the others had been around they wouldn't have been able to understand, "How's everyone doing today? Sorry I've been a bit absent lately, things have been a bit hectic. And unfortunately today might have to be a bit of a shorter stream, as I'm having a repairman come by later, so depending on when they get here I'll have to end stream. In the meantime though, let's get started!" and he beings to chat and game with his stream.
Downstairs the rest of his party sits, how long they're willing to wait for him is yet to be seen, but even if it's an hour or two, he still shows no signs of coming downstairs.