Post by Blitzfrieg on Apr 10, 2018 4:40:45 GMT -5
Octavia had to admit, Maethen was by far one of the most pleasant places she’d visited in recent memory. She was used to frequenting less reputable islands and commonly found herself looking over her shoulder as she found what work she could at dens of piracy. This island paradise was quite a change from that norm. As much as she needed to relax and would love to find herself in such a resort, this wasn’t exactly the sort of place she felt comfortable in. Primarily because she was a mermaid. Merfolk tended to draw a great deal of attention even in ordinary sorts of places....much less those expensive establishments that attracted the nobility. Regardless of the astonished looks and gawking stares the twelve foot tall mermaid received as she made her way through town, she found it considerably friendly. Suprise usually shifted to accommodation once she was seen to be a paying customer. No one in the resort city was willing to turn down good money. Besides, she got the feeling that Aityaia was the sort of island that saw all types.
Though she wasn’t there for the tourism. And she only had so much money to spend as well. If she didn’t win the contest she was here to compete in, then she would be in a considerably poor condition as far as cash goes. Indeed, as much as she let herself enjoy the vices available to her, she was in fact there to work. When she first heard of the upscale cooking contest and its cash prize she would have been hard to stop from coming. Regardless of the additional prizes of rare and valuable spices, the money alone got her eyes glittering with excitement. It wasn’t an enormous sum, but a small fortune enough to get her transport wherever she needed to go, and live comfortably for a month or two as she found work.
Her first few days went by in comfort and ease. Octavia took advantage of the amenities, spending a great deal of time at the beach letting her tentacles soak in the pristine sea water. There she received little attention besides the occasional hot-blooded young man curious about the giantess as she sunned herself. She rarely gave them much more than friendly words. The last thing she needed was to distract herself with some small person or another. The days passed, and the time came for her to get ready. And yet she still couldn’t help but bask in those windows of attention. Even if they were preoccupied with her more womanly assets. After all she was nearly twice the height of a human woman....that sort of scale differential came with certain....advantages. She would laugh at their jokes, play with her curly white hair, wink her one uncovered eye, and let them buy her drinks. If they wanted anything more from her, she had a multitude of means to deter their interests. One of her favorites was the almost effortless way she used a tentacle to crush a piece of driftwood, displaying the bone-crunching grip of her lower extremities with a giggle as if it had been a reflexive action. That had a way of sending even the brave few who courted her running for a more manageable type of lady. All for the best really. Octavia had bigger fish to fry.
Present day.....
“So you understand the rules of the qualifying round yes?” Octavia was being read a lengthy list of regulations by a wisp of a man with a long, pointy nose and a pair of glasses so thick his irises took up the whole lens. She yawned and fidgeted in place. She felt odd without her sword: Gurume, at her back. She didn’t even have her hooks. But it was a resort and she already drew enough attention as it was. It might look particularly disconcerting for a menfolk to be walking around with a giant blade and such deadly instruments. Fortunately the contest staff had gone out of their way to reduce her discomfort as best they could.
The contest was being held in a pristinely polished marble square around a massive fountain which featured a forty foot tall statue of a whale. Each contestant was spaced around the fountain equidistantly, with a fully equipped cooking station at his or her disposal. Each was facing outward, with a full thirty yards between them and an outer ring of food stalls selling everything from snacks for the hungry tourist, to fresh ingredients such as fruits, vegetables, and fish recently caught that very morning. Salted meats soaked in barrels of rich brine, and dried spices hung from racks filling the air with a delicious scent. Beyond the stalls a few yards laid an outer ring of buildings colorfully painted, opening into five radial streets that extended out into the city beyond.
“Yes I understand. We have one hour to prepare our dishes of choice using nothing but ingredients chosen from the vendors in the clearing. No interacting with the other contestants.” She rattled off the basics of the information that had just been droned to her by the contest director, who nodded satisfactorily and adjusted his glasses once she finished.
”Wonderful. So glad you could hear me from up there.” Octavia blinked. Did he just make a joke at her? She couldn’t help but smile. He wasn’t mocking by his tone, rather she suspected he simply had a rather dry sense of humor. The latter of which she could and did appreciate. He had from the beginning, seemed almost oblivious to her species, which as it would seem, was from genuine disinterest. With that he moved on to the next contestant. The director had four assistants, but that still left each to deal with four of the sixteen contestants each.
As Octavia prepared her station for the qualifying match she stole curious glances to the chef-next-door. He was a curious fellow, somewhat effeminate.....was it a he? Octavia couldnt’ be sure. But she wasn’t one to judge. He looked to masculine to be a woman, but the make up and earrings made her doubt for a bit. After a few more glances, she settled on a man. To the other side she found a shady looking fellow wearing heavy clothing that obscured all his features. The only way she knew he was a man at all was the massive, bushy mustache that was hanging out of the thick face-wrap that covered his countenance. She couldn’t imagine how he could tolerate the bright sun in all that wrapping.
Regardless, she turned her attention to her station. Three of her tentacles slipped one after another into the pouch hanging in the small of her back, their golden metal caps securing her instruments with a loud click. As the first came out a heavy, cast iron skillet almost two feet wide was revealed, then a heavy butcher knife of eighteen inches in length, and lastly a huge whisk comparable to a baseball bat in scale. Finally she reached back, sticking her right wrist, which was quite devoid of a hand, into the pouch. Where the wrist ended a golden colored metal cap matching the ones on the ends of her three rightmost tentacles was securely attached. While it normally had a gleaming, razor sharp hook attached, she could instead attach various cooking instruments of her own design. With a click, she attached a spatula and began inspecting her tools to ensure they were in good condition. They always were. She seasoned the pan every day, keeping up the hundred year tradition that had produced a beautiful and flawless cooking surface. The rest was sharpened, cleaned, and repaired or replaced as necessary, and on a consistent basis. As she finished her inspections, several of her tentacles reached up behind her, slipping off her brown jacket, replacing it with a large brown apron.
