Yes, YES! The little arcanist could hardly contain herself, excitement barely contained within her tiny four foot and ten inch body! Never before had she ever dreamed she would be able to experience something like this, not in a thousand years. And now, thanks to minor magical mishap–the occasion finally came. While an ordinary researcher would be more interested in what had gone into the infamous enlargement elixir, there was only one thing on Myouga's mind. Standing on a barrel as she overlooked the incoming flock, she threw her arms up as a cornucopia-shaped horn rested in her hands. At the top of her lungs she shouted: "IT'S TURKEY TIMEEEE!!!" She had only used this enchanted instrument once before this glorious hour, and now it was its time to shine. Despite the devastation the gigantic gobblers had caused, she had no fear. After all she had an army…her own army of titanic turkeys at her disposal! Flying high, she put the horn to her lips and blew–making a rather pathetic, off-key sound like air rushing out of a punctured air bladder. 

Rumbling could be heard as a new group of massive gobblers came on the scene, stampeding towards the incoming front of foul-tempered flock. A small cackling figure darted into the fray, leaving trails of smoke in its wake. A rather ugly looking corgi was dashing into the crashing lines of birds, tongue dangling and flecks of drool on the wind. "GO GET 'EM GEORGE!" The small oni yelled at one of the turkeys summoned by her gobble horn. To tell the truth, they all looked exactly the same so whichever bird the name was aimed at was of little consequence. Literally any of them could be labeled 'George' and it wouldn't matter. The midget mage's attempts only further complicated the hunters' progress as they had no idea which side of turkeys to focus on. Feathers would fly as the toms and hens crashed on a scale of epic proportions, neither side willing to give an inch. There was a lot of dust being kicked up and a very real danger of trampling, which was why she had her flying armor on so she could spectate.

Away from the ruckus, there was a furry visitor of the magical variety who was enjoying the sights and smells of the Horae fairies' potluck. While her human had left on his horse, Zaya stayed behind to explore the new area. She wandered around the booths attracting the attention of merrymakers, receiving many scratches behind the ears and pats down her back. The cat watched the games with interest, despite not being able to participate in most of them. At the apple bobbing booth she stood up on her hind legs to place her front paws against the tub's rim, watching the ripe fruit float by as people tried to grab them with their mouths. Zaya saw a bright yellow one drift close, and proceeded to bat at it until it was close to the edge. Her paws couldn't pick it up though, but the fairy in charge of the booth fished it out for her efforts. She rubbed her head against the fairy's hand and purred before carefully taking the fruit by the stem and padding away. After all the cat wanted to bring back something for her human to eat while he was out finding something for her. 

Bringing the apple to an empty table, she hopped up on top and dropped the fruit. Looking around, she sniffed the air as something delicious was nearby. There were tables covered in warm food, food she had never seen or tasted before. Following her stroll she was feeling a little hungry, and her human wouldn't mind if she ate a little before he came back. Moseying over, she stood up to peer at the dishes. There was no room for her to jump up on the tabletop, and she didn't want someone to be upset. Skirting around the edges of the buffet tables she sniffed to see there was anything within biting distance. A normal-sized roast turkey was placed not too far from her sight and she began to prepare her pounce. One, two, three! Zaya leaped into the air and snagged her teeth on the end of a drumstick, only to find she was sliding back down. As she struggled to keep her jaws on the meaty bone and her paws on something solid, the tender poultry gave away and it tore. A partial chunk of meat remained at the end of the leg bone while the golden-brown skin and majority of the fattier parts were still on the platter. Satisfied with her spoils, Zaya strutted back to her apple and started picking the turkey leg clean. 

Luckily for her, the piece of meat she had gotten was free of anything that was off-limits for cats. It was a tad greasier than she would like, but it wasn't too much to give her problems. When she was finished with her snack, she took the bone and tossed it where she saw the two-legged beings were throwing things they found inedible. Returning to her spot she began to clean her face and paws from the turkey.

