Atlantic Roleplay Community Boards

[Ranna ab'Arawn]

---

A small man, a bit hunched-up, sat poised over a scrap of parchment. Quill in hand, ink at the ready, he awaited His words.

"Minion, take this down."

The deformed fellow stabbed the quill into the ink almost a little too quickly, for there was an over-abundance of ink on the point. As it started to swell into a droplet, he quickly held it over the bottle, lest it spoil either the parchment, or the table. Returning the quill-tip to the paper, he prepared to write, as His words were dictated to him.

Lord Norture,

As an act of faith in our alliance, I have decided to send a small gift to further concrete our pact. Expect to receive, in the near future, a select group of slaves. Now, it would not due to waste magical energies on those of this ilk, so we will be transporting them by way of road. I will send a courrier with word of more information about the time of arrival and the transport route at a later date.

Death comes to all,

Ankur

The fellow sat, blowing upon the parchment to dry it faster. When He had gone out, He had left instructions to deliver the letter.

"See that it arrives unaltered. Stay in Umbra until you are able to hand the lich lord, Norture, this letter. Do not fail."

Swallowing a lump in his throat, the man folded the sheet in thirds. Then he held a lump of red wax over the flame of a skull candle to soften it. Dripping enough to properly seal the letter, he pressed the Emblem of Ankur into it, a circle with a K, its points extending past the edges of the circle, similar to the altered pentagram in the inner chamber.

As he set foot outside of New Khaldun, he glanced quickly to the sky. Soon, it would be nightfall. He hurried quickly to Luna Proper for the city moongate.
_________________
Cezanne: If this goes well I might just go into business kidnapping Kitsunes so I can play with their balls.