Insomniax appears to place the bowl in his bag without any concern for it spilling and getting all over everything. This sort of nonchalant stuff-everything-in attitude confused me at first, but I don't worry about it now. He keeps a few grilled lobsters, a sickle, a giant granite warhammer, and several hundred runes in there at any given time. Someone must have enchanted it for him, because I doubt he could pull off something like that himself. He's not all that great at Magic.
Although, he does manage to keep a dozen or more potions together without any of them breaking whenever he's practicing alchemy, so maybe Insomniax is more competent than he seems. His food doesn't usually spoil, either. And there was that one time...
This train of thought is interrupted when Insomniax picks me up and puts me in his bag! The nerve of that man. It's dark in here, and it smells like fish. And spice. Insomniax sits down quickly; I know because his granite maul knocks me in the head with a clunk. Totally insensitive. I do not belong in a backpack.
Insomniax starts mumbling something -- a teleport spell, no doubt. See what I mean about Magic? He'd rather read from a book than actually cast the spell himself. I mean, it could be because I once told him that a friend of Gertrude's had attempted to teleport from the city of Uzer to Ardougne in one go. They found half of him in the Falador moat and the other half in Shilo Village.
There's a pulsing light that I can sense even within the backpack, though the sound of the spell activating is muffled. A brief jaunt through space and time later, and I can hear the rushing of a river and the bustling of commerce as Insomniax hops off the Lumbridge lodestone. He reaches into his bag and pulls me out again.
"About time!" I say, as he sets me on the ground. Insomniax shrugs apologetically.
"Sorry, Lynnix. It's hard enough to teleport myself accurately. I wouldn't want what happened to PKleet happen to you."
"That was a one-time thing!" I insist. "And I only heard about it 'cos he respawned in Varrock and told Gertrude about it while he was getting his cat-training medal!"
As I finish my rant, I notice that my whiskers appear to be on fire. I immediately paw at my face to extinguish them. Sheesh, being a hellcat is hard.
"Anyway," I continue, as if nothing happened, "if you're so scared of teleporting, why bother at all? It's not that long of a walk from Edgeville to here, or we could've sailed down the Lum. You know how to build a waka, don't you?"
He shrugs. See how easy it is for them? They don't get cricks in their neck every time they do it, either.
"I just wanted to get here as soon as possible," Insomniax explains. "This whole deal with the Culinaromancer feels like a recipe for disaster." As soon as the druid says this, all my fur stands on end. Weird. "I want to save Dave and get it over with before something really bad happens." With that, he leads the way into the castle, past the kitchen with its hopeless cook, and enters the banquet hall.
A feast is laid out before our eyes. Most of the chairs are empty, though Evil Dave, Sir Amik Varze, and the monkey king are still stuck in here, even though they're in the real world too. Yeah, I know, it's confusing.
Insomniax places the bowl of spicy stew on the table in front of Dave and spoon-feeds his frozen form a few mouthfuls. Almost immediately, Evil Dave disappears and his chair returns to its upright, not-being-jumped-over position. Insomniax glances balefully at Varze and Awowogei before bowing to the worried-looking but still-mobile Gypsy Aris and leaving the room. I dash after him, not wanting to be left in the time vortex...thing.
"Speaking of Evil Dave," I say, "weren't you going to talk to his mom about getting me changed back?"
"No," he says, unperturbed, and keeps walking. I'm a bit miffed by this; not that being a regular cat was so much better, but I hate being ignored.
"Why not?" I ask, dogging his heels. Or catting them. You know what I mean. "Aren't you worried that Guthix might take a disliking to you hanging around with a hellcat? Ostensibly, me?"
"Cats are one of Guthix's most mysterious creatures," says Insomniax, slightly misquoting Juna. "If it is the will of Guthix that you, and thus I, be cursed with this affliction, then so be it! You're still the same old Lynnix."
"Right." This was about as sensible a notion as I'd grown to expect from Insomniax. "So the fact that I am suddenly and inexplicably conscious of and perhaps connected to a god that no one has heard of except for dangerous Zamorak-worshipping cultists and extremely dangerous extraplanar magic wielders is, somehow, not threatening to you in any way?"
"Nope," says Insomniax, shrugging again. "I try not to sweat the small stuff."