"Knickers… They've really done it this time, haven't they?" The invitation to visit Horae was well-received by the orc chef-in-training. A potluck was both a challenge and an opportunity to broaden his culinary experiences. Delanac had originally planned to take part in the big game hunting, but one glimpse at the birds told him he'd better not press his luck or risk being stuffed. His second plan was to put the carcasses to use after the hunters brought them in, but even that was a conundrum and a half. "Prepare one of those big ol' beasties? You're havin' a laugh! Proper massive they are–won't find any spits long enough to turn 'em on." So much for the rotisserie part of the menu. The only way they would have the turkeys cooked was if they were first cut down to size and then slow-roasted. Some more magically talented folk might ask, 'Delanac why don't ya just use a wee bit o' fire magic to make the meat roast faster? No harm in addin' more heat, is there?' But that's where you'd be wrong. Cooking a big piece of meat can't be rushed or else you turn the slab into a dry tasteless plank. Cutting it into smaller bits meant cutting down the cooking time while keeping the meat moist. And if there's one thing most can agree on, nobody likes eating dry poultry. 

Taking a break to mull over it he helped himself to a plate of roast beef and mashed potato casserole. He took a few yams for Bran to snack on, planning to come back for seconds. It was then that he caught sight of a big house cat making off with a turkey leg. It was a miracle that the rest of the cooked bird didn't go with it. He watched it trot away in stunned silence. The potluck was an open affair so pets and the like could come and have a bite, but it was still surprising. The orc was greeted by Bran's grin and wagging tail as he set the dish down for the jackal to eat from. "Here you go, boy. Don't eat it all in one gulp." He himself was just as eager to dig in to see what kind of seasoning and spices the kindly folk used in their food. 

She was feeling kinda hungry after all that yelling and her throat was parched. Maybe the drinks had been refilled while she'd been busy with shenanigans. Wobbling in the air over to the buffet tables Myouga greedily filled a tankard using telekinesis. While she was blissfully making herself plastered, her unsupervised krampus corgi returned from the hunting grounds lured in by the delicious aroma of holiday meats. Kuroguro's appetite was nearly bottomless and when his beady canine eyes spied an innocent bystander with an untouched turkey drumstick he made a beeline for him. The poor halfling never saw him coming before the maniacal cackling and smoke hit. The curly-haired hobbit was knocked to the ground as the fiendish dog absconded with his lunch. Devouring all except the bone, Kuroguro's hunger was not yet sated as he looked for more. He was a crafty corgi–preferring to pick off choice bits pre-carved by merrymakers rather than steal a whole bird for himself. Unfortunately his next target happened to be a male orc who was getting ready to take a bite out of a thick slice of glazed ham. The jackal sitting next to the orc stood up alert to witness the corgi's attempted mealtime robbery before its smoky trail left his owner coughing. "What the blazes–that cheeky blighter ran off with my ham!"

This would not stand, and now a very bothered orc–along with his dog, was on the thieving cur's tail in hot pursuit. Scarfing the meat down Kuroguro licked his lips to see he was being chased. A hyena's laugh echoed in the air as he continued his reign of terror to fill his stomach. He swiped all sorts of delicacies: buttered rolls, slices of pie, savory sausage, baked treats, and more. The vegetables were left alone unsurprisingly, and the potato casserole lovers rejoiced. A new smell steered the krampus corgi around until a lone golden-yellow apple sat on a tabletop. More interested in the color than the fruit, the gluttonous snaggle-toothed jaws of the dog clamped down on the apple as he whizzed by leaving a puddle of crushed pulp and juice. 

Zaya had been peacefully grooming her fur when the theft occurred. Her ears perked up at the rapidly approaching cackling noise and turned her head to see a hideous sooty blur rush by. The cat's pupils widened in dismay as she saw and heard her precious apple disappear with a loud crunch! The feline stood up on all fours and let out a pitiful cry, mourning the untimely fate of her hard-earned prize. That was meant to be her gift to her human when he came back! Running to the edge of the table she let out a long drawn-out meow to voice her discontent. Her bushy tail flicked back and forth in irritation before sitting down, watching as the ugly dog became a dark speck. Ears flattening against her head, Zaya gazed forlornly at what was left of her apple. She remembered choosing the biggest, prettiest one from the pond it had been swimming in. Where would she find a suitable replacement gift now? 

Then she had a idea. Hopping off the table Zaya ran back to the booths to see what they had. Green eyes stared at dough puffing up in hot oil, a roll of dough being twisted into a loopy shape, things dipped in a rich glossy liquid then rolled through crushed nuts, and little rocks poured into a machine that created colored, wispy clouds that looked like magic. None of these were what the cat was looking for. They were too fragile or would get cold. After accepting more scratches under the chin she moved on until she found the apple bobbing station again. Her whiskers twitched as her tail raised high. Yes, this was the place she got her first gift! Standing up to peer over the rim of the nearest tub, curious eyes followed the floating fruit as Zaya was determining which one she liked. 

