Marek rolls his eye at Kalleus before dumping the bag's contents in the thing along with the offered rations. "It's called a thing. You literally throw anything you have in it and see what you get. Unlike you rich folk who have the money and time to be picky us Bazdorians make do with what we have and if there's anything edible we consider that a good day," he answers, but with a heat in his voice that you cannot fail to notice; right as he speaks directly at Kalleus the latter half of his answer sees a distinct a rise in his voice along with a rapid motion in his hands that he does not seem to notice. "But tell you what. You go without, we eat all this, and we'll see how it goes. No skin off my nose."

Marek does not give so much as a look at either Anzor or Trogdor, instead looking around the persons settled by the fire to count them before starting to offer plates from his pack. The foodstuff itself looks orange-brown with something spicy-green on top. It is semi-solid and has chunks of something meat-like in it. It smells heavily spicy.

It tastes quite good though.


Spoiler: Trogdor
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As you make your priestly prayer you feel a... It feels like you stand on a threshold. On one hand you could try to connect with your deific patrons...and on the other hand you feel you could merely make this a wordy speech with no connection attempts. You really feel that you want to make a choice either way, and also that trying to do both, neither or even a hybrid would result in...consequences.