Shipping goods from the game to the World of Warhammer

Chapter 77 Green-Skinned Dinner

The banquet that Zazik described was far more extravagant and lively than Rhodes had imagined.

It's not the exquisiteness of the dishes that makes the orcs grand; on the contrary, the grandeur of their entourage usually lies in its scale and the level of chaos.

The entire banquet was held on a cleared-out area in the center of the town, surrounded by sheet metal and old tires to mark out a boundary.

In the middle of the open space stood three large cauldrons made from oil drums. The fuel they burned was not the primal substance commonly found in the Empire, but some kind of fungal fuel that emitted a pungent odor, and the flames were an unhealthy blue-green color.

At least several hundred orcs were crammed into the open space, ranging from giants as big as Zazik to elves only half a person tall, all circling around the long tables pieced together from the wreckage of war chariots.

The noise was deafening. Orcs are known for their loud voices, and with over two hundred of them gathered together, every word they uttered sounded like shouts across the playground. Add to that the clanging of their metal utensils and wrenches, and it became even harder to hear what they were saying.

Of course, it didn't smell very good either.

The air was thick with the pungent smell of stewed fungi, the smoky aroma of roasted Skull, or rather, the burnt smell that filled the nostrils, mixed with the orcs' own body odor—a blend of metallic rust, sweat, and fungal spores. The air in the entire area was comparable to that of Nurgle Garden.

Rod instinctively held his breath the moment he stepped over the fence, then realized he couldn't go a whole night without breathing, so he switched to breathing through his mouth to minimize the strain on his nasal passages.

Zazik arranged for Rhodes to sit to his left. The seat was half a track wheel hub with an iron plate welded on it. The height was just right, but Rhodes' thighs were so cold when he sat down.

Snagrim sat further away, his military cap off and placed on his lap, revealing his bald, green head for once.

Only the green-skinned dishes were served one after another on the dining table.

First up was a large pot of fungal porridge, mixed with dark green and brownish-black fungal chunks. The little devil in charge of serving slammed the iron basin on the table, the porridge sloshing around and releasing a steaming, sour, and pungent smell. The orcs nearby were already rubbing their hands together, eager to reach in and scoop some up.

Next came plates and plates of fried Scuttlefish and pickled mushroom chunks. The former was golden and shiny, and its appearance was actually acceptable. Each one made a slight sizzling sound when bitten, which sounded similar to French fries.

The latter was a slice of giant mushroom marinated in some kind of dark purple liquid, which, according to the orc next to him, was "so spicy it could burn your tongue."

Rhodes watched as a young orc grabbed a whole clump of mushrooms, stuffed it into his mouth, chewed it three times, and his expression changed from smug to ferocious. An unusual red tinge appeared on his green skin, and sweat visibly poured from his entire face.

But it stubbornly refused to spit it out. The moment it swallowed, six or seven orcs around it cheered in unison, clinked their iron cups together, and the fungal beer splashed everywhere.

Clearly, swallowing an entire clump of mushrooms in one gulp is considered a remarkable feat in these green-skinned social customs.

The main course was carried up by two snotty-nosed creatures: a giant, juicy squiggly roasted squiggly, several times larger than a regular edible squiggly. It was plump and full of flesh, and brushed with a sauce that gave off a strange, sweet, and fishy smell. It was said to be the secret recipe of the fart-nosed chef.

Zazik personally cut the first piece, pushed it in front of Rhodes, kept the second piece for himself, and then the rest were left for the other orcs to fight over.

Rod held the juicy Scuttlefish and symbolically poked it with the folding cutlery he pulled from the lining of his pocket. He was trying to figure out how to get rid of it without offending his owner when a cheer that was far more frenzied than before suddenly erupted from the other end of the open space.

"Face-biting contest! Face-biting contest!"

Dozens of orcs shouted the same word in unison, and the rhythm of slamming iron cups on the table grew faster and faster, merging into a dense metallic clanging sound, like some kind of primitive war drum.

Rhodes looked in the direction of the sound and saw that a circle had spontaneously formed on the east side of the open space, with a burly orc boy standing in the middle. His breastplate had been removed, revealing a body of bulging green muscles, and his expression was so excited that it resembled Xi Jinping's mania.

