Star stepped gingerly into the chamber, her mismatched eyes adjusting to the dim glow of luminescent fungi clinging to the walls. Her heart, still racing from her last encounter, steadied as she took in the sight: clay pots, dozens of them, haphazardly stacked in a dusty heap. Disappointment tugged at her. No glittering treasures here, no rare herbs or magical artifacts—just the remnants of some long-forgotten kitchen.

She sighed and turned to leave, but a sudden cacophony of voices stopped her mid-step. The pots rattled, their lids lifting and clattering as if they had minds—and mouths—of their own.

"Hey, hey, you!" one pot called, its clay lid snapping open and shut.
"Don't just stand there!" another chimed in, its voice high-pitched and grating.
"We’re starving!" complained a third, its lid wobbling precariously. "The Wizard’s been gone for—oh, who even knows anymore! Decades? Centuries? And you think we can survive on dust and fungus spores?"

Star blinked, her jaw slack in disbelief. The pots groaned and grumbled, their voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of complaint.

“Don’t just gawk at us,” one snapped, its lid clinking sharply. “You adventurers always have something on you. Hand it over already! A crumb, a scrap, anything!”

“I—I’m not sure what you even eat,” Star stammered, taking a cautious step closer. The pots shifted slightly, leaning toward her like a pack of hungry hounds. Their lids snapped with anticipation, their hollow interiors vibrating with impatience.

Digging into her pack, Star hesitated. She didn’t have much—a few sprigs of dried grass, a small loaf of hard bread, and a handful of foraged berries. Not exactly a feast, but maybe enough to pacify the strange, yammering creatures. Carefully, she laid the offerings on the stone floor before the pile.

“There,” she said softly, stepping back. “It’s not much, but it’s all I can spare.”

The pots erupted into a frenzy, their lids clinking wildly as they scrambled to claim the meager bounty. Bread crumbs vanished into their depths, the berries rolled inside with delighted pops, and the dried grass disappeared with slurping sounds.

“Mmmm, not bad!” one pot declared.
“A bit stale, but it’ll do,” grumbled another.
“Finally, a decent adventurer,” said a third, its tone approving.

As the last crumb disappeared, the pots quieted, their lids settling into place with a satisfied sigh. The largest pot, its surface etched with faint runes, tilted toward her. “You’re kinder than most who wander through here,” it said, its voice now deep and resonant.

Star smiled, her heart lightened by the unexpected turn of events. “Thank you,” she whispered, casting one last glance at the now-still pots before continuing deeper into the Dungeon.