Hunger No More

The kitchen is busy during the prep time before opening. The white, stinging lights reflect off the stainless steel surfaces with only the echo of the knife on the cutting board. You hear every chop as the blade passes through green vegetables with each stroke. The chef is finishing up the last batch and slides the cut produce into the bowl with one clean turn of his arm. Matteo Talase, the head chef, checks the hanging clock on the wall. //It's almost time.// He pats the shoulder of his sous chefs to take over as he prepares to step out of the kitchen towards the reserved dining area. The main guest coming tonight is an important man; the main financial backer of the restaurant is visiting. He does not often visit, but when he does, it's a very special occasion. He takes off the apron and gets ready to prepare the table and the courses. The chef wonders what drink to start off with. [[Something dry...|Sauvignon Blanc]] [[Something robust...|Tempranillo]]

He pulls out a large bottle of a special //Clarisse// Sauvignon Blanc enhanced with essence of melon rinds after fermentation. The dry flavor should accent the meal's flavor without losing the encompassing taste of the wine. //(text-color:"#B38DFF")[He] should like this.// Looking at the reflection of light on the bottle, the chef thinks back to his past. He imagines himself gazing towards the clear sky with the blazing sun as it overlaps with the dim glow of light from the bottle's sheen. slightly rubbing the neck of the bottle makes him look back at the table to place the bottle. //It's just a nice meal between friends.// He set the bottle onto the table and tends to the cart with the food courses. [[Greet the guest.|The Arrival]]

He pulls out a bottle of full-bodied Tempranillo //Monzón//, a well-aged vintage. The smell and taste are very intense and fruitful without an overpowering aftertaste. Very smooth. //(text-color:"#B38DFF")[He] should like this.// Looking at the reflection on the bottle, the chef thinks back to his past. His eyes see his hand briefly caked in dirt, clutching a thin arm of skin and bones. He closes his eyes and exhales sharply through the nose. He set the bottle onto the table and tends to the cart with the courses. [[Greet the guest.|The Arrival]]

The table is set with the ambiance of the room's lamp hanging over. The chef sees his guest inside and has the host take his coat to hang. They make their way to their table and take their seats. (text-color:"#B38DFF")["It's nice to see you, Matteo. How long has it been?"] The guest takes off his sunglasses and palces them on the table beside his plate. His stark, violet eyes stare at the chef. He takes the moment to look quickly at the silverware, running a skull-ringed finger on them. "Last I recall, nearly eight years." His response was frank. He gets straight to the point while uncorking the bottle. "It's not often you come by. When you do it's usually for a special occassion. So what is it this time (text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death?]" A short pause lingers while the drinks are poured. (color:"#B38DFF")["Well... I guess you can say it's time. I'm planning to pass on the job."] [[Ask him more.|First Course Drink - Retirement]] [[Ask him if he's sure.|First Course Drinks - Opportunity]]

(text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death] swirls the glass in his hand while taking an occasional sip between conversation. The chef plates the first course for them at the cart. "When you say you're 'passing the job on," I assume you don't mean a simple retirement." (text-color:"#B38DFF")["No." Death] savors the flavor and looks at the chef's reflection through the glass in his hand. (color:"#B38DFF")["It's something a little more permanent. I told you how long I've been doing this, didn't I?"] The chef thinks back on this. He first met him in a very desperate time. He saw himself lying on the hot, dusty ground. No food or water in sight. Some figure in black came striding it's way, swinging a cane left and right. "You did." Finishing the plating, he comes back to the table with two plates and another bottle. "To complement the wine. Cheers." Both men raise their glasses and tapped them together. [[Something with seafood|Stoneshell Crab Antipasto]] [[Something with fruit|Green Apple and Fennel Salad with Chicken Skin]]

