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Sanative Search


Deminatza was sitting at her vanity, brushing her hair humming softly. The hour was late and Scar had not yet returned. He went on to fetch Itannar so they may converse of what had transpired during his injured state at which Scar had determined it was best that Demi delivered the news.

Itannar had arrived and their conversation went as well as one could expect. The clock had chimed ten times and both decided to retire for the evening.

As she started to braid her hair to the side, she recalled the ration of fungi that help keep Scar’s affliction at bay, was nearly depleted and her search attempt, for the female supplier, was unsuccessful. A new memory stood at the cusp of her consciousness had caused Demi to have renewed hope, to which she closed her eyes and beseeched the memory to come forth.

They were having a picnic by the waterfall having just finished their swim at a nearby lake. Demi blushed slightly at the memory of their “swim”, then pushed her minds’ eye forward, to continue to onto the moment she sought.

"We shall never be parted again," Scar had promised her. "The only thing that remains is for me to be free of this curse, or at least learn again how to control it better. I have a group of friends who are helping me - the Emerald Fist. Their leader, Lord Chanticleer, a great and powerful man, has concern for his people... all people really. I know they will do all they can to find a means to help me."

Opening her eyes, she hurriedly searched for parchment, inkwell and quill. Once located, she penned a missive to Lord Chanticleer.

Dear Lord Chanticleer,

I pray this missive reaches thee in good spirits and all is well. First and foremost, forgive my rudeness for neglecting to convey my gratitude to thee and thy warriors, for permitting me entry into thy domain and providing me a platform to share the information thou hath requested.

The intent of this missive is to inquire about thy search of a cure for Scar’s affliction. We had received a fungi that assisted him in reducing his tremors, however, our rations are running low and my attempts in seeking this supplier did not bear fruit. In view of this fact, I am at thy mercy.

Lord Chanticleer, I beseech thee and thy fine warriors to aid my beloved in finding his cure or leastways, a means to manage it. If thou wishes to convene to discuss terms for thy payment, I shall comply with thy wishes.

Thy servant,


The author rolled the parchment and bound it with a deep blue ribbon. Time was on her side, for the sound of metaled boots echoed in the sanctuary denoting the change in shift. Hastily, she made her way downstairs, called out to the group of men about to attend to their posts and handed one of them the letter informing them whom the intended recipient was.

One guard whirled around to the others and barked, “Avert your eyes, you hedge-born, fopdoodle, crooked nosed knaves! Lest you wish to be on the receiving end of Scar’s kryss!” The regiment immediately turned their backs to Deminatza, save the one with whom she was addressing. He turned his attention back to her, making it a point to keep his head and eyes to the ground, unfastened his cloak and offered it to her as he took hold of the missive. “It shall be as you wish mistress.”

Crimson faced, she realized she was standing dressed in only her nightdress. Ignoring the offering, she conveyed her gratitude of his chivalry as well as delivery of the note, and quickly made her way upstairs.
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It had become routine for Deminatza to venture to Ques’ tavern, to the point that she did not realize this was her destination until she was staring at two large oak doors. Cautious0ly, she pushed the doors, peered in and noted someone was at the bar cleaning.
“Apologies,” she called from the doorway, “I mean not to disturb thee. I hath left a note on here almost a fortnight ago and was wondering, mayhaps, there be a missive for me? I am Deminatza.”

The employee smiled, nodded and reached into their apron and laid it on the counter. Overjoyed, she ran and picked up the note and read the missive. A renewed sense of hope filled her being after reading it thrice. She tipped the person a generous amount and hurried back to the Sanctuary.

“Scar!” She called out excitedly, barely making it over the threshold eager to share the good news with him.

Perhaps there is a missive waiting from Lord Chanticleer She reflected and immediately went in search of the guards for any news while continuing calling out for Scar.



Demi had just finished reading Lord Chanticleer’s letter when Scar came home to find her sitting by the fire.

“I have news,” he started barely able to contain his excitement. He knelt beside her; his eyes bright as he spoke. "The woman who gave me the palliative has been busy finding out about the cure for me!"

He went on and told her the evening’s events; finding Phoebe Nox, the woman who gave them the temporary remedy, identified her supplier, where they found her; how another of his comrades, Latifa, is aiding by researching. Essentially are livelier version of Lord Chanticleer’s note. As he spoke, she discreetly tucked the note into the cushions of the seat and hung on his every word.

