Style Quest: Ravens!

Different piles of clothing covered all the tables in the main hall of the Drakethorpe Guild Hall. Each pile had a color-coded name tag that Varick checked three times to ensure he labeled correctly. The colors corresponded to a portal world with the names referencing the customer. With all the orders paid and completed, it was time to ship them out. Standard couriers were too expensive and took longer to deliver, so there was one easy solution to shipping. Varick carefully placed a thimble, two bottle caps, and a bit of scrap jewelry on each pile of clothing.

 

    “Ravens of Asgard, I humbly request an Unkindness,” the mahogany Clydesdale called to the heavens. There was a moment of silence as the words hung empty in the air, and then it started. At first, it was just one small portal opening, but then it blossomed into dozens as ravens of all colors and sizes flew into the Guild Hall from the opening. Soon, every unoccupied surface in the room had a raven roosting on it. “Messengers of the Allfather collect your payment and deliver my goods if you find the payment to be sufficient. The one amongst you that delivers the most will receive an extra reward.”

 

    A murmur of croaks and caws went through the assembled corvids as they debated the job. Then, in a flurry of feathers, the birds grabbed the shinies and clothes as they flew off through newly formed portals. Over the next several minutes, the Guild Hall became utterly unusable by anyone as the Unkindness of Ravens flew in and out, creating a moving wall of feathers. Then, as quickly as it started, all the commotion died down, and a single large dark blue raven sat on a table.

 

    “Bessst raven,” the corvid croaked at Varick. “Get priiiize.” The equine tailor couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. From his pocket, Varick pulled a little shirt made out of paper clips.

 

    “Wings up, and I’ll clip it on you,” the brown horse instructed the raven. With a happy croak, the raven did as asked. Carefully, Varick clipped the shirt around the corvid so it held snugly but wouldn’t disrupt the bird’s flight. “There you go, I knight you Sir Raven of Clips.”

 

    “Clips,” the bird gleefully chirped as it danced in its new shiny shirt. Happily, the raven lifted off the table, flapped a few circles around the room, then summoned a portal and disappeared through it.

 

One would think the Ravens of Asgard had better things to do than deliver letters and parcels in exchange for shiny baubles. However, they had become invaluable since the Archdruid struck a deal with the birds to work as delivery couriers. They seemed to delight in competing against each other to see who could deliver the most the fastest. Varick was happy to use the Ravens’ desire for shinies and competitiveness. Although after that last round of deliveries, the Clydesdale was a little short on trinkets to use as payments.