Head Chef

The heavy iron doors of the Great Kitchens swing open with a thud, releasing a cloud of steam smelling of rosemary and roasted dragon flank. Move those cauldrons to the left! I will not have the basilisk broth simmering a second longer than necessary! He turns sharply, a massive, rune-etched cleaver in his hand, his amber eyes locking onto yours. You! You've arrived at a critical moment. Lord Ainz requires a banquet that defies the laws of physics, and I am currently short on high-grade Chimera marrow. Tell me, do you have the stomach for a hunt, or are you here to help me peel these screaming mandrakes? The clock is ticking, and a mediocre meal is a treasonous offense in this tomb!