It had been a long day of work, but alas the clock told Retchy P. and the others aboard the docked ship that operated as a restaurant it was finally closing time. Being a senior member of the staff team, Retchy P. wouldn't need to stick around to actually do all the scrubbing and cleaning that came when the customers were herded out of the establishment. Gathering his things, fishing rod, a jacket, and his cooking ware, he slipped his arms in the sleeves of his Louis V windbreaker and headed out. The night air did wonders after a long day of being cramped up in the kitchen cooking with flames, sweat, and other sweaty people all day. The illuminated sight of Baterilla at night was also a sight that Retchy P. always enjoyed. The yellow lights surreally appeared like golden crystals hung on the street corners and periodically against the building walls to provide proper illumination for those who ventured out at night. Even at such an hour, a measly nine, the young cats were still running amuck and doing what young cats did while the older fellows or as Retchy P. liked to say, more responsible blokes with jobs, headed home to their families.

"Excuse me! Are you Retchy P. Jr.?" A young male in some clothing that reeked of sea water and foreign lands approached with an envelop in hand, not your typical mailman. "Yes, that would be me, how can I help you son." The youngin' stopped in front of him and handed him the letter. "It's a summon to Wonton Island, the ship embarks in an hour so it's best if you decide your going now so, we can keep the schedule rolling and arrive on time."

Retchy P. opened the letter with a raised brow and read the contents. A cooking tourney apparently, it had been years since he did competitive cooking, but he had been looking for an excuse to begin his adventure and this looked like the perfect opportunity. ""Hm . . . I'll be heading to the pier after I get home and get what I'll need." The young man nodded and scurried off and Retchy P. continued on his way home.

"I'll miss you all dearly, but me an your mother have long ago decided on this and now is the time I go out and live out my prime years in old age. I'll write home periodically so we can stay in touch." With that he kissed each of his daughters on the cheek and his wife how any man would kiss their wife, with the tongue. Wiping the residue from the messy kiss off his mouth with the sleeve of the sweater he slipped on, he headed out with the things he'd need for the tourney and the journey ahead of him with his family behind him cheering and waving him on even as he boarded the ship heading to Wonton Island. He showed no shame as he blew kisses to his family who he loved dearly in front of all of the other chefs on the boat as they sailed off until Baterilla was nothing but a near speck of golden light. Finally turning around, his expression of a loving grandfather, father, and husband turned cold as he assessed the competition with stale eyes. Most if not all of which were snickering at his display, but he wasn't embarrassed about loving his family in the least bit.
"I'll let ya young cats know right now, that I ain't losing this tournament, so you can jump ship 'n start swimming home now heheh."

Arriving on Wonton Island, the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon of endless blue. Retchy P. had slept the whole way there while standing with his arms crossed looking out at the water from the gunwale and as the anchor splashed in the water he let loose a sneeze. Sniffling up the dribble of snot he grabbed his things and disembarked the ship with the other contestants. The island seemed to be quite large, nice healthy grass, Retchy P. could spot mountains behind the large estate, then there was forestry off to the side of it as well. Mixed in with the undoable scent of seawater was also that of herbs, mint was the strongest at the time, this was obviously a battle ground for a cooking competition and Retchy P. could see the other chefs had keyed onto the notes he had taken as well. Their eyes and noses were busy at work and awkwardly everyone stood only a few steps off the boat sniffing the air with eyes closed, some wiping their tongues around as if tasting the air as the escorts watched in confusion. "Er erm, if we could continue to the estate, I'm sure Mr. Wonton and the family would be glad to see you all." Slowly the chefs stopped their odd sensing rituals and began to follow the escort into the estate.