"Hello there~ Aren't you the kitty who came by earlier today? Are you collecting apples, hm?" The booth's tender came out,  ruffling her fingers through Zaya's soft layered ruff. The large house cat purred, closing her eyes to rub against the fairy woman's hand. "What's the matter? Feeling under the weather?" It was then that she noticed Zaya eyeing the tubs. Patting the cat on the head, she smiled before walking over to them. Zaya followed her and the fairy pushed the apples by the cat to see which one caught her fancy. It was a hard choice,  but the cat finally settled on a beautiful blush pink apple. Carefully checking her surroundings for the fruit-stealing corgi, she batted at the one she wanted and waited patiently for the lady to fish it out. She carried it in her mouth this time as she walked around the festival grounds searching for hide or hair of her nomad companion. 

As the hideous mutt flew into the sky, Delanac was left in its smoke. Putting a hand to his head, the orc let out a big sigh. There was no point chasing after stolen ham. Bran was barking up a storm but what was gone was gone. Picking up the jackal, he turned and walked back to where they had been sitting. Maybe this was a sign from above that he should give that turkey meat a go. Polishing off what was left on his plate, he set it aside as he got a good fire going. The stones were set up and the coals were slowly heating. His cast iron pan would need time to get to the right temperature, but he couldn't put it on too early. Cast iron took a while to heat but it held onto it well after the cinders died out. But with the size of his pan, that wouldn't do much to put a dent into a giant turkey breast. It appeared he wasn't the only one with the same idea as he saw others set up makeshift griddles and grates to accommodate the most meat possible. Perhaps he should ask around and see if anyone was willing to share their cooking space with him. 

Smoke started rising and the coals turned that familiar glowing red. Even after not picking up a blacksmith's hammer for years, he still remembered the sights and smells of the forge. This was one thing that carried over into his cooking, the knowledge of the fire and its heat applied to the raw materials. Turkey meat overdone was notorious for being stringy and dry, so keeping moisture was crucial for an edible product. While he would've loved to make a brine, he'd have to make do with a dry rub–using the salt to encourage the meat to hold onto whatever juices it had. Puncturing the surface of the slab of white meat, he rubbed a coarse salt blend with ground spices into it on both sides. Letting it rest in a covered metal container with nevermelting icicles beneath, it was left to cure for a few hours until the coals were where he wanted them. The icicles were borrowed from some kindly folk who were making use of what they had on hand as well. Since there was plenty of time before it was time to cook, most of the cooks were preparing other dishes or taking the chance to sit back. 

A few hours later, Delanac went to check up on his meat's progress. The dry rub had incorporated well with the raw turkey and the pan was searing hot. Having cut the meat down in thickness, he carefully dropped the cutlet-sized pieces onto the hot cast iron causing a crisp sizzle of steam. The moment the cold meat hit the pan, the spice-infused salt rub released its fragrances while helping the meat form a flavorful crust. A dollop of golden butter made it smell even better, and it was tempting to move the pan around. But patience told him to leave it for a few minutes longer, then it would be time to flip the pieces to sear the other side. Cleaning his hands, whole onions and root vegetables were chopped. Some were for flavor and some were for presentation. They went into the heated pot he used for stews since his frying pan was full and he stirred with a special long wooden spoon he had purchased while passing through an Irian market. 

Since potatoes were already on the potluck menu, he wanted to make a bold mix of different cuisines. The turkey would be seared with butter and melted cheese just like how they made it back in Yovaesh, but the vegetables would make a rich and creamy risotto. He had a pouch of special rice for the occasion, as you couldn't just use any old rice grains to make it. Some varieties of rice wouldn't hold up to a risotto's slow cooking. Pouring in a warm bottle of chicken soup he deglazed the pot causing another plume of delicious-smelling steam to rise into the air. The rice had been toasted prior to adding the broth, and now he had to let it simmer for an hour or two before it was the right consistency. Thankfully he wouldn't need to wait too long as the soup stock cut down on his preparation time. He was back before the turkey pieces again, making sure they were cooked through but not dried. The salt rub had worked its magic–and the butter needed another dollop.

