Alvir, The Throat That Roars
Alvir is the fourth soul of Hrotsvitha, a demon of the Second Circle and one of the most inventive chefs in all Creation. His style refuses to abide by the common rules of cooking, nor the complex theorems of terrestrial essence applied by those most devoted to the craft; Alvir prefers to cook with a wild abandon for convention to bring about equally extreme reactions from his audience.
It was not always so for Alvir, for he had served another role within the pantheon of souls that make up Isidoros. But at some distant time lost to myth, on his frequent summonings to Creation, he became enamored with the delicacies of local cuisines. When returned to the stomach of Malfeas he set himself to mastering the craft in his spare years, without care for the stringent rules of Motonic Gastronomy that restrained divine cuisine. In time the most bold of the Celestial Exalted discovered this new use for their servant, with decadent Princes of the Earth vying with each other over Alvir's inventions.
Alvir's past is forgotten to the sorcerers of the fallen Age of Sorrows, who know him only by his chosen title as the Throat That Roars and current vocation. In the exquisitely painted pages of Heptagram tomes he appears as a ferocious pot-bellied frog with a wide, flat tongue and a blue lion's mane, belching indigo fire into the sky. This is a form he has abandoned for centuries, preferring to appear in a mortal form that retains his distinctive mane. Due to his coloration and penchant for piercings of brass, he might be mistaken for a Lintha to those well-traveled in the southwestern oceans. Regardless of form he brings with him a small panoply of artifacts for the purpose of finest cuisine: most famous of his monstrous wonders is a horn of plenty, a black and twisted antler in which he stores thousands of rare and exotic ingredients to be conjured fresh at a whim, though he maintains lesser tools of Brass and Orichalc as well.
At present the Throat That Roars serves within the Crystal Palace at behest of Princess Mnemon as head of her kitchen staff; those few Dynasts who interact with the ancient demon find it near impossible to see banquets completed unless they care to address it only by its title and never by its true name. It is a testy creature who demands all push themselves to their limits in their labors, a standard it exacts from even the children of the Princess when they are placed under his wing. Those who complain are reminded of the lessons of Pasiap: that luxury is worthless when it does not reflect hard work.