(text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death] swirls the glass in his hand while taking an occasional sip between conversation. The chef plates the first course for them at the cart. "What made you decide now of all times to cash in that little plot of yours?" (text-color:"#B38DFF")["I've been around long enough."] (text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death] savors the flavor and looks at the chef's reflection through the glass in his hand. (text-color:"#431EB1")["I just so happened to have found a unique opportunity. Not unlike yourself, Famine."] He remembers that title all too well. Looking back, "You did." Finishing the plating, he comes back to the table with two plates and another bottle. "To complement the wine. Cheers." Both men raise their glasses and tapped them together. [[Something with seafood|Stoneshell Crab Antipasto]] [[Something with fruit|Green Apple and Fennel Salad with Chicken Skin]]

He serves four sets of stoneshell crab meat with whipped lemon aioli, all on thin slices of zucchini. Cutting into it, finely minced bell peppers, carrots and onions fall out between the layers of the meat. When they bite into it, the vegetables melt into the richness of the sauce, sweet but with a savory tang. The zucchini adds a good resistance and fresh bite. "How do you know this is the one?" (text-color:"#B38DFF")["To be honest, I was hoping to get you a little drunk before I elaborate."] He takes a large sip from the glass and continues eating. "You told me you tried once before. It didn't turn out well, did it?" The chef has a slow sip of his wine before he takes another bite. He knows Death's way of dealing with business. Coming off with a nonchalant manner, offering something with a condition. It's never anything too outrageous, just so overwhelmingly powerful you can't help but say "yes." When it comes to more "personal matters," he seems disturbed. (text-color:"#B38DFF")["No... The Black Death wasn't one of my proudest moments."] He said it with a bit of shame in his voice. The chef shrugged and got up from his seat. [[Prepare a roasted dish|Roasted Lamb with Shallot Gratin]] [[Prepare the savory dish|Chantarelle Sage Risotto with Pumpkin Frittata]]

Plates of green apple and fennel salad is in front of them. It's topped with shards of crisped chicken skin and swirls of peppered vinaigrette. Both take casual bites. The light bite of the spiced vinaigrette pairs well with the flavor of the fennel and the tart apple offering a mellow aftertaste through the spice. The savory skin is heightened by the spice and tart flavors spreading in their mouths. "I know you well enough to understand you want something. So what is it?" (text-color:"#B38DFF")["To be honest, I was hoping to get you a little drunk before I asked."] He says that with a small chuckle before taking a large sip. "You can't die from alcohol poisoning, so that's not really a fair expectation of standards. Hell, you can't get drunk." The chef has a slow sip of his wine before he takes another bite. He knows Death's way of dealing with business. Coming off with a nonchalant manner, offering something with a condition. It's never anything too outrageous, just that his persuasion is overwhelmingly powerful you can't help but say "yes." "I'll be in a more giving mood when we get to dessert." [[Prepare a savory dish|Chantarelle Sage Risotto with Pumpkin Frittata]] [[Prepare a hearty dish|Beef Bourguignon with Garlic Crostini]]

In a popular, upscale restaurant in a dense city, a skilled chef prepares a dinner for an old friend. His friend is no ordinary person. He is a longtime patron and financial backer to the restaurant. Something however is amiss. In the air, there is a tension that looms overhead that never really happened before. The chef's old wounds will ache, and memories will stir. [[Prepare for dinner|Dinner Reservations]]

"Right, time I get the main course." Death nods in agreement. The chef leaves the table and preps the next course. He lifts the silver cover off and pulls out a large knife. He thinks back to a time when (text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death] and him were together with a knife. Least to say it was rather bloody. He slices the lamb into even pieces, arranged on the plate in a row, drizzling on a green herb sauce. Alongside it is some warm gratin with roasted shallots and garlic layered in. (text-color:"#B38DFF")["Now this looks great."] (text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death] starts into the meal while the chef eats at a slower pace. He wants to know more about this little plot before the meal ends. The tender lamb spills warm juices as the knife breaks the flesh. The meat rolls off flavor with every bite, breaking apart as the sauce mixes in to perk the flavor with a touch of freshness. With the gratin, the layers of potato are warm, well-seasoned, and easily turns into a pillowy mash with each bite as the shallots and garlic spread crunchy bits here and there. "Death, we've been friends for a long time. I'm asking you this out of concern..." [[Is it necessary?|Personal]] [[Is this really what you want?|Truth]] [[Are you calling in a favor?|Death]]

