The cowgirl Queen took one look at the new letter that wasn't in an envelope on her desk and the first thing that registered was someone other than her beloved husband was calling her by an endearment, namely love. It might be said that her week may not have been the best week she had ever had. There had been some mighty strange things happen in the Inn while she was being bouncer and the new deadline for the paper was looming pretty close. Not to mention she was again going around with Royal Guards all the time and the number of Guards had been increased at the Westridge Embassy (better known as her home, the mansion on Lakeshore Dr.).

This might not seem like much to most but for Des this wasn't the best of circumstances for her to be finding a letter with an endearment starting it off by an unknown personage let alone as she read further a few threats thrown into the pot to stir that temper of hers just a tad bit more and on top of all that this one calling themselves The Ravager then decided to threaten her personally and claim to have been watching her on the sly.

To say the cowgirl was unhappy was a gross understatement of a very real fact. For a brief moment in time, when she tried to clear the red from her vision and failed, she almost felt sorry for the poor cuss that had gone to all the trouble to skin and bleed out someone to write her this endearment holding and threat filled letter.

It was true she could care less about whatever Governor runner this here idjit wanted to go after. They had threatened her personally at some point down the road and by golly they were going to find out just what being in the middle of a hornet's nest felt like or at the very least what one riled up and hotter than a firecracker on the fourth of July Des was like.

There was a saying for a very good reason and obviously someone had forgot to tell this here person that saying. Don't Mess With Des!

Des began writting letters. Each one said the same thing.

Dear <insert appropriate title and name here>,

It has come to my attention that someone calling themselves "The Ravager" has apparently been watching me covertly with ill intent while going about the city murdering people. They have now threatened an unspecified person running for Governor and at least myself if not my family. I would appreciate any assistance or insight that you might be able to lend in this matter. I can be reached with information at The Oracle, the Inn, or home.

I hope that you and your family are doing well!
Take care!
Lady Tera Starfare of Westridge

The Count appeared in the doorway of the Oracle and was past Becky?s desk before she could look up from her nails. He went up the stairs to the desk of Tera Starfare.

?Good day, Tera. It?s so nice to see you again although I?m disturbed that some individual has the audacity to threaten you. May I see that letter??

He took the letter and read it. As usual, his expression remained impassive. ?May I borrow a pen and a piece of paper, please?? He took what was offered and wrote the following.

Ravager,

First, you are to immediately cease using the term ?cattle? for anything other than four-legged bovines. That term was coined long ago by my wife, Tara Rynieyn, when she was secretary to Lord Brutin. You do NOT have permission to use it. Try to use that little pea brain of yours to come up with something original for a change. I doubt that you can.

Second, your activities in this city merely demonstrate that you have the mind of an infant. Your pitiful displays of destruction against our society remind us all of a baby who cries to get its mother?s attention. Or of a toddler who tosses a toy from a playpen hoping someone will notice. Or of some child who sits in the middle of an aisle in a store, crying to get attention and to be picked up. As you have already experienced, it?s not going to get you attention. You will be ignored and ostracized just as those who have gone before you who tried the same methods. The names of those whom you are so reminiscent of are no longer with us. Keep this up and you will soon join them. Senseless murders for the sake of attention grabbing demonstrate that you are nothing more than a boring child with nothing to offer our city.

Third, don?t bother Tera or anyone else at this newspaper again. They have better things to do than to read letters that demonstrate third grade writing skills and silly prattle.

Fourth, your letters will not appear in the Oracle because I?m about to destroy them. I?m sorry but the Oracle does not have a feature section titled, ?Contributions from Illiterate Idiots.?

Talomar

He calmly folded the letter and sealed it and handed it back to Tera for her to mail back to the Ravager. "Let me know if he bothers you anymore, and if any further letters are sent to you, forward them to me. I'll give them personal attention." Talomar smiled sweetly to the reporter. He then held up the Ravager's letter and it burst into flames and drifted to the floor in little flakes of ash.

"Good day, Tera."

The Count turned and left, disappearing before he reached the bottom of the stairs.