Projects

People buy tickets, priority V.I.P. are blue, the appointed head of marketing continued his brief. Security tight, we have werewolf shifters to act as door staff and to check for fraudulent tickets, the tickets themselves have an iron strip embedded in them to stop magic from being used to create them. If pre-ticket sales are correct, then we have a big concert.

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I zoned out as head of security, the responsibility for my team, mine. Goddess help us, this phenomenon happened overnight. Sure, local bards performed entertainment in various clubs like the Centaur Spot. But this is a whole new level, they called it, “Rock and Roll.” Who is to blame? Epona’s pets, a pair of humans that became a centaur and centauride on earth she rescued. This is the work of his alpha herd mare Izzy Taylor-Brooke. Why couldn’t she have stayed in the Centaur Spot on the training campus with the strange instruments these four mares now played? What in the seven Hells is a saxophone? Drums I understand, and the infernal electric guitar, what demon powered that? Trust off-worlders to contaminate our mare's senses, encouraging a union. Mares with rights, equal pay no less, all due to the draft idiot, Bloodworth-Taylor-Brooke. The herd stallions furious, and remember the days of what they called, strike action.

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We all wanted to know the secret spell this music generated, the gyrations, hoof stomps and hand jive, and actions such as the twist. Our colts and fillies loved it, they all bought 4 Mares merchandise. The only thing the pair would not answer is, what is Ketamine? Something from their dimension, smacked of being illegal. The very fact of rebellion makes the group more of a hit, Epona help me, this will all end in tears.

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Epona's reaction is pragmatic at best, a phase, let it run and normality would restore order. I looked at the wall of our briefing room, posters caught my eye, and more merchandise. 4 Mares in various single and group poses, the posable figures, badges. Maymbe on saxophone, Crystal on vocals and light show from the crystals on her body, Oaklin on electric guitar and vocals, and Cass on drums.

 

The mares signed something called a recording contract, and royalties although they are not royal. Their music is sold and streamed through magic-enabled headphones or heaven forbid a portable music player, purchased, or rented. Another strange name for this phenomenon is a teenager. Which to me is an excuse to backchat adults, along with the phrase, “you don’t understand.”

Izzy got them to do cover songs, like, “A Teenager in Love,” by something called Dion. Others liked, “Crazy Horses,” by the Osmonds went down well. The werewolves however hated, “Who let the Dogs Out?” Partitioned Epona to ban it, in contrast, they loved, “Cry Wolf.” I can't remember the band's name. Sounded like a laugh, oh yes, “A-HA.”

Epona did however draw the line at a song, “The Times They Are A-Changin,” by Dylan. Stating it encouraged insurrection and insubordination.