A snotty little creature trotted over and handed over an iron cage. The cage wasn't big, and inside was a seemingly ordinary gray-white Squirrel, its round body quietly huddled at the bottom of the cage.

But the moment the snotty creature opened the cage door, the Squig seemed to have a switch flipped. Its entire body sprang up, and its giant mouth, which had been retracted inside, snapped open, revealing two rows of fine and sharp teeth. Its short, thick tail swished loudly, emitting a series of sharp hissing sounds.

The orc grabbed Skull's tail and lifted it high above his head.

Sgug writhed wildly in the air, its huge mouth opening and closing repeatedly toward the orc's face below, spitting saliva everywhere. The orc tilted its head back and opened its mouth as well, revealing a mouthful of fangs.

Two mouths, one above the other, aligned perfectly.

The orc suddenly pushed his hand down.

What happened next made Rhodes unable to watch any longer. The Skull and the orc bit down almost simultaneously. One gnawed down at the orc's nose, while the other chewed up on the Skull's body. Both gritted their teeth, saliva and bits of flesh flying everywhere, making gurgling chewing sounds mixed with the Skull's pitiful screeching. The surrounding orcs slapped their thighs and cheered, while the farts jumped up and down and shouted from a safe distance.

Several orcs had already started picking their teeth and placing bets.

Countless beast teeth were slapped onto the oil drum lids that served as makeshift betting tables. The orcs placing bets looked more serious than the players on the field. Some bet on the orcs to win, while others bet on the Sgugs to win, though the odds were about the same.

The orc in the arena ultimately won, but at the cost of a large chunk of flesh missing from its nose. Green blood seeped from the wound, but it didn't seem to care. It chewed up the remaining half of the Skull in its mouth and swallowed it, then raised its fists and roared as if it had just won a life-or-death battle.

The second challenger stepped forward, even bigger than the first. The snotty guy next to him handed over a much more formidable face-biting Slug—this one was even bigger, which made the surrounding betting even more enthusiastic.

Rod looked away and tried to bring the juicy piece of squiggly to his lips, but when it was still about ten centimeters away, he couldn't overcome his nausea and put down his fork.

Turning his head, he saw that Aliya was in even worse condition than him.

In front of her, on a metal plate, lay a bowl of fungal porridge and a few fried scones. The head cook, with her golden ponytail, maintained a soldier-like posture throughout, her back ramrod straight, but she never once extended her cutlery toward the plate. Her gaze was fixed intently on the cutlery in front of her, as if waging a life-or-death struggle against the food.

Lillie, being bolder, actually picked up a fried squiggly stick with her fingers, examined it closely for a few seconds, and then a drop of murky juice slowly seeped from the bitten-off section of the squiggly stick, accompanied by an extremely faint sound.

But you should absolutely not hear squeaks from food.

Lillie put the Scuttle bar back on the plate expressionlessly, then carefully wiped her fingers several times with a cloth.

The orcs across the table, however, were eating with great gusto.

The orc boy closest to Rhodes had three empty plates stacked in front of him and was attacking the fourth plate of whole marinated mushrooms. Deep purple juice dripped down his chin onto his breastplate. He chewed and inhaled, panting from the spiciness, but his hands never stopped moving.

The other, even larger orc downed half a jug of fungal beer in one gulp. Amber liquid spilled from the corner of his mouth, flowing down his neck and into the gaps in his collar armor. He let out a loud burp, which made the iron plate on the table tremble. Then he wiped his mouth and went to snatch a plate of grilled Skull skewers.

Further away, the flask of fungal liquor had already begun to exert its effects.

A young orc sitting in the corner gulped down three large cups. After finishing the third cup, his eyes began to glaze over, his body swayed, and he hummed some incoherent tune. Then, his head lolled to the side, and he slumped onto the table, his face slamming into the half-eaten plate of fungal porridge. Spilled porridge splattered onto the breastplate of the orc next to him.

The orc next to it not only didn't offer any help, but instead laughed and slapped it on the back twice, then casually handed the unfinished glass of strong liquor to itself.

