Radiai the Plutonium Dragon
The Custom Nuclear Montre
Age: 3 years, 1 month, 4 days
Born: January 17th, 2016
Adopted: 3 years, 1 month, 4 days ago
Adopted: January 17th, 2016
- Level: 113
- Strength: 182
- Defense: 10
- Speed: 10
- Health: 10
- HP: 10/10
- Intelligence: 687
- Books Read: 679
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Couture Designer
“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”
Though the restaurant has won a combined total of twenty-six awards for culinary excellence, there is a feeling of family when you step through the doors of Chez Castemere. The padded red velvet chairs are molded for maximum comfort, the lighting is soothing without being stingy, and the soft music playing from hidden speakers makes youths exchange charged looks while older Subetans smile and remember strolls through Riverside in the days before Bits & Bytes opened its doors, a time when the only screens ever viewed were those of rabbit-eared television sets.
The wine bar offers exquisite vintages from smooth Cherry Chai Chardonnay to Shinwa's Sweet Riesling. There are non-alcoholic options, though even the water comes flavored with mint or lemon. Framed newspaper clippings and autographed pictures of celebrities hang on a wall with three spotlights, a station for the viewing pleasure of those interested in the prestigious restaurant's history. The bathrooms are conveniently located in alcoves to either side, boasting stainless steel stalls and touch-free technology.
The kitchen is state-of-the-art, housing sleek black ovens that can control temperature down to a half degree. Glowing copper saucepans that are as spotless as the day they were removed from their packaging hang from wire hooks up above. There are separate stations for preparing soup, sauces, salad, main course plates, and desserts.
Employees of Chez Castemere know their stations and what is expected. Though they develop a routine, there is not one that will tell you his or her job is boring. Every ingredient measured is a challenge in coordination and attention to detail. There is no such thing as good enough. Even the Experiment #3485 that washes the dishes takes the greatest care to clean her tentacles before each spray and to blast even the tiniest particles from the surface of each plate.
When you love the one you're working for, striving for perfection is never a burden.
Castemere is master of the kitchen, but he is never conceited or prideful. He takes the time to hear the concerns of every employee and does not dismiss the views of the lowliest shelf stocker any more readily than he would the opinions of his partner in business and best friend, Salvatore. He does not care about your gender, age, or who you love. If you have a passion for cooking and the motivation to keep up with the fast-paced environment of Subeta's best restaurant, he will welcome you to his world with open arms.
He does not tolerate laziness, harassment, or rudeness of any kind, regardless of whether you work for him or come as a guest. Those who try to pass their work onto others will find themselves back at Quick Bites soon enough. Master chefs that insist on using their authority to bully will be looking for a new job before a single saucepan comes to a boil. The customer may always be right, but they do not have the right to be nasty. If you mistreat his employees, you will find yourself escorted to the street by two very muscular mortikings who have a combined total of over five thousand battles between them.
That is not to say he is ruthless. Castemere seeks perfection, but he is forgiving of those that make the effort, even if they do not always succeed. He looks for improvement, especially in those youths he takes right out of culinary school. If you do better on the next dish and do not try to blame the world for those faults that come from within, his patience can be as deep as the oceans of Subeta.
Castemere passes through the central aisle as the evening rush begins in earnest. He takes the time to pause at the sauce station, a small silver spoon allowing him a taste of the creamy alfredo sauce that gets his sigh of approval. The Filet de Bovyne looks just right, paired with baby asparagus and potatoes that have been carved into roses and browned just slightly to give them the appearance of blossoms dipped in gold.
Most days he is right there in the kitchen, whistling snatches of his favorite songs and giving constructive criticism on every flavor to pass through the stations but some days require the boss to take a day in his office. Today is one of those days.
Radiai forsakes his perch on the sill of kitchen window today, following Castemere into the intimate office paneled in oak and carpeted with a green velvet that feels like the softest grass beneath his paws. The dragon is no less popular than his master as a fixture in the kitchen. He will watch the preparation of food for hours without trying to steal a taste and he excels at lightening the mood by cracking jokes. His bed in the office is padded to cushion the contours of his lithe body, allowing him to lie for hours while Castemere dreams up the next food sensation that will sweep Subeta.
Castemere barely has time to sit before Salvatore is there, thick leather tome in hand. The Experiment #104 is a math wizard, on top of being one of the most respected chefs to ever come out of Pete's Kitchen. He sees to it that Chez Castemere always turns a profit, even on those rare occasions when a new dish bombs. While Castemere is responsible for all the financial reports, he much prefers to leave the daily number crunching to his practical partner.
"Our figures for the third quarter are looking good, Castemere. I think we'll be able to afford the Ultron 3000 mixers next month, assuming Miss Feliana doesn't decide to cancel her wedding reception. The appetizers she's requested will pay for half the equipment."
Their discussion spans over the financial needs of a restaurant, covering everything from the quantity of silverware sets to be ordered to the feasibility of expanding the western wall of the restaurant.
