|Game 3||Game 3 Outline|
Over the course of your stay, you've managed to learn that usually these thing end badly no matter what you do, so you may as well eat the stew rather then face the certain death of being torn limb from limb by an angry ghost witch. So tentativly, you bring the ladle to your mouth and blow on it to cool it before slurping down the content. Honestly it's not that bad, well seasoned, full of flavor, savory and sweet. But still you don't nmanage to enjoy it, as your waiting for the recoil, because whatever it is, it's got to be something magical that's going to throw you for a loop in some manner. You wait for it, bracing yourself for anything, imagining what horrors it will inflict on you. Turn you into a toad? grow a second head? Or, and you shudder looking down at your frame that holds enough blubber to make a walrus envious, fatten you up even more?
However, after a good minute passes with not even a gurgle, you relize that the ghost is tapping her foot expectently, "Well?" She says, impatient and wanting at the same time, "Too much pepper? Maybe some worchester sauce?" You blink, a bit confused, "Um...," you say, before tasting the stew again, and paying more attention to the flavor. "Maybe a little sauce?" you say, and watch as another bottle flies past your head and sprinkles a bit into the coldren before the ladle swirls it about and comes out with another serving for you to try. "Perfect." you say, upon tasting it.
"Splendid!" says the ghost, "I've been trying to get this right for ages, but it's just so hard to judge when you don't have any sense of taste of smell." She says, floating across the room towards the book and turning the page to another recipe, "Let's see, what to try next..." You push yourself up from the chair, only to find yourself wedged into the arms, ending up lifting it with you rather then succumbing to the forces of gravity. "Is... is that it?" you ask hesitantly, "You just wanted someone to taste your stew?"
"Yep," says the ghost, "Oh, cherries jubilee, that sounds insteresting." She seems more absorbed in the book then in you now. "Nothing else?" you say, waiting for the other shoe to drop, "Nope," she replies, as the utensils start flying about again, prepairing the ingrediants for her next dish. You relax a bit, the action apparently creating enough slack in your rump that the chair finally slips off, relieved that this had been nothing more then something apparently completely benign. "That's a relief, for a moment I thought you were the witch I'd heard about." You say.
The ghost laughs a little before saying...
Written by Spots
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