It's evening now, as the airship sails across the seemingly endless ocean. Belowdecks, the mess hall is packed, as the crew eats what passes for food.

Something special seems to be in store for someone tonight, though. As the "Kavi" is led into the room, he's directed to one of the tables, surrounded by several grinning crewmembers.

Chiaroscuro walks in, smiling. Things have been better for him the past few days, and he's learning more of the language.

There are some greetings of "Cheeskeeree" and "Kavi", the former the appelation most often attached to him by the bat-like Eeee, and the latter the preferred choice of just about everyone else.

A wolf gets up from one of the tables, and offers his space to the "Kavi", smiling broadly.

Chiaroscuro takes the seat, nodding to the wolf. "Thanks, Ma-rro-kel." He stumbles a bit over the wolf's name, but manages.

Several more crewmembers gather around, watching Chiaroscuro eagerly – as if expecting him to do or say something noteworthy.

The table in front of Chiaroscuro is completely bare.

The cook lumbers out from the kitchen, holding a covered dish. This is NOT the sort of table service that one sees in the mess hall…

Chiaroscuro looks curiously up at the crewmembers, a bit confused, and then at the cook. He is horribly curious about what is going to happen…

The paunch raccoon (seemingly even more so thanks to his characteristic raccoon fluff) in a bespattered apron and hat puffs as he makes it to the table, a couple of bats parting way for him to get through. He sets down the tray, and wipes his brow. He jabbers something, but it's full of words that Chiaroscuro hasn't picked up yet. A few of the words he does catch seem to deal with "… hard work… " "… good luck… " "… hope… enjoy… "

One of the wolves gives the raccoon an impatient snort. At last, the raccoon cuts off his rapid chatter, and lifts the lid of the tray, beaming proudly.

Chiaroscuro looks intently at the food before him…

On the tray is … what appears for all the world to be a miniature … waashu?!?

The little waashu is packed with stuffing, and on a bed of green vegetables, intermixed with a few long red ones, and what might be sliced water-chestnuts, with a pile of brown rice.

Chiaroscuro takes in a deep breath of startlement… and his eyes flicker around to the crew. .o( Either this is a joke, or they think I actually liked the taste of that horrid waashu. )

The crewmembers are all smiles and grins, eagerly watching. There are several encouragements along the lines of "Eat up!" "Eat eat eat!" "Yum yum!"

Chiaroscuro smiles up at the cook, a bit weakly. "A waashu, for me?"

The cook wipes his brow again. "Yes! Waashu for you!" He then breaks off into a rapid patter again, interspersed with words that sound like names for various vegetables, though the context is not for certain – It would seem he's going into great length about the preparations involved.

Chiaroscuro takes a deep breath, and weighs the options. .o( Well, this could be done in all seriousness, and I would hurt the cook if I did not eat. Or it could be a joke, and I will be the butt of it… )

A few eyes blink, but none leave the "Kavi". It would seem that several more have left their tables to watch as well, some trying to peek above or below the others in front of them. A few are standing up on their tables (definitely AGAINST proper protocol) for a better view.

Chiaroscuro picks up a fork, and starts by eating the vegetables, and some of the rice.

Chiaroscuro takes his knife and fork, and cuts off a small bite off Waashu. He looks around at the crew, trying to read in their eyes if this is a joke or not…

It's really hard to say. The crew seems awfully eager – perhaps too eager – but it doesn't seem to be a joke. At least, nobody looks ready to try to STOP him. Quite the contrary, there are several "go on" motions. The chef, meanwhile, is beaming proudly, standing at the other side of the table.

Chiaroscuro pops the bit of Waashu into his mouth, and chews it, thoroughly, as if to weigh the taste. He expects the very worst, but makes every effort to keep a straight face, no matter what…

Alarms go off in Chiaroscuro's mouth! This is … HHHHHHHHHOT! Fire-breathing, gehenna-gut, lava-from-on-high HOT!

Chiaroscuro swallows, quickly! His mouth opens, and he sort of croaks out… "Very… hot."

Several arms go into motion at once. It seems as if just about everyone within sight is thrusting a mug of water (or ale or some other drink) in Chiaroscuro's direction.

Chiaroscuro takes a mug of ale, and swills half of it in one gulp. He sets it down, cooled off…

There are several murmurs of amazement that run through the crowd.

Aside from the sheer agony being foisted upon the mongoose's taste buds … actually, it's pretty good. It certainly doesn't taste ANYTHING like the mouthful the mongoose got during his previous encounter with a much larger version of one of these beasties.

Out of the corner of his eye … the mongoose catches … something being exchanged between hands? Many members of the audience seem to be whispering to each other and passing things around. By the sound of "clinks", it sounds like coins are changing hands.

There are more urges of "Eat eat eat eat!" "More!" "Yum yum!"

Chiaroscuro smirks at the cook, an idea running through his mind… "Very good… very hot." He glances around at some the crew, a slightly sneering smile on his face. "Too hot for girls like you, I say!"

This provokes several guffaws from the onlookers. There are a couple of claps on the mongoose's back. "Too hot! Too hot!"

The chef, meanwhile, smiles all the more proudly – but keeps watching.

Chiaroscuro looks at one of the crew, a wolf, and grins. "I think you girl, too weak eat man food." He takes another bite, chews, and this time, despite the excrutiating heat, manages not to gasp for water.

A mug of water is thrust toward the mongoose despite his lack of a request. "Drink?" one asks.