Castemere nods in response to Salvatore's last comment, his mind playing over a problem that has plagued him all week. The Mallarchy Au Jus is a popular dish that has been on the menu for many years. While the custom orange ginger glaze is delicious, Castemere has always felt there is some ingredient lacking, something he could never quite bring to the front of his thoughts. He knows he is close. He knows he can figure this out. Sometimes it just takes a few quiet moments.
"I trust you, my friend."
"Your confidence gives me confidence. I will have the report on your desk first thing in the morning for signature." Salvatore takes his departure, well accustomed to the habits of Castemere after so many years. There are times when the founder needs to be left alone with his thoughts. His fixed gaze on the little cabinet in the corner is a telltale sign that his mind is far away. The pair of doors at the base are accessible to any employee, though they would not dream of handling the precious writings of Grandma Castemere with so much as a drop of water on their paws.
The drawer above remains locked at all times, its tiny golden key worn on Castemere' neck on a silver chain. Salvatore knows its contents from a late-night conversation involving a bitter blizzard and far too much bourbon. It is a secret the stoic head chef will take to his grave, one that reveals the depths of what Castemere and Radiai have suffered.
Shady Acres was a development built on the outskirts of Riverside at a time when the nuclear plants of Subeta were in their infancy. Castemere had grown up near the river, adoring weekends spent baking cookies with his grandmother and fishing trips with his father. His was a close-knit family, the kind they try to re-create in TV commercials.
He'd been overjoyed to get his letter from the Riverside Culinary Academy. His new apartment was only three blocks from home and his first set of cooking utensils was included in his tuition. Life couldn't get much better.
Until he met Tanya, that is. The fiery demi was as much an artist as a cook, her ideas of new and healthy options a revolution in culinary thinking. Castemere could spend hours debating the finer points of buying fresh-cut market herbs as opposed to operating an herb garden. They found a willow tree that became their place to sit together and laze in the sun when finals were finished and they were preparing to go home for the summer. They would lie there and stare at the ugly columns of white smoke blotting out the sun, never imagining that anything could ever take away such sheer happiness.
The meltdown occurred at three in the morning. Most of the victims didn't even wake up enough to hear the sirens that went off an hour too late. By the time the special team was sent in from Centropolis, nearly five hundred citizens of Riverside's eastern border were dead or dying.
It always makes Castemere a little sick to see Subetans creating the stabilized potion that allows them to take on the nuclear color without the unpleasant side effects he went through. He remembers a brief time where he simply stared up at the bland white cieling of his apartment, hurting too much to even attempt to get up. He does not remember being transported to the hospital.
He woke in a room coated in plastic and smelling strongly of disinfectant. The hospital workers in their protective gear wouldn't talk to him at first. They kept trying to reassure him that he would be fine. Their frightened stares at the glowing green patches on his fur were anything but reassuring. They came every day to run their strange metal devices over his body, machines that created a whine so high-pitched it hurt his ears, It wasn't until the radiation readers fell to zero that any of them would stay in a room with him for more than five minutes. A bumbus in a business suit sat down to explain the meltdown. Castemere did not fail to notice that the bumbus still wore a protective suit.
The first thing he did was to ask for his minion. Radiai's magical core had allowed him to escape any harmful effects aside from a new greenish tint to his scales.
"My girlfriend Tanya Demios lived in the same set of units. Is she here? Is she alright?"
The bumbus shook his head. "There were only a dozen survivors, yourself included. I have their list of names here. Miss Demios is not among them."
Castemere fell back in his bed, howling his agony until a nurse came to sedate him. To add insult to injury, he learned that they would not allow him to leave until they were absolutely certain he could not spread any sort of contagion. They could not afford some sort of Nuclear Survival disaster.
He might never leave the hospital. He might live out his days with eleven other walking skeletons, never allowed to pursue his dream of cooking for the masses. Waiting for the test results was the hardest thing he'd ever done.
Though they came back negative, it was still almost a year before they released him. Construction on Chez Castemere began immediately, funded by the settlement that was supposed to make up for the loss of everyone he loved. He'd chosen to build in Centropolis, desperate to get away from Riverside and the bittersweet memories brought on every time he walked beside the river.
Inspiration strikes from out of nowhere, as all creative minds know it can. Castemere rummages through the center drawer of his desk, coming up with the green leather book that has different slices of cake printed in each corner. It is his recipe correction journal, used to improve old tastes and develop new ones without ever altering the original recipe cards.
Rosemary. How could he possibly miss such an obvious herb compliment as rosemary?
The new and improved Mallarchy Au Jus is an instant success and award twenty-seven is not long in coming.
Edited by: Chrysariel
Story by: Pureflower
Overlay Recolor By: Necolasa and Chrysariel
Background: Ratatouille by Pixar
Red Chef Toque
Red Chef Jacket
Black Chef Toque
Black Chef Jacket
White Chef Toque
White Chef Jacket
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Rectangular Cast Iron Stove
Replica Wood-Fired Pizza Oven
Electric Meat Grinder
Manual Meat Grinder
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Small Copper Pan
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Copper Casserole Pot
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Chef Fillet Knife
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Consecrated Olive Oil
Whole Vanilla Beans
Whole Cinnamon Sticks
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Carton of Two Percent Milk
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Stick of Butter