A few minutes later, the second one collapsed. This one was bigger; it was the one who had stubbornly insisted on competing with others in gulping down a whole bunch of mushrooms. The double attack of spiciness and strong liquor finally broke through its stomach wall defenses. The orc leaned back and flipped over, chair and all, onto its back, landing on the ground. The surrounding orcs didn't even give it a second glance.

Rhodes finally couldn't hold back anymore.

He stood up, bowed slightly in Zazik's direction, and wore a perfectly appropriate apologetic expression.

"Boss Zazik, the Ghost Squad just sent word that there's been a problem at the training grounds. I need to go take care of it."

.

Zazik, with a large piece of roasted Skull stuffed in its mouth, mumbled a reply and casually waved its power claws toward the door, acknowledging its passage. Its attention was clearly drawn to the face-biting contest taking place nearby. This round featured a veteran under Snagrim's command, facing a "champion-level" face-biting Skull that had reportedly been raised for two years. The Skull was twice the size of a normal breed, and its teeth had already piled up into a small mountain on the oil drum lid.

Rod turned and left.

Aria caught up even faster than him—to be precise, she was already standing up the instant Rod's buttocks left the wheelchair. Liriel also quickly got up, showing no trace of the embarrassment she had just experienced while eating the fried skunks.

None of the three spoke, but they quickened their pace in unison, crossing the fence and heading out of town along the main road they had come from. The clamor of the banquet behind them gradually faded into the distance, until the intense stench of fungi, roasted meat, and the smell of beasts in the air was finally diluted by the night breeze.

Aliya couldn't hold back any longer.

"Lord Captain—" Her speech was faster than usual, "Will we have to go through this kind of banquet every time we come here from now on?"

"We'll see." Rhodes leaned against a metal-clad telephone pole outside town, looking up at the dark red moon in the sky, his stomach still churning. "Anyway, next time I'll prepare my own food in advance."

The three of them wandered around the hills on the outskirts of the town for nearly an hour and a half.

Rod used his field of vision to observe the situation in the town from time to time.

The banquet lasted longer than he had anticipated. The orcs' energy for eating and drinking was equally astonishing. It wasn't until nearly half the night had passed, and the moon had already circled the sky, that the noise in the town began to gradually subside.

When they returned to the town, the scene in the open space could only be described as horrific.

At least a third of the orcs were lying haphazardly in various corners, some slumped over tables, some leaning against piles of scrap metal, and a few lying directly on the ground in such unrestrained and breathtaking poses.

Of course, they had no intention of returning to their lodgings to sleep; their snores rose and fell, echoing the whirring of unidentified machinery in the distant workshops of town. A few of the still-alive swarmed among the fallen orcs, deftly cleaning up the mess and casually swiping a few teeth from their pockets. Making a quick buck while their leaders were drunk was probably a survival tactic passed down through generations in swarming society; however, if they were discovered, they'd likely be among the side dishes at the next banquet.

Aliya's stomach growled.

The sound wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear in an environment where only snoring and the sound of farting footsteps remained. Her face visibly stiffened in the moonlight, but her professional instincts compelled her to silently place her hand on her abdomen.

Liriel's stomach growled a second time. She looked down at her abdomen and then turned her gaze to Rhodes, her eyes seeming to say that she was about to starve to death.

"—Don't look at me." Rhodes tossed a bulging cloth bag at the two of them; it was unclear when the bag had appeared in his hands.

Aliya took the bag, opened it, and saw that it contained a bunch of mushrooms.

They vary in size and shape, but unlike the strangely colored and pungent-smelling varieties at banquets, these mushrooms have a relatively normal appearance, mainly light gray and off-white in color, with a dry surface and no suspicious slime or spore powder. When you get close, they only have a faint, matsutake-like fragrance.

"When did you get them?" Aliya asked, rummaging through the mushrooms in the bag, her tone tinged with suspicion.

"Would you believe me if I said I just casually dug these up from the fungus fields around town while I was wandering around?" Rhodes' tone was casual, as if he were talking about something insignificant. "Never mind that. Anyway, these things won't cause any problems like those orcish plants."

Aliya stared at the mushrooms in the bag for a few seconds, then looked up at Rhodes.

She didn't say thank you, but quickly packed the bag away.

Of course, these were the various mushrooms that Rhodes had just gotten from the Stardew Valley shop, enough to fill the three of them's stomachs.

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