Darkest Gijadon

(WARNING: There are some gruesome descriptions towards the end, the paragraph is marked in BOLD (tried to make them RED, didn't work) below. This entry is interspersed with narrative prose of a scene at the hotel. )

Deep in Gijadon, the largest city in the world, a black luxury carriage rolled down the Avenue of Kings, like a hundred others such carriages had that hour. On a street lined with armed gates, it pulled over to the right and headed into gates that swung open in time for the horses to pass through without slowing, and just as smoothly they closed. Figures within moved behind the gates, dark shadows within a dark space. The horses pulled through a tunnel that turned into an enormous well-lit carriage house. It pulled to an elevated entrance that was level with the carriage door. Red plush carpets led to an ornate double door nearly twenty-feet tall. Two ogres, an unusual glint of intelligence in their eyes, opened the portal as the riders stepped out, leaving their cloaks behind. There was no need to hide here. A 9-foot tall hag strode forward, two incubi walking just a few feet behind her. She passed under the massive arches to see signage carved into a wall of obsidian. Platinum and clear gemstones filled the engravings of the sign.

Welcome to Darkest Gijadon

Gijadon (GIft JOb DON) is famous throughout the world as the largest city. It sprawls in several directions, each larger than most cities on the planet. But there are some truly dark things behind the grotesque wealth.
Darkest Gijadon is a private hotel catering to evil agents who need to meet with members of the government of Gijadon. Protected from scrying, augurs, and even gods, it is encased in an old temple complex of huge proportions. Down here in one of the city's many deep underlayers, it offers the epitome of privacy. Usually, guests are known in advance, giving the hotel an opportunity to prepare for any custom needs. Enormous rooms are held for larger devils and creatures beyond just tall. But they can also be used to impress guests with bedroom suites with thirty-plus-foot tall cathedral ceilings. Geometric stained glass abounds, magic lighting behind them to show them off--since the sun will never reach here. The most basic stay would cost 100 gold a night. Only trade partners meeting for standard trade negotiations typically pay these prices. Most guests are courtesy of the government.

Hag Marrowstrewn's Grand Ballroom

The restaurant of the hotel is decorated as a grand ballroom, with crystal chandeliers forty feet overhead and swathes of rich fabrics gathered around stone columns four feet in diameter. Chairs and tables meant for huge creatures to sit at are to the sides, with large to normal-sized tables in the center.

A cloud giant, appearing a bit old, is often hunched over a table of porcelain, linen, and a partially filled wine glass the size of a shipping barrel. He silently moves massive parchments about, looking for bits of an epiphany that is out of reach. He is a semi-permanent guest working on a long term project.

Marrowstrewn is considered a gourmet chef whose fame now draws visits from the planes just to taste her dishes. She has worked for the Lord of the State House for over forty years, entertaining him with amazing dishes. Of course, back then he wasn't Lord of the State House. He has had different faces over the years. He singlehandedly made the Darkest Gijadon a reality. He has had workers around the city siphoning the lost, the derelict, the unwanted, and those that have become undesirable steadily into the pantry cages of Marrowstrewn for decades. There are multiple reasons they say that anyone can disappear into Gijadon's teeming masses.

Marrowstrewn was wrapped in black and red fabrics, her brilliant red hair ran down her back in a braid lined with golden rings, colored gems pinned at every twist. She looked more like any chef greeting patrons than a hag who was just bent over a cauldron. She spoke to the Night Hag who had settled at a table, the two incubi standing three feet away to either side. The Night Hag grimaced, "No. I can't abide dwarf. They have a bad chew and they just don't taste right." Marrowstrewn smiled. "I'll start you off with that elvish sweetbread, but I'm bringing you the dwarven kabobs. It is leg meat," to which The Night Hag winced, "braised in black plum wines and deep spices. I guarantee it will make you love dwarf!"

Marrowstrewn can cook anything. She is a master of the flesh, muscle, and organs. There is no doubt her talent and experience outrun any other chef in the world. She has permanent cold trunks in the kitchen so she stored unused parts. One large trunk for each species to make it easy to find her ingredients. If it was known outside of the hotel, she would have the largest collection of herbs, spices, and salts in the world. It would make any chef envious and most apothecaries drool at the abundance of rarities. She has so many ingredients to draw from, she can please any tastes with what she already has.
Specials this week include Elvish Sweetbreads, Hot and Sweet Orc Ribs (an oft-asked for favorite), Elvish Rings (calamari wrapped around marinated elvish fingers, battered and fried with a spicy red sauce), Blood Pies, and Heavenly Guard Hash (a medley of meats from the exalted High Guard, chopped and blended with rare pink-fleshed potatoes, fried crispy and salty served with two Dragonborn eggs on top). An assortment of meals is offered with regularity due to an abundance of some ingredients. But she is always experimenting, always hunting for a cookbook from some far off place. There is no greater gift to her than a tome of recipes she has never seen.
Her perpetual stew of Dragonborn has reached a five year age. Perpetual stews are constantly simmered for a large part of the day. Ingredients are added, wasted ingredients, like last week's bones, are removed, and new ones added. It is an old custom in many taverns to offer a perpetual stew of anything that was available each day. This stew has been only Dragonborns for over five years now. This week it is being served with a special of Myconid Savory Rolls. She got her hands on some dried Myconids and ground them to meal and flour for earthy-flavored rolls. The perpetual stew is a favorite of many here, including the Lord of the State House.

The Lord of the State House, a tall dark-haired human, strode towards the table of the Night Hag, his ordinary garb melting away into rich robes and finery. His now furred hand, bent backward and facing the wrong way placed a purple pipe between his tiger-like lips and drew breath in. The pipeweed glowed a bright green. He exhaled smoke as he addressed the hag, "Grabby, it is so good to see you. Thank you for coming on such short notice."