"Right, time I get the main course." Death nods in agreement. The chef leaves the table and preps the next course. He lifts the silver cover off and pulls out a large knife. He thinks back to a time when (text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death] and him were together with a knife. Least to say it was rather bloody. The chef slides two slices of pumpkin frittata on separate plates. He then spoons two large, formerly mounds of mushroom risotto next to the frittatas. He drizzles herbal oil on top and grates with fresh parmesan. (text-color:"#B38DFF")["Now this looks great."] (text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death] starts into the meal while the chef eats at a slower pace. He wants to know more about this little plot before the meal ends. The risotto had been simmered in a rich broth of chanterelle mushrooms and sage, heightening the earthy flavor with creamy undertones. With the frittata, the smooth texture of the pumpkin melts into the soft, tender egg becomes enriched with the savory flavor of the mushroom. "Death, we've been friends for a long time. I have a few concerns..." [[Is it necessary?|Personal]] [[Is this really what you want?|Truth]] [[Are you calling in a favor?|Death]]

"Right, time I get the main course." Death nods in agreement. The chef leaves the table and preps the next course. He lifts the cover off the tray and pulls out a large knife. He thinks back to a time when (text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death] and him were together with a knife. Least to say it was rather bloody. The chef starts to slice thin pieces of bread along the tray and arrange them flat side as he dresses them with warm garlic herb butter. He sets out a blowtorch to lightly sear the bread on both sides, keeping it crisp on the outside and soft in the middle. He takes a pot out from the bottom level of the cart and lifts the lids to release a warm aroma outward. He spoons large pieces of meat and vegetables into plates with the bread spread on the ridges. (text-color:"#B38DFF")["Now this looks great."] (text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death] starts into the meal while the chef eats at a slower pace. He wants to know more about this little plot before the meal ends. The warmth radiates from the rich burgundy broth soaked into the meal. The large pieces of beef have thin slices of carrots, onion, and mushroom nestled in the crevices. When a bite is taken, the contents of the fork falls apart into a flavorful veil that spreads on the tongue. The flavor of the beef is spread as the richness of the tomato and red wine enhance the aroma and savory meatiness. The carrots and onion add a slight sweetness to mix and open the smokier flavors over the long cooking time. With the crostini, the bread soaks the thick broth into the tender white dough. The outside remained wonderfully crisp while maintaining that soft center in each bite. "Death, we've been friends for a long time. I'm asking you this out of concern..." [[Is it necessary?|Personal]] [[Is this really what you want?|Truth]] [[Are you calling in a favor?|Death]]

(text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death] looks the chef in the eyes, and then at the glass. (text-color:"#B38DFF")["Honestly, no. I just...have no other choice. I just wanted to have one last meal with meaning."] He takes a big sip. (text-color:"#B38DFF")["With one of the few friends I still have left."] He rubs the skull ring precariously and focuses back to the chef. (text-color:"#B38DFF")["Matt, you are my Famine, and my friend. I saved you from dying, but I need help from you this time. Help save me from myself."] He sees a familiar look in (text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death's] eyes. It's desperation. He knows that look all too well. He sees himself in those eyes. Dehydrated, frail, and battered with nothing to show but his ribs. He hadn't eaten in days and without water, wandering in a desert. There was pain. There was fear. There was a desperation to survive. "What do you need?" [[Pour the drink|Brandy]] [[Mix up a cocktail|Coffee Liqueur]]

