Deminatza
Visitor
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,
*~*~Deminatza~*~*
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.
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,
*~*~Deminatza~*~*
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.
Last edited: