Milk

## Description

Author of the 6th Edition of The Dungeon Anarchist's Cookbook. Mostly focused on portals and mapmaking. Also included some recipes on ink.

## Cookbook Entries

Portals are hard to understand. It seems like there are dozens of different types that all work in different ways. Sometimes they're like doors, and you don't even know they're there. Sometimes, like the entryways between floors, you just need to touch them and they work. Sometimes you have to put your hand through, and you start to feel like you're being dragged. If you let yourself go slack, you get pulled in. But you can still break free. It's not consistent. Sometimes you have to be big enough to fit through it to work, and sometimes a portal the size of a button will toss you into a monster den. Teleport traps are the worst. (Chapter 27, Book 3)

When a country boss dies, it drops persistent loot called the Treasure Map. My advice. Don't pick it up. Over 400 of us faced the boss. Less than 50 survived. It would've been easier if it had been physically huge, allowing us all to attack at once. But this terror was in a low-ceilinged cave, and it was almost impossible to even get a hit in. We were doing damage to each other just as much as to him. All country bosses have special attacks that kill en masse. Beware the ones who look especially easy to kill. They are inevitably the worst. When we finally emerged victorious, it did not feel like a victory. We were angry and bloodied and distrusting of our fellow crawlers who'd eagerly killed others just to get a hit in on the boss. What should have been a moment of unity was the calamitous event that spelled our doom. This was by design. Of that I am certain. And then we all picked up the map, which showed the location and quality of all the magical gear in the area. Gear we all felt we deserved. It sparked a second slaughter, and I received my first player-killer skull. I wish I had never picked up that map. It wasn't worth it. I have blood on my claws, and it will never wash away. (Chapter 61, Book 5)

I used to make a stew for my whole family. The recipe in itself wasn't anything special. Rance meat, bone broth, a wild grass that would grow on the leeward side of our island. We'd pray over the cauldron while it simmered. The stew, when prepared properly, would not not only be delicious. It would awaken the old knowledge within the minds of the young. We're all imprinted with the route of the yearly migration, but something in the traditional meal quickens that knowledge. In sharing this meal with our young, we're not only bonding with each other. We're ensuring their survival should we fall. I can't stop thinking about it. These aliens took us before I could make this year's stew. The youngest among us are not here. How are they faring out there, all alone? How can they possibly survive without our guidance? Who will show them the way? (Chapter 13, Book 6)

I am writing the sixth edition of this book. I am putting as much information as I can in here. One day you will find these words, and I pray that they feed you, like the stew I used to serve to our little ones. But is it enough to give this information to just one person? There's honor in giving someone a meal. But I wish to cook a feast for the whole galaxy. I wish for them all to choke on our pain. (Chapter 13, Book 6)

Holy underworlds on high, That last fight... I can't even describe it. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. (Chapter 46, Book 6)

Even though you can sometimes move the platforms upon which the stairwells sit, you cannot put the exit portal into your inventory. You can't bring a stairwell into your saferoom. I watched one get hit by an Utter Annihilation wand, and it remained unscathed. I believe that means they are indestructible. (Chapter 61, Book 6)

If you have to fight a demon, and you have access to Sheol fire, do not use it. It makes the creature exponentially stronger. (Chapter 63, Book 6)