Oil warming, grill heated, and utensils at the ready, the mermaid was left with nothing but to wait for the contest director to begin the qualifiers in earnest. She was ready to get going. There was money to be had, and she would have it!
Though she wasn’t there for the tourism. And she only had so much money to spend as well. If she didn’t win the contest she was here to compete in, then she would be in a considerably poor condition as far as cash goes. Indeed, as much as she let herself enjoy the vices available to her, she was in fact there to work. When she first heard of the upscale cooking contest and its cash prize she would have been hard to stop from coming. Regardless of the additional prizes of rare and valuable spices, the money alone got her eyes glittering with excitement. It wasn’t an enormous sum, but a small fortune enough to get her transport wherever she needed to go, and live comfortably for a month or two as she found work.
Her first few days went by in comfort and ease. Octavia took advantage of the amenities, spending a great deal of time at the beach letting her tentacles soak in the pristine sea water. There she received little attention besides the occasional hot-blooded young man curious about the giantess as she sunned herself. She rarely gave them much more than friendly words. The last thing she needed was to distract herself with some small person or another. The days passed, and the time came for her to get ready. And yet she still couldn’t help but bask in those windows of attention. Even if they were preoccupied with her more womanly assets. After all she was nearly twice the height of a human woman....that sort of scale differential came with certain....advantages. She would laugh at their jokes, play with her curly white hair, wink her one uncovered eye, and let them buy her drinks. If they wanted anything more from her, she had a multitude of means to deter their interests. One of her favorites was the almost effortless way she used a tentacle to crush a piece of driftwood, displaying the bone-crunching grip of her lower extremities with a giggle as if it had been a reflexive action. That had a way of sending even the brave few who courted her running for a more manageable type of lady. All for the best really. Octavia had bigger fish to fry.
Present day.....
“So you understand the rules of the qualifying round yes?” Octavia was being read a lengthy list of regulations by a wisp of a man with a long, pointy nose and a pair of glasses so thick his irises took up the whole lens. She yawned and fidgeted in place. She felt odd without her sword: Gurume, at her back. She didn’t even have her hooks. But it was a resort and she already drew enough attention as it was. It might look particularly disconcerting for a menfolk to be walking around with a giant blade and such deadly instruments. Fortunately the contest staff had gone out of their way to reduce her discomfort as best they could.
The contest was being held in a pristinely polished marble square around a massive fountain which featured a forty foot tall statue of a whale. Each contestant was spaced around the fountain equidistantly, with a fully equipped cooking station at his or her disposal. Each was facing outward, with a full thirty yards between them and an outer ring of food stalls selling everything from snacks for the hungry tourist, to fresh ingredients such as fruits, vegetables, and fish recently caught that very morning. Salted meats soaked in barrels of rich brine, and dried spices hung from racks filling the air with a delicious scent. Beyond the stalls a few yards laid an outer ring of buildings colorfully painted, opening into five radial streets that extended out into the city beyond.
“Yes I understand. We have one hour to prepare our dishes of choice using nothing but ingredients chosen from the vendors in the clearing. No interacting with the other contestants.” She rattled off the basics of the information that had just been droned to her by the contest director, who nodded satisfactorily and adjusted his glasses once she finished.
”Wonderful. So glad you could hear me from up there.” Octavia blinked. Did he just make a joke at her? She couldn’t help but smile. He wasn’t mocking by his tone, rather she suspected he simply had a rather dry sense of humor. The latter of which she could and did appreciate. He had from the beginning, seemed almost oblivious to her species, which as it would seem, was from genuine disinterest. With that he moved on to the next contestant. The director had four assistants, but that still left each to deal with four of the sixteen contestants each.
As Octavia prepared her station for the qualifying match she stole curious glances to the chef-next-door. He was a curious fellow, somewhat effeminate.....was it a he? Octavia couldnt’ be sure. But she wasn’t one to judge. He looked to masculine to be a woman, but the make up and earrings made her doubt for a bit. After a few more glances, she settled on a man. To the other side she found a shady looking fellow wearing heavy clothing that obscured all his features. The only way she knew he was a man at all was the massive, bushy mustache that was hanging out of the thick face-wrap that covered his countenance. She couldn’t imagine how he could tolerate the bright sun in all that wrapping.
Regardless, she turned her attention to her station. Three of her tentacles slipped one after another into the pouch hanging in the small of her back, their golden metal caps securing her instruments with a loud click. As the first came out a heavy, cast iron skillet almost two feet wide was revealed, then a heavy butcher knife of eighteen inches in length, and lastly a huge whisk comparable to a baseball bat in scale. Finally she reached back, sticking her right wrist, which was quite devoid of a hand, into the pouch. Where the wrist ended a golden colored metal cap matching the ones on the ends of her three rightmost tentacles was securely attached. While it normally had a gleaming, razor sharp hook attached, she could instead attach various cooking instruments of her own design. With a click, she attached a spatula and began inspecting her tools to ensure they were in good condition. They always were. She seasoned the pan every day, keeping up the hundred year tradition that had produced a beautiful and flawless cooking surface. The rest was sharpened, cleaned, and repaired or replaced as necessary, and on a consistent basis. As she finished her inspections, several of her tentacles reached up behind her, slipping off her brown jacket, replacing it with a large brown apron.
Oil warming, grill heated, and utensils at the ready, the mermaid was left with nothing but to wait for the contest director to begin the qualifiers in earnest. She was ready to get going. There was money to be had, and she would have it!