The three arrived at the entry to the outpost where rocks of various shapes were being piled up to add some measure of defence for the oncoming onslaught. The green figure called out with the voice of a Command Sergeant Major “Kitchen party, HALT!” and the three came to attention. Setting aside her amazement for a moment, Alatearamae managed to call out to the three “Stand to and Identify” to which the green individual took one step forward and proclaimed loudly “I am Celarius, First kitchen hand of the mighty Pothcroth, most mighty God of cooking. Salivate at his words mortal. He has heard your cries for help and while he is unable to attend due to his obligation to oversee the banquet of the heavens, we have been dispatched to render aid”. The yellow individual then stepped forward and proclaimed “I am Edamgouda, second kitchen hand of the mighty Pothcroth”. A second or two transpired before the third character stepped forward and bumbingly proclaimed “Indeed, he is Edamgouda, of that I can assure you.” A blank expression then set in on his face and a long awkward silence ensued, eventually broken by Alatearamae, growing impatient, who simply said “And you are…?”. Celarius reached over and smacked the red character up the back of the head, growling “She wants your name, not his”. The red character blinked hard and a look of concentration came across his face. Finally, he managed to say “Yea. I’m Semillion”, looking over at Celarius as if to make sure he had his own name right.
“Stand by to render honours, I shall be down to greet you presently as commander of this outpost” Alatearame called out, turning back towards the ladder. Once on the ground, her principal lieutenant, Nemmin, appeared at her side displaying a look of consternation. “Seriously commander? Is this ALL the help we’re going to get? We have cooks enough already and at least ours can remember their own names. We need soldiers.” The commander barely broke stride as she addressed her right hand officer “Nemmin, of all people, I would expect you to have an open mind. You are barely 5 foot tall and weigh no more than 100lbs, yet are one of the bravest and most skillful warriors in our kingdom. Besides, any help is better than no help at all”. Chastised, Nemmin fell into position to his commander’s right, 1 pace behind. Despite her strong words of support, Alatearame was also rather perplexed by this turn of events. Upon approaching the entryway, she noticed that her troops had stopped work to gawk at the odd characters that had arrived to render some form of aid, though at a man, each of them was highly sceptical about the effectiveness of said aid. “Back to work you lot, we’ve still got plenty of the green skinned bastards left to kill”.
Marching right up to Celarius, Alatearame stood to attention. Completely fearless of Gods and men, especially those with such odd henchmen, she was never one to mince words so came straight out and asked “So let me get this straight. Your God couldn’t be bothered coming because he had some sort of banquet to attend and so he sent you? The annihilation of our kingdom is less important than some sort of cosmic buffet?” The three divine kitchenhands looked at each other in a state of bewilderment until Edamgouda turned to Alatearame and explained “Well, of course. There’s sky candy there. Have you ever HAD sky candy? It’s really good. Tastes like salt water taffy.” Celarius chimed in “Do you know why sky candy tastes like salt water taffy?” Alatearame barely managed to conceal her frustrations and stated a simple “No”. “Neither do we” Semillion jabbered from behind the other two, having fallen out of formation to look at a passing butterfly. “It’s a mystery that we may never understand and a question we will seek to answer for all of time” mourned Celarius.
Alatearame’s face dropped as she began mourning for her once proud kingdom that would surely be overrun by the Orcish hordes if these three buffoons were all the help she was going to get. Turning back to address the three, she showed a battleworn persona that was almost unidentifiable as the proud Ebulonite commander that she was. “Look. I don’t want to sound unappreciative but we’ve really got our backs against the wall here. Our position has been badly mauled already and that was just the Orc vanguard. I’m down to 30% combat effectiveness. My fortifications are almost gone and the main force of the horde is still out there. We’ve been trying to hold the entry point long enough for the reinforcements to arrive from the other worlds and you must understand my concern that the only help we’ve received is three kitchenhands. Cooks we have in abundance but we need Warriors, not snacks. Can the three of you even fight?”
The three shared a knowing look and in unison, their faces began to sink into their skulls like a sinkhole and a loud whistle like a kettle began to come from each of them. Alatearame was not overly impressed. While annoying, this noise would do nothing to stop the hordes. Moments later, it was as if small explosions were happening under the skin of the three and they began to grow and take on a more defined form. Chiselled muscle structure began appearing on their abdomen and arms and they were gaining height rapidly. A mysterious ethereal light encompassed the three, split only by bolts of lighting that seemed to emanate from within each of them. The shrill whistle began to change too, sounding as if the shofar had blown a call to war. The now gargantuan sized divine kitchenhands began to inspire hope in Alatearame, impressive as their form now was, but the transformation was not yet complete. An array of pots and pans began to appear around the three, forming up as armour on their skin, coming together with the clash of a thousand broadswords. Large saucepans descended onto each of their heads and as the dust begins to settle, Alatearame saw the divine kitchenhands in their new form clearly. Their faces were no longer round and jolly but rather fierce and intimidating. Their armour appeared as an impenetrable layer of cookery. Truly, they now looked like demigods. Strange demigods but demigods nonetheless. The three each stepped forward in turn and the handle on their saucepan helmets snapped down over their face as an additional protection. They were truly a fearsome sight except for Semillion who was rubbing his face and crying quietly from where his face guard had smacked him in the nose.
Alatearame was almost stunned beyond words. The doubt and uncertainty that she had been grappling with all day was suddenly boiled off like the morning fog and she truly believed now that they had a fighting chance. “Ok. I’m impressed. We may yet win this thing. If you gentlemen would come with me please, I’d like to show you what we’re up against.” She turned on her heel and began her march back towards the lookout post, the three divine kitchenhands following closely behind her. As she scaled the ladder with all the expertise of a professional soldier, the three simply began climbing the wall beside her as if it were the most natural thing in the world for them to be defying gravity. Reaching the top, they waited patiently for Alatearame to join them. Upon reaching the lookout post, Alatearame walked past the three and pointed out across the battlefield, preparing to begin her briefing. She politely ignored the ongoing sniffles of Semillion who was still rather upset by his unpleasant encounter with his own armour.