(text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death] looks the chef in the eyes, and then at the glass. (text-color:"#B38DFF")["I don't, just that my hands are tied. I've tried to pass on this job before, but no one ever came close to becoming a good candidate to take over. I was the first. But I can't be the last Death. It's not too different for you if you think about it."] He puts out the glass in his hand towards the chef. (text-color:"#B38DFF")["Think of it like this. Being Death is like having this glass of wine. It's an important but fulfilling job. It fills you with suffering, anguish, and satisfaction when you end a life. My glass has been full for a long time. It never runs dry. I can have as much to drink as I want. I never have to ask, it just...happens." Death] takes the glass and drinks the wine in one large gulp, emptying it. (text-color:"#B38DFF")["But I can't keep drinking. I had enough and I need to stop, but the job just won't let me. I want to have my cup empty and stay that way. It's been too long, and I can't have do this much longer. I'm not supposed to do this for as long as I have..."] The glass shatters in his suddenly and Death looks at his hand slowly. (text-color:"#B38DFF")["Oh...sorry about that."] He has the shattered glass reform in his hand as it fills itself with more wine. The chef hears sorrow in his voice as well as a familiar look in (text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death's] eyes. It's desperation. He knows that look all too well. He sees himself in those eyes. Dehydrated, frail, and battered with nothing to show but his ribs. He hadn't eaten in days and without water, wandering in a desert. There was pain. There was fear. There was a desperation to survive. But for (text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death], it was a desperation to die while clinging to a sliver of hope that it will be his time. "I can sympathize with your situation." He looks to his side and considers what will be asked of him. "But what will happen to world without someone for all the dying? What do you do about that?" [[Pour the drink|Brandy]] [[Mix up a cocktail|Coffee Liqueur]]

(text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death] looks the chef in the eyes with a small smirk, and then at the glass. (text-color:"#B38DFF")["In a way. But do you see it as solid favor?"] He sets the glass down on the table and folds his hands. ["Look. I know this plan doesn't sound... well, all that good. I'm planning to risk it all and I would understand why you wouldn't want to help me with this."] (text-color:"#B38DFF")["If it all goes according to plan, everything should be fine."] The chef raises an eyebrow while he continues explaining. (text-color:"#B38DFF")["I'm tired. I'm tired of it all. I want to end it. But I'm not willing to drag anyone else for it."] "Except for your replacement." (text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death] chuckles at the retort. (text-color:"#B38DFF")["No, not even her. She's a temp. That's all that was ever agreed on. My plans involve forcing the hand of the //higher ups// to take this job off my hands, whatever it takes. So I need that little gift I gave you all those years ago."] (text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death] can see it in the eyes of the chef: a familiar sight. He sees uncertainty. He sees the uncertainty of life when so close to death. He sees an uncertain man, nearly a corpse so uncertain to live that he had to see for himself an answer. With all that uncertainty, the chef mustered a question to his old friend. "What will happen to everything?" [[Pour the drink|Brandy]] [[Mix up a cocktail|Coffee Liqueur]]

(text-color:"#B38DFF")["I need the knife. With that, I can start a chain reaction. But before that happens, it shouldn't need to get that far. Just make it 'seem' to get that far."] The chef looks to the glasses and prepares the digestif before dessert. With two glasses in one hand and a bottle of //Exodus Scorchstone// brandy in the other, he comes to the table and clears the plates. (text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death] is about to take another sip of the wine before it gets plucked from his hands and replaced with a glass of the brandy. It's swirled gently in the hand and the aroma rises as it gets warmed. "Sure. But may I ask why?" (text-color:"#B38DFF")["Why not? If you've been keeping it, it should have absorbed all the necessary energies of hungry patrons over the years. The feeling of hunger should be enough to break the seal."] He sniffs the strong aroma. Both men sip and savors their respective glasses. The aroma is incredibly unique and nostalgic. It smells and tastes of a strong wildfire; its smoke is notable to an environment that is dry, arid and desert-like. It takes him back to a time where a terrible feast would upon another. <span class='feast'>[[The Feast]]</span>

