Ohren can be seen moving around the Crimson Quarter. In the morning, as the sun rises, he gathers special leaves and vines to weave a basket. Upon completion of the basket, he packs clay around the outside of it, making a bit of a pot. With that finished, he makes a stand and fire pit for the basket to hang with. He gathers a large pile of wood and some smooth rounded stones. He stacks the wood in a square under the basket and places the rounded stones on a much larger flat stone in the center. He lights the fire and heads off to gather a few more supplies.
Ohren returns to the scene carrying a large bottle of water, some butter, potatoes, carrots, meat, corn, and a few pouches of spices from his homeland. With a knife, Ohren slices up the meat and vegitables into cubes. The cork on the waterskin pops as Ohren opens it and pours it into the basket, he adds the freshly cut meats and vegies along with it. Ohren takes two flat sticks and pulls afew of the stones out of the middle of the fire and plops them into the basket, the water sizzling as he does so. He heads off to his hut and returns carrying a cludgel and starts to stir the mixture. He adds the butter and a handfull of white powder from the pouch. Ohren smacks his head as he remembers something and rushes off, returning once again with large cloves of garlic which he takes the cludgel to and grinds into a pulp and adds to the mixture. He then adds a few secret spices to the concoction. He stirs the pot with his cludgel and pulls some of the stones out of the basket, returning them to the fire as their heat died down. He would pull some fresh rocks out of the flames, putting them in to replace the spent heat sources. The liquid would simmer as he rushed back to his hut once more, such a forgetful Angori. He returns holding a small bottle of some thick liquid that he also pours into the mixture. He stirs for a while letting the mixture get hot and thick.
The smells from the Crimson Quarter boreder on divine. The savory scent of garlic, meat and potatoes wafts towards town on the breeze. Ohren yells out over the Crimson Quarter. "COME AN GIT IT! STEW FOR ALL. IS DELICHUS!" Ohren brings out about 20 or so wooden bowls and a spoons and a much larger wooden spoon to serve with. He makes a bowl for himself and plops down seeing if anyone would like to join him.
"Did my own kitty ears decieve me, or did I hear you say 'Avalancher stew,' Ohren? Smells delicious." The small form and curling horns of Annaleigh can be seen approaching from the trees. She eyed the fae when she drew even with the males. She had been resting in her feline form in the shade of the trees, just out of sight and heard most of the conversation.
"Andaren, is it? I don't believe I've met you. Annaleigh of the Telamon Druid Enclave." She nodded to him.
Annaleigh took the bowl from Ohren and sat down, "Thanks, my friend. You made it yourself?"
She took a few mouthfulls of the stew. Ohen was right. It was delicious. She rested her staff against her knee as she continued to eat. Her eyes drifted back to the fae, Andaren. Swallowing the bite of stew, she asked, "Are you going to join us? I can promise the stew is wonderful and the meat is cooked very well. Not at all raw. I promise."
A sly, but still good natured smirk crossed her face as she refrenced his earlier comment.
"I am well, thank you." She nodded politely back to the fae, chuckling slightly at Ohren. An eyebrow quirked slightly at Andaren's question. She took another bite of stew, thoughtfully drumming her fingertips on the wood of the table. After a moment, she grinned, "I would assume Avalancher stew would appeal to anyone, granting that person didn't have a distaste for meat, veggitables, or stew in general. Or, perhaps, an allergy to garlic. It's just food, Andaren. It's cooked. It's seasoned. It's just like anyone else might make. Avalanchers are just not a very common source of meat. Try some, really.
"We doesnt always cooked de food... I eated dis one's heart straight outta its chest... It was delichus..." Ohren's face turns to delight as he reminisces that moment. The hunt, the kill, the slaughter and then... the feast. "You should eated more tings... deres lotsa stuffs dat are delichus.
Annaleigh chuckled with a slight shake of her head. "It's heart, right out of it's chest you say? Maybe I have been away from Angor for too long..."
She settled back to her stew, a slightly far-away look in place on her features. She ate in silence. The tiny Dregoth's mind had wandered back to her time with the the Bloodrender Tribe. They had well earned their name, at least in her time. The tribe was generations old. Blood and death was a daily fact. Hmm... Ah, yes, of course. How could I have forgotten... She mused to herself. Hearts were the specialty of Ammut. That was why she could recall no one devouring one fresh from a kill. Her cheif had never really allowed her near him, save to banish her, and hearts were reserved for him alone. Never the less, now that she thought about it, a good portion of her food had been un- or under-cooked.
Finishing her bowl, Annaleigh rose. She straightened out her skirts and dusted them off with a smile to Ohren, "The stew really was wonderful. I'll spread the word, but I'll be leaving for now. More exploring around town to do. Enjoy the food, gentlemen."
The little Angori took up her staff and turned away, walking out of the crimson quarter. Her sandaled footsteps were soft against the dirt and rocks and she hummed a tune as she went. The melody faded in the distance as she disappeared from sight.
Ohren sighs as the woman leaves the area. "Dangut... Well... dere goes de lady..." He begins pouring himself another bowl of Stew. Ohren stops for about five minutes. He quickly gets an expression of either an idea... or pain. He rushes off to the tavern for a few moments and returns carrying a few rolls of bread in a bag. He sets it down and starts dipping it in his stew. "Dats wut was missing."
Delvin wandered towards the Crimson Quarter a brow quirked and a nostril to the wind, inhaling the rich scent of simmering stew. His gut rumbled in the instant he recognized the scent, a deep gurgling growl. It was then he heard Ohren bellowing his invitation. With a happy little skip he'd progress towards the Angori chef, his grin broad. "Hail Ohren!" he'd say cheerfully, briefly glancing towards the crafted pot the Angori had put together, he'd point and with a sly smile he'd pose a question, "Can you promise there is no one I know in here?" he'd grin as he asked it, already helping himself to a bowl.
Andaren was walking around after breakfast when he smelled a warm aroma he searched for what was making the smell and he came across Ohren. . . COOKING. Andaren said simply "Ohren what are you doing??!?!