He suddenly rose, took her hands and coaxed her to stand, in which she obeyed all the while basking in his elation. He placed his hands on her waist and lifted her in the air “We are almost free my love!” he proclaimed in exultation; his joy infectious. She could not help but laugh wrapping her arms around his neck as he gently set her down. He looked into her eyes a moment then kissed her deeply.

Later that evening, Deminatza woke in Scar’s arms with her head on his chest. She had to provide a response to Lord Chanticleer’s letter. From her vantage, she could see it was not overly late, and there was time, still, to compose a proper response then ask the guards for their assistance with the delivery. Gingerly, she entangled herself from his embrace, pushed the covers aside, scooted to the edge of the bed, and sat up painstakingly slow.

“Tell me, is it the letter, tucked in seat, that you seek? At least give me the author’s name that is giving you reason to leave my bed.” She froze as if she were a child caught stealing a sweet. She did not think he noticed her holding a note, let alone hiding it, in his excitement. With her back to him, she was unsure if he questioned out of in jest or sincerity. She peered over her shoulder at him, her voice sweet as honey.

“Tis true, milord, I do in fact seek the letter, its author is Lord Chanticleer.”

Scar sat up suddenly alert then realization crossed his face, “You knew.”

The accusation made her wince. She scurried onto the bed and knelt beside him, her hair falling forward covering the right side of her face, as she looked to him remorseful.

"I am truly sorry dearest. Lord Chanticleer’s note arrived earlier, and I had just finished reading it when thou arrived. And seeing thee so joyous, I did not hath the heart…” her voiced trailed, her eyes searching his face. She went on to share the contents of the letter and fell silent when she finished, watching him with trepidation. He merely sat, brushing the hair from her eyes and tucking her tresses behind her ear. She shrugged and said, “Perhaps thou can find solace in knowing, twas thee who reaped the rewards in sharing such wonderous news.”

The corner of Scar’s mouth twitched. “How do I know others have not come before me to…” he inquired airly, allowing his words to hang there. He reveled in his victory in eliciting the reaction he had sought; a slap on his arm and the look of admonishment on Demi’s face. They both laughed as he pinned her down onto the bed to stave off her attacks. After a few moments, the laughter died, and they gazed at one another. “You are beautiful,” he murmured smiling at her.

“Go,” he said as he released her from his hold, “Hurry and respond to Lord Chanticleer. Do not keep me waiting, milady. I wish for my prize,” he declared eyes alight with mirth. Deminatza rolled off the bed, dressed in her nightdress, wrapped a shawl about her shoulders and went downstairs to pen a response.

Dear Lord Chanticleer,

I pray this missive reaches you in good health. I am most grateful for this news. I shall attempt to attend the gathering. I would like to discuss, if any, new developments. What day and time will the festivities commence?



Satisfied, she rolled up the note, and once again, bound it with a deep blue ribbon. The voices above her revealed the guards were dining in the kitchen. Demi walked up the stairs and stood at the head of the table where a regiment sat, enjoying their meal speaking animatedly with one another.
Each time she attempted to get their attention; her voice was drowned out by their laughter. Just as she was about to give up, one blonde guard happened a glance in her direction and immediately rose to his feet. His friends around him perplexed by his behavior followed his gaze, and they too, rose to their feet.

Startled by their sudden change in behavior, she hesitantly requested delivery of her missive. One stepped forward and accepted the parchment. Before she could convey her thanks, a voice behind her caused her to jump.

“If you are done speaking with my wife, she and I have matters that require our attention.” Without waiting for a response, he picked her up and carried her away.
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Silent Partner

Deminatza reflected on the events that transpired after receiving the mysterious letter during her pilgrimage.

After examining the letter, its parchment, the penmanship, even the ink in hopes of extrapolating any clue as to who the scribe may be, she gathered her things and set forth for the Sanctuary to make her preparations.

That was the only time she was thankful Scar was not yet home. She did not want to deceive him should he inquire about her search. The letter’s directive was explicit, “I do not trust easily so you must come alone this first time. If you speak of this to anyone else or bring anyone along with you, I will know and you will never find me. Your loved one will die…”

She gathered a few scrolls of recall, bandages and few rations for this journey. Giving a once over of her items, she ventured forth to the designated meeting place. It was not until she was at the moongate that she realized her folly. In her haste, she inadvertently lost the missive from her cryptic colluder. She was unable to recall the last time she read the letter, but it was no matter, she had memorized the location and a major landmark near it, the Shrine of Spirituality.

Now was not the time, I need to focus on the knowledge this person is willing to share, she chided herself as designated building drew closer. Deminatza took a deep breath to steady herself then ascended the rope ladder.
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