Roastmeats Upon Steaming Waters
It was three tons of flesh and five tons of wood. Even spread out between the twenty-four sailors and Starcalled who had partook in challenging the Leviathan within the outer regions of Ilmea's Lament, that was still over six hundred pounds of weight per individual as they stomped across the frozen ocean, their bodies battered by the storm of steel and flesh that they had endured.
But they endured it nonetheless, the two Lanterns that held the Lightbringer's Boons glowing warmly still. They had done justice to their ancestors, to the meaning of "adventurer", and they had braved the sea where no else would, to strike back a foe that they had no hope of truly vanquishing. What awaited them at the shore, once their feet finally stomped on true land then, was...
Steam and smoke.
Great tubs of water were suspended over blazing, evergreen logs. A strong pine scent emanated from each of these outdoor pools, large enough to easily fit six at a time, while lamposts and decorations fluttered defiantly in the winter wind, splashes of color against the desolate white-and-dark. Cookfires, coals thrumming with an ashen warmth, were stoked beneath cast iron cauldrons as well, the people of Ilmea's Lament already having simmered soup stock and preserved greens into these pots. While the sailors and Starcalled had waged their battle, these people, cheeks wind-chaffed, stomachs shrunken from weeks, months, of rationed foodstuffs, had made preparations for a feast, confident in victory!
And when that mountain of meat, three whole tons of flesh paid in blood and might, crashed upon the shores, what else could they do but cheer? Children rushed forth, their daggers slicing slivers of raw blubber to chew, while mothers hauled chunks of the meat to portion and then sear. Elders of the community, bundled up like mummies, swaddled over to slap the backs of the sailors, praising and chastising them in turn, while others who no longer had bodies fit for sea were there to share in drink and merriment, of adventures that could only now be experienced in memory and story.
It would be time still, before the first bites of the coast-people's winter stews and sears could be tasted.
So what else then, could be expected of those so thoroughly coated in blood and salt?
C'mon!
With an impressive roar, Ulfr Jormundson, that titan of an ursine Beastfolk, ripped his clothes right off, revealing his mountain-like shoulders, his virile chest, and yes, indeed, his unmentionables! He hooked an arm around @Chrys as well, letting out a bawdy laugh as he marched for one of the tubs.
It's only good manners to wash before ya eat, rockman! Strip off and join me! And you too, @Charlotte Ann Marie! Thought ya owned a dinky little dinghy, not a whole ass battleship! How the blazes did ya fund yourself that?
And all around them, other members of the Leviathan Subjugation party were stripping as well, the perpetual steam from the baths doing much to keep them decent but only aggravating their musk. Perhaps out here, far away from the polite, monarchical society of Stokbon or the pastoral, plentiful communities of Pormont, passions ran hotter here, and decency was the lowest on the priority when survival was at stake. Perhaps it was economical too, to save on both water to be heated and firewood to be burnt
Or this too was a rite? One to allow Tyldr to enjoy the well-trained bodies of those whom enjoyed the Lightbringer's favors?
Naw.
Surely not.