The chef pulls out the final plate from the cart. Removing the lid reveals a large, square pastry filled with cream: mille-feuille. Layers a flaky puff pastry are rowed with even rosettes of light and fluffy cream. Drizzled on top is a rich syrup made with a flavorful dark wood cognac, scented with notes of vanilla and almonds. With that same syrup soaks the marron glacé chestnuts to offer a deep richness that contrasts with the light cream. (color:"#B38DFF")["Going all out, are we?"] We recently received a shipment of particularly good cognac. I think this dessert is a good way to use it. Might even think about adding it to the menu. He tastes the dessert. (color:"#B38DFF")["Well, maybe you should."] The flavor blends so well in his mouth. The flaky pastry is firm, yet soft and holds the cream in every bite. The marron glacé offers a slightly bittersweet and nutty flavor than improves the vanilla aroma. (color:"#B38DFF")[Death] was satisfied. They both talk a bit more with the most recent events in their respective lives. They talk about clientele, new brands of alcohol, and some new employees. [[Finishing the meal|End of the Meal]]

The chef pulls out the final plate from the cart. Removing the lid reveals a small plate with a porcelain ramekin. The small dish holds a crème brûlée with a blackberry reduction sauce striped on top. The top holds a well-done layer of sugar, with a caramel crown of glossy sugar in the shape of a dome. (color:"#B38DFF")[Death] eyes the dessert and smells something he knows well. (color:"#B38DFF")["Ah, you remembered my favorite."] Blackberries are his favorite fruit. The dark purple under the golden cage was deep in color and had been like smoothed into a sauce that sheened like velvet. He cracks into the shell and a pleasant sound comes off the spoon. The creamy custard has specks of blackberry infused beads. The reduction spills over and coats the spoon. When he tastes the custard, it has a smooth and silky texture with the sweet and tart tang mixing in. It tantalizes his tongue with the tartness mulling over to sweet cream; flavor just melts into his mouth. (color:"#B38DFF")[Death] was satisfied. They both talk a bit more with the most recent events in their respective lives. They talk about clientele, new brands of alcohol, and some new employees. [[Finishing the meal|End of the Meal]]

The chef pulls out the final plate from the cart. Removing the lid reveals a plate with a small ramekin with a puffy dark soufflé protruding with a round, smooth and white mound of cold semifreddo on the side. (color:"#B38DFF")["This looks nice. Is it what I think it is?"] The chef nods and puts the plate before him. (color:"#B38DFF")[Death] puts the spoon into the soufflé and the warm smell of dark chocolate. He takes in the smell of the dark chocolate as it is a flavor associated well with death and darkness. (color:"#B38DFF")["At least 85 percent. Very nice."] He tastes the soufflé and it has the puffy and light texture run a rich flavor of bitterness and sweetness from the dark chocolate. When moving to the semifreddo, the flavor of white chocolate comes through. The cold, light and creamy flavor washes away the bitter aftertaste and cools the tongue. The flavor leaves a sweetness that isn't overpowering and refreshes the palette between the dark and white chocolate with each bite. (color:"#B38DFF")[Death] was satisfied. They both talk a bit more with the most recent events in their respective lives. They talk about clientele, new brands of alcohol, and some new employees. [[Finishing the meal|End of the Meal]]

(text-color:"#B38DFF")["I need the knife. With that, I can start a chain reaction. But before that happens, it shouldn't need to get that far. Just make it 'seem' to get that far. This is the last thing I'll ever ask from you."] The chef looks to the hanging wall ornament and then to the glasses and prepares the digestif before dessert. He pulls out a mixer stashed on the cart and then proceeds to mix up something strong with intense alcohol. He pours the contents into two glasses and walks the drinks over to the table. "I made this stronger than normal for you." (text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death] is about to take another sip of the wine before it gets plucked from his hands and replaced with a glass of coffee liqueur. The Arabian coffee syrup is blended with //Burning Ice// vodka and finished with a splash of light cream. The intense bitterness and light sweetness will make the senses strong to the hot flavor while opening the palette to rich, sweet dessert. When (text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death] takes a nice sip, he feels the strong alcohol rushing his lungs and throat. (text-color:"#B38DFF")["Mmm, I always love the food you make. I would be sad to see it go. I'll make sure the pay keeps coming for a while, but after that it's all on you."] The chef nods in agreement and continues to reminisce a bit until the liqueur is finished. [[A Time to Eat]]

