Syratto's

Syratto's: Exquisite Meals for the Gourmet at Heart

A hellishly upscale breeding between an ogre's cafeteria and an Olive Garden.

Any well-traveled diner may find himself or herself in the opulent restaurant at one point in their life. Those of Noble tastes or boredom might have a reservation, or possibly a permanent seat. Do not worry - there's always room, but the honored ritual of placing a reservation ahead of time is seen as a blessing toward safe passage through the establishment.

While advertised as a franchise in many major cities (Syratto's of New Orleans and Syratto's of Paris, to name a few), every variant inevitably opens up to the flagship restaurant. It's true location isn't known or pondered; it must surely reside at the foot of Hell for service to subtle depravity or beneath the gates of Heaven for its dedication to culinary perfection.

Once seated, the menu is quite brief. A list of drinks and starters. The entree of the day is fixed and carefully prepared by the finest of chefs that couldn't gather the right appreciation out in the Prosaic.

While at Syratto's you're advised against two specific actions:

  • Don't ask the price - you can't afford it.
  • Don't ask what's for dinner - you can't stomach it.

Few have tried to trace back the infamous cuisine to its origins. The answers vary according to who you ask. Some will tell you fallen Concepts and things lost to sacrifices of the Estate that no longer hold a place in this world. Others speak of Powers who died of mysterious circumstances. And maybe you'll hear of big-game hunters who cross the Weirding Wall into the Beyond in search of succulent meats.

Whatever the meal may be, it is certainly exotic. Something to only be tasted on one occasion. There's enough of it to go around as the place operates on an all-you-can-bear-to-eat basis.

If one doesn't look to sate their hunger there's a bar downstairs. It's frequented by ogres and all sorts of unsightly but well-paying customers. Syratto himself mans the taps; an ogre of extreme age with a face like the ass of an atom bomb - no good to be around and you'll go blind if you stare.

Tifon Leer hangs out here when his hunger can only be assuaged by a nice sit-down meal. His Anchor, Arthur Merrow, killed Syratto's brother in a bar fight here and became known as the Scarred Man. No one really missed the bastard and life goes on.

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