Amar Meets the Glutton - RPLOG
This is one of the beautiful, hidden rooms of the Twin Pillows. Soft light comes from low braziers and the scent of sandalwood and spices fill the air. It looks like Amar Widestripe of House Longtail has had quite the evening. A low table holds the bones and scraps of what must have been a sumptuous meal and the ample tiger lies comfortably sprawled on a plush pile of pillows covered by nothing but a small towel, wholly inadequate for the job. Three foxes, two female and one lithe male slip quietly from the room after finishing a lengthy massage and Amar has just lit a long, thin pipe. What an evening! Too bad Gavin had opted to simply turn in for the night. The bear's gentle snoring wafts from a curtained off area.
Not soon after the three attendants depart the room, a soft knocking heralds the opening of the door and the entrance of a small tapir being. He keeps his eyes downcast as he enters the room, and from his garment it's plain to see that he's a servant here at the Twin Pillows. He makes no eye contact as he approaches, carrying a tray of snacks and appetizers not too unlike the ones that had been served prior to the indulgent meal whose scraps are currently littering the low table. The young servant collects the remains and departs, as silently as he arrived, leaving behind him a clean table and a new plate full of goodies to eat.
The snacks on offer are as varied as they are indulgent. Spiced mixed nuts lay in a bowl alongside large cuts of fruit. Small dipping bowls with honey, caramel syrup and chocolate dressing are not far behind. A brittle of caramel nut chunks make their bed atop a bowl full of whipped and sweetened cream, and the air is filled with the aroma of cooked and spiced meat coming from a neatly arranged pile of ham and chicken pies, seemingly fresh out of the oven. Another bowl full of candy and sweetmeats has been placed alongside a small bottle of honey wine, special reserve. These treats sit there, wafting their delectable scents about the room.
Amar cracks an eye open to watch the servant go, then, as soon as the door closes, he heaves himself to his feet from the pile of cushions, letting the little towel fall away as he waddles over to the table in the buff. Not that there is anything to see with the combination of thick fur and over ample plushness of the tiger's flabby body. "Don't mind if I do," he says, seating himself on a cushion by the low table and helping himself to the treats on the table, delicately sucking sauces from his fingertips as he goes.
The delicacies are nothing like you've ever tasted before. Each of them is an explosion of flavour that simply seems to defy the natural taste of each of the individual ingredients. The fruit is as sweet as the honey itself, and the two combined are a treat for the eyes and taste buds alike as they glisten in the soft ambient light. The ham and chicken pies are of no cheap make, not only made of fine cuts of meat but spiced with something unidentifiable but immensely delightful to the tongue. One can only wonder what secret ingredient was added to these treats to make them taste so divine, like the finest ambrosia.
Amar gorges himself with wild delight and abandon. The Twin Pillows had been holding out on him! But none of that mattered now! All was forgiven with this incredible offering! "I'm never going back to that Freesword Inn again," he vows between mouthfulls of meat pie, "I'll send Gavin for my things first thing and have them brought here." He gulps and smacks some more. "Ah! And when I find the cook responsible for this, I will buy him away to make food only for me!" That though brings a smile to his lips. "And maybe bring those foxes along too. . ."
A throaty, rough chuckle is the unexpected reply to your openly voiced opinion. As you instinctively turn to the source of the sound you see a rather large and rotound porcine being. Two long tusks proudly frame the boar's snout, drawing attention to his warm smile and jovial, glistening eyes. "Such vigor. Such appetite. So many wonders have you been given tonight. Pleasures of the mind, of the palate, of the flesh.. and yet no satiation stops you from indulging in the pleasures before you."
Holding in his meaty hand, the boar is holding a meat pie not unlike the ones in the plate near you. In fact.. it might just be one of the ones that was there just a moment ago. He takes a big bite of it, crumbs flaking off and falling like snowflakes onto his silken kaftan.
Amar recognizes a kindred spirit. He also recognizes an intruder in his rooms! He heaves himself to his feet with an alacrity that belies his size, his fat belly jiggling and flaky crumbs falling from his soft, snowy white chest. "How did you get in here?" he blusters, putting as much authority into his voice as a lone, naked, fat being can. He scans the room, finding the door still closed and the window still barred. Gavin's gentle snoring still carries through the room, his sleep uninterrupted by the unexpected guest.
The porcine being keeps his affable smile. "Please, no need for such alarm, such rush. This is a place of pleasure and indulgence. Such commotion should be saved for the bed." The boar consumes the rest of the meat pie by sliding it in its entirety into his mouth, chewing it twice before sending it travelling down his gullet. "And as to your question, how could I not arrive here? With such a sumptuous feast, and a host that understands such fine living.. well, this is practically home for me." The boar smiles tuskily. "Come now, sit and enjoy your well-earned feast, on the house. Indulge! This eve you dine with Olloch, and I simply will not have you be left wanting. That is simply not an option."
"Olloch?" Amar asks, suddenly less defensive, "Yes, I think I have heard your name." He considers for a second, then seems to reach a decision. "You will have to forgive my attire," he says, waving a fat hand at his snowy paunch, "I was not expecting company!" The obese feline waddles back to the table to his interrupted feast. "Won't you join me?" he asks, "I also have some rather phenominal. . . herbs for smoking should that suit you better." He eyes the boar's finery, not without a touch of envy. "And you are right," he says, "I DO enjoy the finer things in life."