Ah, he could see it now…tender slices of seasoned turkey with a side of warm, hearty chicken-vegetable risotto. There wouldn't be any gravy this time, as he had a wedge of aged cheese he intended to grate over everything. Bran was dancing back and forth between the pan and the pot, tail wagging in excitement. "Full of beans you are, Bran! Not that I blame you–barely holding back myself, I am. That turkey's proper tempting, especially when it's almost done. I'm going to have it cool for a bit first once it gets there. Don't want to sear your tongue before you've had a bite." It was amazing how time would fly by when you were cooking. With all the progress he had made, Delanac had completely forgotten about his purloined ham.

The warm, fuzzy feeling she got from all that cider had worn off and she realized her krampus corgi was missing. Finding him wasn't too hard, as the little arcanist tracked him down to the buffet tables sniping meat off of visitors' plates. With a toss of the Reverie snow globe he was sucked back into time-out, and his owner was left to apologize to his victims for his mess. Fortunately there was plenty of food to go around for everyone, especially with people carving up the giant turkeys once they were killed. A fresh round of chefs were making use of the tons of fresh meat, using whatever methods possible to make turkey a thousand ways. There were meatballs, sandwiches, soups, steaks, you name it. If you could substitute turkey in there, it could be done. Her appetite had come back so Myouga was going around for round two of her potluck graze, starting back at the main course. With a new plate and a clean pair of utensils, she was ready to dive back in. 

Patchouli, her funny jackalope familiar, was also eager to have a taste of what the potluck guests were cooking. It was their way of returning the favor of the Horae fairies' hospitality. Tis the season for giving thanks, and what better way than to have giving go both ways? A sea of spiced smells overtook the air as the great Horae cook-off began unofficially. Closing her eyes, she could single out the different flavors and scents of places she had eaten at before. Adelunian butter and heavy cream, Abedi garam masala spice, Ataiyan savory sauce, and Irian barbecue. The sour-sweet notes of Jayou were simmering away and the fiery-hot roasted chilies of Mamlak made eyes water. This was gonna be great! A party in her mouth and stomach–and boy was she ready. The hardest part wasn't choosing, it was waiting for the first dish to be ready! A large crowd was already gathering with building anticipation of what the chefs would bring to the table. 

Protecting an apple was hard work, and Zaya couldn't carry it around forever. Sounds of metal and cracking fires signaled that something was happening, which her curiosity beckoned her to see. The people were putting together places to make campfires and hanging pots or placing metal racks over them. The sizzle of rendering fat and savory aroma made the cat lick her lips. So many feet were out and about that she needed to find a safe place to lie down while keeping watch over her prize. There was no sign of her human yet, and she had a little time to sit and watch what was going on. Finding a suitable spot within comfortable distance of the heat of a fire, the long-haired cat had a seat and curled up, apple resting under her paws. There was a black dog here, but she was about the same size as it. It looked far less ugly and threatening than that flying thing which smelled of smoke, the horrible apple-thief! The dog's 'human' was looking at a black pot and an equally black pan. From her vantage point, there was something delicious inside both of them.

To Zaya all things who walked on two legs and had furless skin were 'humans', as the spirit guardian did not know any better. But that is for another time, instead let us return to the savory, sensational delights coming together before her very eyes. The meat was moved carefully out of the coal-black pan onto a big plate. It was big enough for her to stretch out on and the material looked like she would enjoy its coolness in the hotter months. It was smooth and white, very pretty, and had an upwards curling edge along the rim. The meat was arranged on it, then left by itself as the tall dark-skinned orc went to inspect the pot. With a big, straight spoon he took out a cooked mixture of orange and yellow, with bits of green. She remembered how Naram would make similar food, but not give her any if it had the green things. The man here scooped off the yellow potatoes and carrots that had no green and set them into a separate bowl out of reach from the excited dog. It was steaming hot, but it smelled so good. 

"Ahh, a lovely smell–isn't it Bran? Nothing like a warming stew to chase the chill out of your bones. No sneaking bites now, boy. Proper boiling it is, you'll scald your mouth off eating it." Delanac had nearly forgotten to set some stew aside for Bran in his haste to get the turkey cooking. He had thrown in the scallions without a second thought and only realized it once everything was done. The potatoes were tender, the carrots soft, and the chicken broth flavored everything well. Taking care to avoid getting any scallion, the orc fished out a few pieces without the liquid and checked the turkey rarebit. Slicing into a piece of well-seasoned turkey breast, the inside was moist and the juices ran clear. Fortunately the spiced salt rub was only stuck to the outermost part of the meat, so he cut away the inner portion to add to the bowl. And as always, a little shaving of cheese on the still-steaming food. Fanning the dish for a few minutes, he put the bowl down for his jackal when it was just warm. "A proper saint you've been Bran, have a taste. Nearly forgot about you I did, but it seems I wasn't too off the mark today." 