The mongoose's eyes threaten to pool up and mat his face-fur with tears…

"No drink.", Chiaroscuro says in a voice that's just on the edge of boasting. It takes all the control he has, and it falters just a note.

"Ohhhh!" There are several more comments in astonished tones of voice, accompanied by more "clink" noises as coins pass hands.

Chiaroscuro munches a bit on the stuffing now, looking at the crew, and trying to find someway out of eating the rest of the spicy thing.

Several of the crewmembers seem just as amazed as the mongoose eats the stuffing, apparently not realizing it for what it is – and that it's certainly not nearly so much a strain on the taste buds as what contains thestuffing.

Chiaroscuro eats small chunks of the apparent 'waashu' along with the stuffing, to deaden the taste. He sips on the mug of ale he's already drunk from.

It takes every bit of willpower the mongoose has to keep something resembling a straight face. His sinuses warn that, any moment now, his nose is threatening to turn on like a spigot. But, thankfully, the main body of the Waashu is little more than a thin skin around all that stuffing. While it LOOKS as if he's making major headway on what would appear to be the bulk of the creature, there's probably far more mass in the spindly tentacles.

Chiaroscuro keeps going, eating slowly. By the time the stuffing and vegetables are gone, he's finishes it all off except for the tentacles. Sweat on his brow and a slight pant in his breath key off the observant as to how hot this truly is.

There go up several cheers. Many of the words, again, are hard to catch, but the mongoose catches bits like "All of it!" "He did it!" "Can't believe it!"

Some of the crewmembers are arguing with each other, pointing at the spindly tentacles left on the plate, but it seems the "He did it" side is winning out by sheer force of lung power. (Most of them are bats, after all.)

Chiaroscuro takes a big swig of water now, and seems to think it's all over.

The chef seems to be the only one not entirely impressed, but he shrugs, and asks, "All done?"

Chiaroscuro nods to the Chef. "Done, yes."

The chef gives Chiaroscuro a conspiratorial wink, then quickly covers the plate and proclaims something that contains "all gone" in it. With that, he heads back to the kitchen, leaving several crewmembers furiously exchanging coins.

As one wolf begrudgingly hands over some coins to a bat, and then begins to put his pouch away, the bat stops him, and points in the mongoose's direction. The wolf grumbles, and then digs out some more coins – and puts them in front of the mongoose. "Well done, Kavi," he grunts, smirking a little despite himself, then heads off to lament his loss.

Chiaroscuro scoops up the coins in a paw, leans back and kicks his feet up on the table. He says, "Any you eat Waashu for dinner tomorrow, be man?" He knows he's being a little arrogant, but decides after all of that, he has earned it.

This prompts several laughs, groans, and a few rapid departures.

Chiaroscuro grins, and tucks the coins away in a belt pouch, after inspecting them carefully… puzzling a bit over the star-and-anchor symbol.

A quick count of the win indicates that the mongoose now has one big ceramic coin, and seven smaller ones. From what he's picked up, they're known as "Shekels", and the bigger one is worth ten. Not that there is much to buy here on the ship.

The mess hall is slowly clearing out now, as a few of the crewmembers hurriedly gulp down what's left of their gruel, and leave in various degrees of haste or lack thereof.

After most of the crew has headed out, Chiaroscuro looks around, and wanders over to the kitchen… slipping quickly through the door.

In the kitchen, the raccoon is loudly sing-songing to himself, "Laaaaa dee deeeee – doh doh dohhhh!" He has a rather deep and resonant voice, though the lyrics are lost on the mongoose. He has his back turned, washing pots and pans.

Chiaroscuro says, "Hey, Cook… " and pads over next to the raccoon.

At first, the raccoon, reflexively brandishes a pot, and spews out a long stream of warnings about violating the sanctity of his kitchen, or something that might be translated to that effect, but his stern look quickly fades to a smile at sight of the mongoose. "Oho! ? Fire-Eater Kavi!"

Chiaroscuro smiles. "Cook, tell me… ", and his voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. "Was waashu, or not waashu, other?"

The cook grins broadly and nods. "Waashu!" He waddles over to the meat locker and opens it up. Inside, hanging on hooks, are a couple of what look like deflated balloons with hanging strings. Little waashus.

Chiaroscuro nods to the chef, his stomach silently turning. "I not think so before you say, big waashu taste like {word he thinks means excrement}, waashu you cook good, Hot Hot, but good."

The cook laughs. He tries talking in simple words in a choppy, slower voice. "Little waashu – good food, but hot. Only for {?} hungry sailors. But… " He quickly launches into a faster rhythm, no longer sticking to the easy words.

Chiaroscuro tries to listen, but cannot follow a word of it… even without that droning skullbuzz, he still could not keep up. He nods vaguely from time to time.

The chef slows down again, "… so I make it taste good!" He beams proudly.

Chiaroscuro nods enthusiastically to the cook. "Yes, much good, Cook."

Chiaroscuro pats the cook's shoulder. "You good cook, but dinner tomorrow, food not waashu-hot, please?" He grins friendly-like.

The cook grins and winks. "Waashu are special! {?} not every night!"

Chiaroscuro grins, nodding, and heads out of the kitchen… returning to his bunk for the evening. His tongue still sizzles from the taste, but he has made a little money for the night… .o( I just hope, Lord Rik, I will never have to eat another bite of waashu of any sort again. )