Olloch laughs heartily. "I wouldn't worry about the attire, I cannot think of a better way to celebrate this occasion." He stands up with surprising ease for such an obese boar, and begins to walk towards the table. A mere moment later he is next to you, and you are certain there is no way he crossed the space in between where he sat before and where he is now, he was next to you in the blink of an eye. "So I noticed." He says to your last comment. "I do have an eye for the beings that know to truly enjoy the panoply of flavours, scents and sensations this world of ours holds in such promise." He reaches over to take a piece of melon, and drenches it in honey before chomping down on it and swallowing it. "Smoke. Don't mind if I do." He sits next to you, his corpulent form draping itself over a cushion as he reclines.
Amar raises his pipe from its stand and takes a long drag on it, the potent smoke filling his lungs and mind with its haze. He blows out a grey-whit cloud and passes it to the boar. "A sort of purified ebon," he says, relaxing into the cushions and reaching for a bowl of glazed almonds with one hand and stroking his own soft belly with the other, "Very good for relaxing after a long day."
The boar takes the proffered pipe and places it on his lips, taking a long drag, his ample chest swelling as he pulls in the smoke into his longs. He holds it there for a moment, then releases the smoke slowly from his nose after passing the pipe back. "Mmmm... " He closes his eyes and leans back on the cushion. A moment passes before he leans forward again, collecting a chicken pie from the pile and biting half of it in one go. "Delicious. The herb, I mean." He offers. "It reminds me of a lovely place I once visited in Olispona. So many delightful things you can find in a port town, don't you think?" He leans over to the side, getting a bit closer to you. "Tell me Amar, have you travelled much across this Promise of ours?"
"No, my friend," Amar says, popping almonds one at a time into his mouth, as comfortable now with the strange boar beside him as if they had been lifetime friends. Or maybe lovers, he WAS naked, after all. "I have traveled all the coasts of Shralesta, and seen a few ports besides," he says, "But otherwise, I have ever had to bring Promise to my own doorstep in food and wine and beautiful beings." He takes another drag on the pipe before passing it back once more, holding it in his lungs and fat cheeks, then turning to exhale it toward the equally fat boar.
Olloch takes the pipe from you and places it to his lips, although he does not inhale yet. He still smiles affably as you blow smoke onto him, and it's at that moment he takes his own drag from the pipe. "Ha! Delightful. Why hunt for the great things in life when they can be brought to you." He says, each word punctuated by a billow of smoke from his mouth and nostrils. "I could ask no more of you.. well.. or perhaps I could." He passes the pipe back to you, his eyes glistening amidst the clouds of herb-smoke. "Continue to enjoy the bounty of Promise, my feline friend." He pauses, then adds. "For we are friends, kindred spirits one might even say." He grins. "Are we not, Amar?"
"Indeed, my dear Olloch," Amar says, feeling a powerful connection with the boar, "It is only a wonder we have not met before. I feel like I must have known you forever." The obese, purple feline has leaned close enough now to breathe in the potent smoke even as Olloch breathes it out, his mind filled with the pleasant haze brought on by the smoke and the incense and the more than generous portions of good food he has eaten. "That is no request at all!" he says, licking a dollop of honey from his lips, "As I seek and sell new curiosities, I always try the best for myself. It is the beauty of my calling."
The boar lets out an uproarious laughter. It's little wonder it does not awaken the other occupant in the room. "Aah, but we have met before, my dear. With every taste you delighted in, with every pleasure you indulged in. With every soft bed and stacked platter, you brought me great joy in your enjoyment, and thought we only just met in person, we have been acquainted for many years." The boar licks his fingers clean of the remainders of that chicken pie, and smiles at you. "We should meet again sometime, my friend, but for now you should answer the door." Just as he says that, someone knocks at the door into your room. In that split second of distraction, the obese porcine spirit is gone, in a flicker of one's eyes, the pipe smoke still wafting in the general vicinity of the space he occupied but a moment before.
Amar blinks, looking back from the knock on the door to the spot only a moment ago occupied by the Porcine Spirit. "It is a promise," he says, licking his lips. He takes a deep breath of the heavily scented air and heaves himself to his feet before waddling, still in the buff, to answer the knock. "Yes?" he asks, swinging the door open wide.
As you swing the door open you are greeted with by a well dressed iguana being, a young girl with a rather rotound figure. Despite her lineage she bears a set of rather uncharacteristic boar's tusks, short and stocky. She hands you a small greeting card, an invitation even, as you glance over the letters. An invitation to a party, to be held in a week's time at a manor in northern Firmament. The petite girl offers you a sultry wink, and without another word she turns and slinks away, offering you a perfect view of her hind as she sashays away with a practiced motion, like a runway walk.
Amar watches the girl go with obvious appreciation, then, once she is out of sight, gently closes the door. Alone again, he looks over the invitation thoughtfully. "Well," he says, stroking his goatee, "Who am I to pass up a party?" He scratches his thick belly as he retrieves his smoking pipe and returns to his cushion bed. "I shall need new clothes," he muses, "Something to impress." The fat tiger takes another long draw on his pipe, and blows it out, thinking on the lingering taste of the boar on his lips and in the air. "Oh yes," he murmurs, "Wouldn't miss it for the world."