Brawwk Brawwwk!

The Admiral erupted with unusual ferocity.

“Great blathering blatherskites! “

As has been his wont throughout this narrative, Woodpecker-Smythe pointed out the obvious

“He thinks he’s a chicken, you know gallus domesticus”

And, with that impeccable sense of timing so necessary to drop in on the most embarrassing aspect of this pitiful scene, Sir Bocking strode in with his henchman Zimbar in tow.

“Ah, I see I’ve missed the high class luncheon featuring ..” And here he paused to lean over and survey the remains on serving dishes.

“…. Almond Chicken ala Binky .. simply delightful”

The Admiral quickly regained his composure.

“Actually, I was aiming for a Coturnix coturnix japonica theme but I had to act quickly after Captain Stupid over here nearly spilled the proverbial beans about the sacking.”

“Who’s Captain Stupid?” Zimbar asked.

“You, that’s who” replied Bocking

“Now listen carefully, I understand that Lord Toranaga is not only a high-level mage but also fancies himself to be a top-flight chef and designer of haute couture, 8th level. If I am sure of anything, he’s no doubt got his wedding banquet already laid out and Lady M is probably the main course.”

Woody looked ashen.

“Will we have to face him in a fashion feud?”

Bocking turned on his heel, his hand on the hilt of his +5 shiv.

“Quite likely, quite likely I’m afraid. And it might even include a bake-off as a tiebreaker.”

Zimbar cut in and place both palms on the dining table. He looked exceptionally grave.

"Then we had better hope to Heimdall that chicken isn't the secret ingredient."

"Bawgawk Bawgawk!" seconded Turnips