While sitting around the the fire cooking snake meat in the ogres cooking pot the hunters were talking about the task that was asked of them. How the Dragonlord had requested them to speak on behalf of the city, how he wanted the ogre to guard the mountain pass and make it his home. What he was willing to offer and how they could speak on behalf of the city in this matter.

These negotiations were going well and the ogre was happy when the left over hydra meat was added to the pot. It was around this time that Tea noticed the magic brewing into the stew they were cooking. At first she had just thought it was a magic pot with a minor enchantment on it or the like but now she knew it was more then that. Much more!

"Is your magic pot making magic stew?" She asked the ogre after some thought.

"Yes, it was my tribes pot. We cooked all of our meals in the pot and it helped us grow strong as a clan." The towering ogre said after some thought.

"It made you strong?" Tess asked with a look of confusion on his face.

"It is a kind of ritual magic. By doing the same things over and over you grow an object or some such in power. The power is always minor but even having a minor buff can change the corse of a war if everyone on your side has it." Sasha told them. She had experience from both her father and mother.

They had used it sparingly over the years to avoid becoming dependant on the strange magic and its constricting rules. They mainly used it on courses of action that they knew would be repeated endlessly. For the very reason of reinforcing it and growing the power into some thing that could make a difference. They had of course taught their daughter everything they knew about it and that was why she always got dressed in the same way each morning. Something small that would help her start the day out right. In a few decades yet it would help influence her day to go well and after a couple of centires its power would be greater still. Not earth shattering but still far better then nothing.

It was why she always practice the same moves with her sword and shield. She wanted to make sure that if she were ever supriesed she would react automatically, with this she would do so just a little bit better and that could very well mean the difference between life and death.

That is to say the problem with this kind of magic would not come from breaking the magic effects. If she ever got up and skipped her morning workout she would be just a little bit slower. Not impeded in anyway, shape, form, or fashion, just slower. It could mean her death or injury. She thus made sure to always do the routine.

With the cooking pot not finishing the meal would mean that the effects weaken or just not happen all together. The chimera would not allow that to come to pass because she could eat much more then everyone else combined.

"What all effects does this pot have. Can you tell us?" Drassisa asked.

"If you hunt something yourself and put its meat in the pot, cook it up and share it with good friends or family. That is where the magic comes from, it must be shared. If you are a glutton then the magic will not happen." The ogre said while the pot simmered, "The aspects of what you have hunted will go and be shared with those that eat from the pot. My clan shared meals and stories around this pot for a thousand years. We have grown strong and so has it. I am the last one left and the magic of my pot shall die with me."

"What if we shared some of the meats from our hunts with you, would you be willing to share the fruits of your hunts with us?" Smithy asked the gentle giant.

"If you would bring them here and added them to the pot then I would gladly share the same for my knew friends. The way the magic works is that when we are finished the meal with be as well. The more storys that are told the greater the affect eating what comes from the pot will have. I shall go first and share the story of what killed my clan. The only thing that could was a Dragonlord!" The ogre said in knew spirits after being given a chance to tell storys once more.

The ogre told of the Lord of All that Glitters. He told of a Dragons might and the courage to face its fire. He told of brave warriors who would challenge that old monster of fire and all that came of it. When his story was through he proudly held up his coin. The only thing ever taken from that Dragons hord in living memory. A single gold coin that came to him by luck.

After his story there was not a single person sitting around the cooking pot that did not feel the sense of wonder this moment brought about. The were each intent on telling a story to go along with the meal.

Smithy told of growing up, of how he would collect plants and insects. That was how he first learned of alchemy, by seeing what effects they would have on him when eaten. He had almost died on more then one occasion but it proved useful when chance was against him. His people were being hunted by some beast and they needed to kill it. He decided that he could do it if everyone was willing to help. They had turned him down and called him weak for not challenging the monster on his own like the other warriors had done. He told them that doing so may be why all the other warriors were dead. They reactd porly to the insult. It the end it was only one girl that was willing to help him. She had lost all her brothers and father to the monster already and they were ridiculed for trying to kill it like this. It took them many days and nights but they finally had a deadly enough brew to fell even a giant if they were right. They mixed it into a pouch that was then slipped into a pocket of the worrior who was to challenge the monster. When he died and the monster ate him whole it was released and soon after the monster had died. The entre village was gathered to look at the beast with boiled skin and melted eyes. After what they had done was found out they were kicked out and exiled from the goblin tribe. She now worked in the shop they had opened toghether and he was here.

After his long tale of adventure and woe the smell of the stew grew stronger and then the next person when and told a story of how they came to be here. And the next. Until all the storys were told. Until the meal was done cooking. When that time came around everyone ate and told jokes, this was a good finish to a good day. Tomorrow they would be heading back to their cabin and relaxing for a few days but for today everyone was content with just eating this stew.

No one knew what tomorrow would bring and everyone was OK with that for just this once!