Culinary Colloquy

Culinary Colloquy is an encounter in Melody of the Maze. It comes after Gazing into the Abyss, Runt Punt, or Five Kings.
==Enemies==
*Soulstealer Gourmet (1100 Gold, 120 Xp, 75 Energy, 5 HP Normal, 6 HP Hard)
*Soulstealer Gourmand (1100 Gold, 120 Xp, 75 Energy, 5 HP Normal, 6 HP Hard)
==Transcript==
===Introduction===
You come to a halt, robbed of motion by the spectacle before you. Even after everything you've seen in this labyrinth of lunacy, the sight is peculiar enough to command your interest.
A round dining table stands upon the stone floor, an article of furniture so conventional that it seems outlandish amidst its present surroundings. A lavish purple silk cloth has been draped across it, and hangs in light waves beneath its curving edge. Beautiful silver candelabras hold wax columns in the same shade, a violet flame burning atop each of their lilac wicks.
But if the table is normal, the diners sat on opposite sides of it are anything but. Each is a purple-skinned demon, of a kind you've already encountered on your travels. Soulstealers...
There's a clattering noise behind you, echoed by an identical sound from beyond the table. You turn to see a group of imps scurrying in your direction, each of them bearing a silver platter - their contents concealed beneath domed lids. The imps pay you no heed. They simply move around you and keep going.
The infernal waiters reach the table at the same time as their counterparts from the opposite direction. A few moments of unseemly jostling and shoving, clicking and clanking, ensue - after which an equal number of dishes are set before each diner.
One of the soulstealers nods to an imp, and the diminutive demon pulls away the lid from nearest platter.
"Ah, delightful!" the soulstealer murmurs. He leans slightly forward and sniffs at the unveiled delicacy. His eyes close. A soft sigh trembles in his throat.
A small cloud of red mist floats above the platter, tethered to its surface by a wispy scarlet trail. It looks like... Yes... It's a face. Holes in the mist form eyes and a wide mouth that gawks in pain or horror. A little protrusion of the substance creates a button nose.
The demon opens his eyes and waves his hand.
Some of the imps remove the lids from the other platters in front of him, unveiling his half of the banquet. Then they scurry back from whence they came, clutching the dome-like coverings.
A single misty face hovers atop each of the serving trays, every one of them a different color. He takes another sniff, longer this time, and gasps in delight.
"Get a move on!" the other soulstealer says.
The imps yank away his platters' lids, then they too withdraw -- leaving the diners alone at their table.
Veritable clouds of colored misty faces mass above the second soulstealer's dishes, each so dense and crammed together that the ghostly features of its members are almost indistinguishable.
"I don't know how you can starve yourself like that," he says. "What good's a meal if you're still hungry afterwards?"
"The purpose of fine dining is to experience sumptuous tastes and flavors," the other soulstealer replies.
He pinches a green face between the thumb and first two fingers of his right hand. Its wispy parts the metal as he lifts it from the platter. The mist clings to his fingers until he slips it into his mouth.
He smacks his lips and makes a flourishing gesture with his hand.
The other soulstealer rolls his eyes, plunges both hands into a heap of blue faces, and starts cramming them into his maw.
"You eat like a hog!"
The gluttonous soulstealer makes a reply, but it's impossible to decipher amidst the foodstuffs that fill his mouth and muffle voice.
But you hear something else instead...
It's a scream. No... Not a single scream. A chorus of screams, audible only because so many voices have been joined for the purpose.
You hurl the first spell out of instinct, thinking only of stopping the occult banquet.
===Conclusion===
"Must... sample... the... red..." the surviving soulstealer says.
He scrambles towards the table, reaching out for his desired delicacy - stretching to grasp his last meal.
But your sword is faster. You thrust it into the back of his head, and his cranium explodes in a purple haze.
When it clears, you see the misty faces rising from the platters -- their tethers broken. Their mouths form smiles now, and a faint cheer drifts through the air as they vanish into nothingness a few feet above your head.
Category:Melody of the Maze