//------------------------------// // Drums of a foreign land // Story: Starlight Venue // by swingbeat //------------------------------// Dearest Swing Beat, You are in luck! I actually have Pundamilia here at the castle, so please wait till I give word so that I may talk to her. As for traveling, you may be assured that it is done. You have done well in your searches, but I feel that if there are anymore out there that can be proficient in my nighttime music, I will seek them out and send them your way. Princess Luna I quickly rolled the letter and sent it across the ethereal lines to my minstrel, and after the last ash flew off I, needed to visit the zebrica diplomats in the guest rooms and see if Pundamilia was available to talk. After saying hello to the leading medicine mare and then greeting the prince, I asked point blank if Pundamilia was available. "Has our drummer offended the mare of the night? I hope every thing is alright." Asked the shamare. “No, she has not. I actually have a proposal to ask her.” “Ah, then this is a good turn of events then,” said the prince. “Perhaps. It matters on what she says,” I said, leaving thing vauge. After being led to Pundamilia's room, I heard drums being expertly played in practice, then they stopped. I heard a few taps of varying pitch until it stopped. A steady set of taps were played then it continued. As I walked in, I must have shocked the zebra, for she was about to buck the bass drum for an extra loud kick, but when I walked in, she bucked a hole right into the thing, causing her leg to get stuck. After stifling a chuckle, I greeted the drummer. “Good afternoon miss Pundamilia.” “A good afternoon to you too mwezi mwanzilishi.” For those that don't know how to speak the zebra's language, that is directly translated to “moon mover”, a very regal title that was given to me when I first showed that I still had control of the moon. But as we chatted about how her drumming was, I asked her if she knew a griffon by the name of Hercule. “Yes,” she said, “I do remember that oaf. A very talented piano player, but a bit rough to strangers. Why is it that you bring up my old partner?” “Well, it just so happens that I am putting a band together and that he mentioned you by name.” “Of course he would...” “Is there something I should know about him?” “No, more like something about US. We used to be a nigh inseparable team, but then he let his pride got in the way and we split.” “I see,” I said, giving a breif pause to let everything sink in. “Would you want to join a band that has him in it?” As I looked to her, I saw the prince in the windows reflection furiously nod his head yes, as if coaching her. “Don't listen to your prince. No matter what you say, it is not your head or any matter of the politics involved. This is just a plain simple asking for you to join a band that is liken to that of my sister's orchastra.” I saw the prince slowly slink away, knowing he was caught. Pundamilia said, “I will think about it, because when we split, it was rather rough.” “Take as much time as you need, and if you have questions, please feel free to ask.” “Thank you. I shall.” As I walked out, I scolded the prince for trying to force one of his subject to be a leverage device in our dealings and then left the ambassadors, because it was near time to raise the moon. As I flew up the tower sides to our personal room for the use of our magic, I saw Celestia resting on the couch, enjoying some tea. After the moon was on its track, I said, “Well, my band is slowly coming together. It is now hinging on a zebra to see if I can't get a griffon to join.” “That is interesting Lulu.” She called me Lulu. What is going on in that devilish head of hers? “Alright, out with it. What's on your mind? You never call me Lulu unless you have something planned.” “Oh, it's nothing. Just a random thought I had.” “Random is Discord's territory.” “So it is, but anypony can have little sparks of insperation right?” She's running around it. “Out with it.” She sighed and set her cup on a table and said, “In all honesty, I don't think your band has a chance, nor your music. Not to say that it's bad, it's just not for this generation.” “Really?” “Really,” Tia replied. She was right. I was having to deal with a cold start, but it could be done if executed right. But then she said something that got my blood boiling. “Besides, your band could never amount to my orchestra.” “TIS A LIE!” I said, slipping into Cnterlotian, blowing out one of the windows (this is the reason why we have glass blowers on staff). After huffing it out, I said, “Your types of music don't have anywhere near the amount of feeling that my Jazz has, for my music is done from the heart. This modern music is done from the bit bags.” “This is true, but it still doesn't matter. The ponies will want my music at the end of it all.” “Then I declare battle of bands! My big band versus your orchestra. The ponies in attendance of the final concert shall see who wins.” “Alright then. Whoever has the better group wins this little challenge and the rights to royal pastry chef.” “YOUR ON!” As she gracefully walked to the balcony and spread her wings, she also said, “Okay, the competition will be at the Gala, so best tell them to practice.” As she flew off, she left me still processing what I had just gotten into. Wait, did I just bet the rights to the royal pastry chef on a band that I still had no idea would be formed? Yes, yes i did. I facehoofed and swore to myself. “Oh, me dammit!” Subtly thy name is Tia as I finished fuming and brought my composure back. I flew down to the dining hall where Pundamilia would be having dinner, and upon sitting down, Pundamilia spoke up. “Mwezi mwanzilishi, I have made a decision on that which you asked me.” “And?” “I will join your little band, but only for a year at most.” The other diplomats then stated that I could not have asked for a better drummer, blah blah blah, and that it is an honor that Pundamilia has of serving me, yadda yadda yadda. This meal couldn't end quick enough, and after it did, I sent a letter straight to Swing Beat right away saying that she said yes, but i withheld the news of the competition. I don't need him to stress himself out.