Bran eagerly tore into the food, his tail nearly about to wag itself off. His whining stopped as he scarfed down the tender turkey meat and stew, happily licking the bowl clean of any bits. A joyous bark was all he had to say to let the orc know he wholeheartedly approved. "There's more where that came from! Give me a moment and you'll have another." There was plenty of turkey to go around, so there was no reason to be a miser today. Bran could eat to his heart's content and the white meat was a special treat for them both. They had the Horae fairies to thank for this fortunate turn of events. Not to mention those brave souls who were hunting the birds down and bringing them back to be plucked and butchered. When Bran was busy helping himself to seconds, Delanac noticed some of the other chefs were done with their meats as well. An empty table was set up where they could share their recipes with other chefs and festival-goers, and all of the dishes looked mighty tempting. A steaming cauldron of Abedian turkey curry sat beside a mountain of fragrant, fluffed rice. Marinated skewers of dark meat were seasoned with a hot and sour sauce. A cast-iron dutch over revealed several pieces of dark and white turkey meat, braised in blend of wine, vinegar, dry spice, and tomatoes.

It was a crying shame that most of the fanfare wasn't dog-friendly, but he had more than enough to keep Bran full. After hours of working hard, it was time to grab a bite and relax. Someone had brought a cask of Baltil ale and attached a spigot, and there was no time like the present to take a swig. Once his turkey rarebit and vegetable chicken stew were added to the spread, Delanac began taking a little of every other dish to start. There were more dishes on their way, as some ambitious folks had taken up the challenge to slow roast and smoke the turkey. 

"Ohhh~ Thish ish sho goooood–" The small oni said with her mouth full, greedily sampling one of everything on the table of new, steaming hot dishes. It was a smorgasbord of sauces, a party of international flavors all in one plate. She could count how many places she was tasting with her eyes closed. That was what being a self-proclaimed foodie did for you. The Abedian curry was xacutti, more coconutty and creamy. If it had been more sour with a garlicky kick–that'd be vindaloo. Another big hint to the curry was the rice. Plain, fluffy long grain rice was what Abedi restaurants served if it was a xacutti dish. Karithian hot and sour sauce made the turkey skewers taste like chicken. It was chili red with a consistency of watery syrup, and the vinegar was what gave it the acid. It was probably distilled white vinegar, with how strong the sourness was. Other varieties of vinegar had their own unique flavors. The braised turkey was definitely a hearty Adelunian substitution. They liked their red wines with red meats, but there was no harm in trying with something different. Even more creative and delicious fusions were on the way to her mouth and ultimately her stomach. This was great!

The list of turkey-themed food went on as fresh dishes replaced the ones already emptied. Turkey rolls, stuffed turkey breast, turkey breaded cutlet, fried turkey, turkey sandwiches, turkey meatballs, turkey carbonara–if it could be done, they did it. Some people decided to go a little wild and tried to make the turkey with something sweet. Roasted turkey with cherry and apricot sauce garnished with candied nuts was a combination of the Venti festival holiday classics. Turkey noodle soup was being ladled by the bowlful as she got herself a cup, and Patchouli was taking its own tour of the buffet. Both of their eyes went wide when a massive turkey pot pie came to the table, swooping in to get a slice with a perfect chunk of flaky crust. If anyone ever thought turkey was boring, this would cure that mindset. 

Once the first batch of turkey-gobblers were full, the inevitable 'turkey food coma' hit. The Turkey Food Coma was a well-known phenomenon observed for decades which boiled down to the understanding that if you ate a lot of turkey in one sitting–you'd fall asleep for a few hours without fail right after. This was first observed by a scholar who had to spend weeks sitting through traditionally-enforced family gatherings at the end of the year must to his chagrin. He wasn't particularly eager to spend time with his in-laws, so when he noticed quite a few of them nodded off following a rather large turkey meal, that got the gears in his head spinning. While he mentioned his observations in an off-hand comment to his more socially-inclined colleagues, a few of them decided to run experiments while he ensured a main course of the bird whenever his in-laws were coming over. Thus this curious phenomenon was dubbed the 'Turkey Food Coma', as no other bird when consumed in the same quantities caused the same intense desire to fall into temporary hibernation. Myouga and her jackalope familiar were by no means immune to this, as they both passed out once their plates were totally cleared–snoring up a storm.