Roast and Reasoning

The silence following my cheerful "Hi guys!" was almost painful.

All three girls stared at me like I’d sprouted horns.

Shadowheart blinked slowly, her lips parting just enough to whisper, "You're TALKING to them?"

Lae'zel was less subtle. Her hand flew to her sword, already half-drawn. "You should be skewered where you stand."

Karlach made a strangled sound, equal parts rage and revulsion. "Tav... that’s a person they’re eating."

To be fair, they weren't wrong. The three ogres huddled around a makeshift spit in the ruined building tearing into what had once been a tiefling—now little more than scorched meat and cracked bones. The air stank of burned hair and char.

Before anyone could act, the ogres turned. The closest—barrel-chested, tusked, and gleeful—let out a thick, wet laugh. "More meat!"

The second one stood a little further back, sniffing the air with curious grunts. But it was the third who caught my attention. He wore a dull bronze circlet set against the grime of his bald head. His posture was straighter than the others, his gaze sharp.

He stepped forward slowly, raising a hand to quiet his companions. "Be you friend," he said in surprisingly crisp Common, "or food?"

The girls instinctively stepped forward. Lae'zel moved like a whip, Shadowheart raised her hand, already forming a spell. Karlach’s fists clenched around her axe.

I held up a hand. "Easy. Neither," I said calmly. "I'm something better. I'm the cook."

The ogres blinked. The smart one arched a brow, intrigued.

"The cook?"

I nodded. "One of the best. And I can see you’ve got a taste for rare cuts. But you’re working with poor ingredients. What you’re eating now? It’s passable. Chewy, burnt on the outside, probably still raw on the inside."

The ogres looked down at their meal. One of them gnawed thoughtfully on a charred rib, then grunted.

"Karlach, look away," I murmured.

"Don’t worry," she growled. "I already did."

"Now imagine," I continued, my voice smooth, "slow-roasted goblin ribs basted in garlic oil. Marinated worg flank. Manflesh soaked in brandy for three days and seared with rosemary."

They stared.

"All you have to do," I said, "is come when I call. You hear that call to dinner—"

I gestured with an open hand, and the smart ogre produced a gnarled, stained horn from his belt.

"—and you follow the sound. The meal will be ready, hot and screaming. All you need to do is kill it."

The ogres looked between each other. The smart one nodded slowly, considering the terms like a merchant weighing coin.

"You offer a mutually beneficial arrangement," he said. "Effortless acquisition. Fresh meat."

"Exactly," I said. "You eat well, we walk free, and no one else has to die today."

The ogre handed me the horn with an unsettling grin. "Blow this when it is time. We will feast."

"Gladly," I replied, slipping it into my belt. "Just... don’t eat the messenger."

The ogre's smile widened. "No promises."

The tension snapped like a cut wire. The ogres returned to their meal with guttural laughter and renewed appetite, seemingly forgetting we existed.

The girls, however, were far less quick to reset.

"You... TALKED your way past OGRES," Shadowheart said, dazed.

"Not just past," I said, beaming. "I recruited them."

Karlach stepped back, hand still on her weapon. "Recruited? You mean bribed them with the promise of people."

"Technicalities," I said. "Think of it as creative diplomacy."

She groaned.

Lae’zel crossed her arms, impressed. "A swift blade would have solved this faster. But a temporary asset is still an asset. I Approve."

[Lae’zel: Approval +2]

"Noted."

Shadowheart gave me a sideways look. "If they eat the wrong person, that's on you."

"They would have done so anyway. At least know we have 'the horn of controlled chaos'."

Karlach shook her head. "Controlled my ass."

[Experience Gained]

We left the ogres to their grisly feast, the firelight flickering behind us as the scent of roasted tiefling lingered in the air. We had gained safe passage and three siege weapons with stomachs for hire.