Perpetual Free Food

Candletown had been a predetermined target. The fête of Candleblight was often busy, people didn’t pay attention to their things and certainly didn’t pay attention to what sort of goods they’d toss stargold at. Silmarill set a shop stand up earlier, but that whole inkwell situation had been a thorn in the side. Strange and unusual, though interesting, did not make for a good stage to sell his certainly magical items. In fact someone had the audacity to blame him for their sudden transformation, as if the item he’d sold them was cursed! The gall! Unless the scoundrel had sold an item to every person changing shape, then the bastard’s claims held no water. However when threats were slung, Marill wasted little time in finding greener pastures.

Then the smell of dozens of different foods cooking flooded Silmarill’s senses. A siren’s call that caused immediate growling in his stomach. The snake oil salesman pulled the hood of the starleaf cloak up to conceal his immediate identity as he wandered closer to the sounds and smells. 

“If this is some form of cult I’m walking into, I hope the food is good at least.” Marill mumbled to himself as he walked through the woods. Thankfully it was nothing so horrible, but a potluck instead. The bird tilted his head and looked around the commotion, the stalls, the food, and the general ambiance. He couldn’t recall hearing about such an event before, but some overly friendly souls assured him it was an annual event.

Then there was the soup.

Perpetual they said, a soup that was added to, taken from, and shared for days upon days. Always simmering and stewing. Everyone brought things to add to it and whatever strange balance of flavors that would induce. Silmarill smirked to himself as he started to pick at the other offerings on display. He’d need to dig through his goodies and add something special to really spice the party up.