Matteo Talase was meant to travel abroad to study in the culinary arts. Under unfortunate circumstances, he found himself among with others, kidnapped. He was the only one to escape to freedom, finding himself wandering for what felt like days under the hot sun and the arid and rocky sands without food or water. (text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death] was drawn to an opportunity. In the desert, there was an isolated cell of terrorists who unjustly murdered a group of kidnapped tourists. With the information he got from War, he found a good Friday afternoon to spend his time. Matteo found in the distance a building with sounds emanating from that direction. Weary but desperate, he forced his way to get there. By the time he does, he sees a dark-clothed man standing amongst a floor of corpses. Too exhausted to be afraid, he collapsed and could do nothing but watch with jittered eyes. Death took notice of the sudden intrusion but focused his attention back to bodies. (text-color:"#B38DFF")["One sec."] He pulled a long silver gun from his lapel and aims at a dying man, bleeding out his throat on the floor. One quick flash and all was deathly quiet again. He put away the gun and turned back to Matteo, slowly crouched down to his knees to get better eye contact. [(text-color:"#B38DFF")["Now you don't look so good. I don't recall you scheduled on the dying list today."] All Matteo did was beg with his eyes, focused on the man's violet eyes. No words could escape his dry throat. (text-color:"#B38DFF")["No, no. You don't have to speak. I am very fluent with a man's final words without the actual words."] That was an attempt at humor with a bit of condescension. (text-color:"#B38DFF")["From the looks of it, you're severely dehydrated, malnourished, and won't last more than 24 hours in this kind of place. I'd like to help, but I can't. Policy and all. The only thing I can do under these circumstances is just make the pain hurt less."] He pulled the gun out again and pointed it right between the eyes. Matteo spazzed to try and get away with tears rolling. (text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death] was amused by this reaction. (text-color:"#B38DFF")["That's good. You still have the will to survive. I like that."] He was nodding as he said so. (text-color:"#B38DFF")["I think I can help you, but it's something I can't do without your consent. You got to agree to it."] He put away the gun and pulled out a unique relic in the shape of an old knife. (text-color:"#B38DFF")["Take this knife, and you can eat. You'll find the strength to see you through until you find help. But if you do, you will become indebted to me. We can hash out the details later, but your needs come first. Just take it and do what you must."] He left the knife in Matteo's open palm and then stepped back to lean against the wall. Matteo would be separate enough to survive. <span class='feast'>[[CONSUME to Survive|A Time to Eat]]</span>

After finishing their drink, the men were ready for dessert. (text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death] was in a good mood, but the chef has a troubled mind. He had done so much for him but would have to help (text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death] do something he felt was wrong deep down. But (text-color:"#B38DFF")[Death] wants this to happen and would need to support it, no matter how much he objects. Is it for loyalty? Friendship? Or something else? [[Something decadent...|Mille-feuille with Cognac Marron Glacé]] [[Something familiar...|Crème Brûlée with Blackberry Reduction]] [[Something deathly...|White Chocolate Semifreddo with Dark Chocolate Soufflé]]

(color:"#B38DFF")[Death] gets up and thanks the chef for the meal. He waits a bit for the chef to make his way to the wall. Looking at the wall, he looks to the knife hanging above and removes it. He looks back on all the memories and all the hunger the cold metal has taken in. He feels unsure letting go of a wall decoration but has a sense that the uneasy feeling might grow in the oncoming week. It won't be his problem in any case. He flips the knife swiftly through his fingers while (color:"#B38DFF")[Death] gets his coat. "(color:"#B38DFF")[Death.] Catch." He swiftly throws the knife to (color:"#B38DFF")[Death.] Without turning his back, he catches the blade over his left shoulder, in-between his fingers. He slides it into his lapel and puts his sunglasses back on. "Watch yourself out there." Death responds with a simple wave of the hand and walks out. Somewhere in his mind, the chef has a sense of relief, but that only lasted for a moment. He looks back to the clock and sees he needs to prepare for the late dinner service. Lots of hungry mouths to feed.