#its called the scale and feather meadery

[asmund-scion-of-ice]

A Slow Night at the Meadery

A cold, snowy evening. Perfect, by all accounts. A small number of visitors, and Theren Everwood, the local planeswalking bard, made their way in and out of Frostwing Meadery. A, comparatively small, Izzet guidlmage and a Zendikari angel graced my hall this evening, and spoke to their sparking and their homes. It was a wonderful time, really, as Theren played on my new acquired piano. I made it snow, just for the effect. I’m sure they were pleased.

But, there was a meeting to attend to. As it stands, the Ravnican City Board has a meeting here in a few minutes. Theren is already here and is still playing up on stage, sipping at the Setessen Old Arbor cider I gave him. 

As I wait, my mind wanders back a number of years, as I tend to do when bored. I wipe away the dirtiness of the smaller glasses and steins with a cloth wrapped around a claw, almost too large around to fit inside as I think. Many years back my mind goes, zig-zagging through the corridors of my memories.

I find myself standing in a large, glistening cave. White, with streaks of blue, just as my own scales, and meadery. I look down and see I’m standing much closer to the ground now. Even my tail is complete! It’s been over 500 years since my tail was last whole, and I’m remembering its last day quite clearly. The ice and stone of the cave keep me cold, a familiar, wonderful embrace. I hear laughter and squawking and turn to see my clutch mates roughhousing. Quickly, I clumsily leap over to them, my stubby wings barely lifting me from the smooth floor.

My mind departs my old body and I hover there, above my family. Small, and precious. Herleif, Gunhild, Val, and Kachina; the smallest white dragons on all of Jarguund, an impressive clutch. Back, in the present, I feel a small tear form in my eyes. I let it fall as, in my memories, the ground rumbles. My mother, Ebele, flying in from the cave’s entrance a quarter mile away, looking panicked and angry. Her great wings pulling us into shelter, even colder than the air.

Then the crack of stone, the whoosh of hot air pushing its way into the cave. It burned. I saw myself cover my eyes with my wings, cowering before the menace before my family. Dwarves. Too many dwarves. With a battle cry they leapt into battle, weaving spells, throwing spears and angrily swinging hammers and axes. Incapacitated, Mother watched in horror as the dwarves cut down my clutch mates, and, slowly, painfully, I saw my mother killed. My tiny, hatchling self crying out in fear and anger, leaping blindly into the fray while the others stood paralyzed, or dead. With a cracking roar, I cut into the first dwarf, parting his armor like the hide of a goat. I froze the blood in his veins as tears fell. Ebele, screaming in horror as the dwarf’s mate, long, blonde braids falling over silver and gold plate armor, cut into my tail. A flash as I disappeared.

I found myself staring up at a large dragon. Unknown to me. I registered the beast as intelligent, like myself. my hatchling self, bleeding profusely, collapsed as the white and red dragon, slender, feathered, agile and calm, lifted me away to the monastery I called home for many years thereafter.

My mind crashed back into the present as Madame Poison, Gardonia, and Lasav pushed their way into the Meadery. I wiped my eye with a wingclaw, the jewelry hanging there twinkling in Frostwing’s light.

“Salutations my friends, are we ready for our meeting?”

I pulled out a number of steins and steeled myself for an evening of debating and strange news.

@thetalesofthereneverwood @gardianforce @lasav-the-sneakster @poison-stripes @bobstropajo @shepherd-ivaria

Let me know what you all think! Have a great evening everyone!