Only with self-approved divine intervention.

Looing down at the food before me, I closed my eyes and readied myself. I had eaten some horrific shit in the past, whether it be in order to survive in a rough spot, or to keep up appearances. 'Come on man, if you could eat Sam's food with a straight face, you can eat this without hurling. Heh, Patric would have killed me if he heard me think that.' I smiled to myself while recollecting bittersweet memories.

With that I opened my eyes, filled with determination. I brought the spoon down into the supposedly edible material in front of me. The moment in made contact, the somewhat formed layer on the top started breaking apart, forming into chunks that mixed in with the rest of the dish.

Pausing for a moment to regain my iron stomach, I took a scoop of the semi-solid substance and brought it up to examine it. It has a texture of mashed potatoes, but ever so slightly runnier. Taking a deep breath, I brought the spoon to my mouth, and ate it.

The taste was indescribably horrid, and that is to say nothing of the texture. however, there was something I found that allowed me to get through it, at least the first bite. It was horrible, yes, but its flaws were clashing. It didn't feel like any of its disgusting features cooperated with each other to make something truly inedible.

Harnessing all of my willpower, I swallowed. After managing to keep it down, the entire tavern once again erupted into various cries. Money began passing hands, people had dejected expressions while others looked like they had won the money needed to keep living.

I looked around before raising my hands confusedly to Grutrod. He gave a slight chuckle, "Almost all the bets 'round 'ere are just to see if you can keep a single mouthful down me boy. Tris' cooking is 'orrid enough 'at many of us use it as repellant for monsters."

The masked cook snapped their head to look at him, "HEY! I'll have you know if I was given an actually good kitchen and ingredients, I could make something that anyone would kill for!" This resulted in a burst of laughter from Grutrod.

A familiar voice came from the entry to the hall, "Yeah, probably. After all, anyone would kill for a poison strong enough to kill a goddess." Both me and the chef who was apparently Tris turned to see Oliver walk out of the hallway. He paused for a minute after entering the room, looking to the party's table, before changing course and sitting a few seats away from me at the counter.

He took one look at what was in front of me before openly gagging and moving one more chair away, "Chef's Special? What are you, a madman?" He said it in a joking tone, but his face had an expression that made it almost seem like a genuine question.

I looked down at it for a moment, before realizing something. 'I have the ability to completely change my physical body, meaning... I can just... remove my tastebuds... and then, for the horrific texture and feeling in my stomach, I'll just make my internals work much faster. It's worth it to get through this, even if I don't get much actual nutrients from it. Heh, thinking about it, this feels like a plan Raddigain would have come up with, that crazy bastard.'

I took a deep breath as I slowly applied the changes with polymorph. I made sure nothing that would change my outward appearance occurred, so that others wouldn't get too suspicious. With that, I was ready to resume my trail of fortitude.

I gave a slight chuckle as I looked down at the bowl cautiously, "believe it or not, I have had something of similar... quality before." I gave a shrug and slowly took another spoonful, it being easier to handle but still making me near retch.

Oliver turned to look away from me eating before speaking, "Really? I don't see how that could be possible. Who in the name of the Goddesses could rival the masterful cooking of our beloved home chef?" I could almost physically feel his sarcasm, and it seemed Tris felt it as well, their body language suggesting they were glaring at him.

I let out a sigh as I reflected on it, feeling actually remorseful over one of the few regrets I have, "She was an old romance of mine. She... is no longer around. It was through her I met one of my closest comrades before." I let myself become genuinely saddened at their memories, giving a moment of silence for them.

Most of the tavern at this point had lost attention with me, all of their bets concluded as none but Grutrod had bet on completion, and they clearly didn't want to sit and watch to see if I would eat the whole thing. The few who were still watching, Grutrod, Oliver, the barkeep, and Tris, all paused a moment and gave their own respectful gestures at my words.

I heard footsteps from the entryway and looked to see another member of the party had awoken. Natalia, with a somewhat unreadable expression, approached and sat on the other side of me from Oliver, still many seats away.

Grutrod looked at the two of them with a sorrowful acceptance, looking away after a moment and nodding to himself a few times. He stroked his beard absentmindedly as he seemingly thought hard about something while staring at the seat across from him.

After I **** a bit more of my mush down into my sceptic tank of a digestion system, Natalia eventually spoke up, "What were they like?" I looked up to her, seeing her in a somewhat saddened state. "Your old comrades, I mean."

I paused for a minute. I set down the spoon as I leaned my head back and thought.