Another day on Ravnica, slightly overcast, just a slight nip in the air. Not quite perfect, but it was nice enough. It was just past noon in the 9th District, and business was booming. Well, outside the meadery, anyway.
The myriad of peoples that called Ravnica home bustled to and fro outside my door, running along after their own mortality. It’s only fair, all considered. Their short life spans were never much of a problem to me; having dwarves back home that eventually submitted themselves to my service lived long enough, elves generally stayed out of my barony anyway, and humans came and went as they tend to do. But here, on Ravnica, I could barely fly half of a mile before running into another planeswalker, with the majority of them being human. All of them were nice people, and went about their business, visiting me from time to time. I liked it.
Today, however, was to be a special day. Gardonia, a local Boros-affiliate, decided to challenge Theren Everwood to a duel. Not just any duel, no. My mind drifted back to the evening prior...
I was flying about, minding my own business. Everyone had left the meadery and I had closed down for the night. Nothing atypical there, anyhow. As I circled above Oak Street, I found my friend Theren, following a number of contraptions through the very nature-oriented thoroughfare. It wasn’t quite snowing out, but my presence certainly aided in cooling down the area; I remember chuckling as I saw him shiver. He wound up at Digitalis’s lab. I’d had no idea that there were any labs out there. Well, the two wound up talking and complaining about the cold. Defending myself, I entered into a shouting match with Digitalis, requesting to keep the heat down. I do not abide heat. Terrible thing, that. Anyhow, she started up a machine; the machine amplified her voice. It was quite quaint, truly. Then Theren picked up the speaking device and sang a wonderful song. I’m certain half the plane heard it; his voice was truly thunderous, worthy of even a dragon.
Now, still flying high above, I heard another man shouting. Wondering who was raising such a ruckus, we found Gardonia, singing his own medley, spewing lightning all about the city streets. I could already feel the heat. Not the heat of battle or fire, but the heat of a rivalry, the roaring flame of challenge. A bardic duel!
Immediately I jumped on the chance, proclaiming a duel at Frostwing Meadery.
And so, today. Readying the meadery was the job of the day. Cleaning the tables, the stage, and setting up a magical illusion to stop the crowd from viewing Gardonia’s lightning. The place was going to be packed tonight. Not that the meadery could really become full, but, I would do my best to fill it.
Over the course of the previous few hours, I must have moved three tons worth of liquors to the bar. I brought huge oaken casks, massive glass canisters, and great barrels of pine to the front, piling them and readying each to be drained by the thirsty visitors. Everyone had to buy at least one drink. That was ingenious, in my mind. “House rules!” I’ll cry, when someone declines. Ha!
The assortment of drinks at my disposal were astounding, really. Dizzying, even. Most dragons hoard gold or jewels. I do hoard those things, of course, but, in my mind, hoarding tastes is the greatest pleasure in the world. Thus, opening my meadery. Sharing those tastes with the multiverse was wonderful, as long as I could keep most of it to myself.
But, I’m off topic. Washing down the tables, made of a fine white birch, is when my mind tends to wander. So I hurried and moved to the stage. A great construction, 200 feet across and 50 feet from front to back, the stage was where the battle would be today. Spreading a layer of snow over the pinewood planks, I wiped the stage. Luckily, I didn’t think anyone was using the piano, so I gingerly wheeled it into the back; I have a tendency to forget my own strength. After that, I spent an hour hanging lights, dainty crystals of blue and white, all gently pulsing a relaxing light. I stoked the fire on the eastern side of the meadery, as well; I don’t like fire, but few, if any, people enjoy the cold as I do. If I had my way, the meadery would be sub freezing temperatures, but I need customers. So scratch that.
Finally, I washed each stein, each drinking horn carefully, ensuring no stains escaped my prying eye. The Frostwing Meadery would be the place to visit on Ravnica this evening. No one will be able to avoid it. The Battle of the Bards would begin soon, and the merry company of friends would wash over my soul.
@gardianforce @thetalesofthereneverwood @digitalis-the-engineer
