Completed Come to my Table

Rohka decorates her table and welcomes seekers...

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A city floating in the center of a lake, Ravok is a place of dark beauty, romance and culture. Behind it all though is the presence of Rhysol, God of Evil and Betrayal. The city is controlled by The Black Sun, a religious organization devoted to Rhysol. [Lore]

Come to my Table

Postby Rohka on September 9th, 2017, 7:11 pm

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5th of Fall, 517 AV

Walking helped her think. Rohka had gotten up bright and early that morning to travel the city in search of the things she wanted for her table. Her table. She felt pride in claiming it. It had been a while since she’d been able to claim something as being her own, as something she’d earned, as something that wasn’t given to her out of obligation or protection or need. She felt responsible for the upkeep of the table; it was the kind of responsibility that fuelled her to take on more in her life. More work, more growth, more purpose.

The young sibyl had a skip to her step as she reflected on her shopping trip, her bag bouncing off her thigh as she made her way over to the Malt House. Her old leather bag had never been so full; she’d stuffed it with everything she bought and prayed to Rhysol that none of it would fall out or get stolen. At the bottom of the bag were twenty candles she’d gotten from Trigol at Tools & Trade. She’d heard from a patron that it’d be the best place to go, since the Izur always kept a stocked supply of candles for himself. The man apparently had an interest in inventions, and he’d usually spend long nights working in his shop. She’d met him for the first time that morning and marvelled at his tattoos; he refused to engage her in a conversation about them though. He did tell her, however, that each candle would only last one hour, so if she planned to sit for 2 hours a day, she’ll have 10 days worth of candles if she buys 20 for 2 silver mizas. The math made sense. Plus, by looking at the size of the thing, he figured that she wouldn’t be able to fit anymore in her bag.

Rohka had thanked him for his time and he’d smiled kindly. She told him him she’d be back for more, and then went onwards to the next item on her list. Roh went to the Owl’s Den in the Noble District at the edge of the ring to get herself an ink vial and four sheets of parchment. This was the first time she’d visited; she’d passed by the old book shop before, and she’d stepped in once out of curiosity, but her unemployed self was snubbed. Probably because of the way she’d introduced herself. This time, she mentioned that she worked for Lelia at the Mystic Eye, which completely changed the demeanour of the owner. Tegol asked her if she was interested in any books to do with her craft, but she politely declined. Roh assured him that she’d be back another day.

The last item on her list was what she considered to be the most important, and there was only one place she would trust. Rohka had met Alira in the Markets once in the Summer and went gaga over her outfit. The Wickham woman had blushed and excitedly told her that it was a brand new trend that Roh had to get it on - apparently headscarfs would be all the rage in the fall. They’d giggled and joked about the size of the fruits they were buying and then went about their merry ways. Rohka had known about Alira before; her shop was well-known amongst the women in Ravok for having the finest fabrics and the most current designs. There was no where else that could come close to the luxury of Azure Reflections.

All Roh wanted was to make her table look special. Unique. Welcoming. Warm. This was what she told Azure when she entered the shop, along with detailing how the Malt House looked like, since he apparently had never been there. The slave simply nodded and brought out an unusual and intricate silk tapestry, coloured in dark green and warm-tones. Since Roh had gotten in so early, she’d caught Alira at the store as well, who remembered her from the Markets and beamed when she saw the tapestry that Roh was about to buy. She quickly brought out a matching headscarf and glued on tiny crystals that Azure had in his collection of shiny things for a more avant-garde look. The young sibyl was ecstatic and thanked the both of them for their kind service, promising that she’d quickly become a regular customer. Before Roh left, she’d glimpsed a feather on the floor beside the table and picked it up in awe. It was a peacock feather, and Azure reached out to take it from her while explaining that it came from his other form. He explained that he was indeed a Kelvic, shape-shifting creatures so valued for their nature in Ravok. Rohka was fascinated with the quill and asked if she could keep it. Azure had nodded politely and sent her on her way.

The young sibyl burst through the door of the Malt House with all her items in hand,

“Grayson!” She shouted, searching for him. The man looked up from where he stood talking to a patron. The House had just opened and it was slow, so he decided to mingle.

“Yup, just set up and I’ll keep watch.” He swiftly went back to his conversation.



Rohka sat at her table, tapping the peacock quill against the woven silk of the newly covered wood. She wore the headscarf neatly tied in a bow at the nape of her neck, the ends of the dark fabric hidden behind her wavy, raven hair. Her cards were fanned out on the tapestry, and a little sign made from a folded piece of parchment sat at the front edge. It read, “Grab a drink and Come get answers!” Rohka had scribbled up the ad-like sign in an effort to bring more attention to the purpose of the table, putting little stars in the corners. She wasn’t entirely satisfied with the sign yet, so she sat pondering about how else she could market her craft.

No one had come to speak with her so far. The candle had been lit for 10 chimes with patrons coming in and out of the House, glancing her way with both curiosity and confusion. She’d been too shy to reach out and call anyone over, so she sat with her dainty hand dipping the quill in the ink and absent-mindedly writing on her leftover piece of parchment.

I wonder who would be my first…

Purchase :
Candles - 2sm
Unsual Silk Tapestry and Headscarf - 9gm
Ink Vial - 1gm
Parchment - 2sm * 4 pieces = 8sm
Total: 11gm

+1 a peacock feather quill
Last edited by Rohka on July 28th, 2019, 3:13 am, edited 3 times in total.
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Come to my Table

Postby Rohka on July 3rd, 2019, 6:05 pm

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A man walked in slowly, stopping to eye the room, wearing just dirtied cotton pants in a warm orange with boots and various unidentifiable knifes strapped to his waist, somewhat held together by what looked like an intricately woven sash of straight, bright purple. Beyond the myriad of tattoos on his chest, beyond the two thick, complex braids beginning from the top of his head and ending below his collarbone on either side, and even beyond the dirty, bloodied bandage around the muscle of his forearm holding a sack—it was truly the sash that caught her attention.

The sybil loved unique colours like that. She immediately wished she could have it as a colour she could paint.

Rohka waved to try and catch his attention. He didn’t seem to look her way, but he still stood, watching. The man was only about a few feet away, since her table was so close to the door.

“Hey there!” She called out. He turned his head, then tilted it curiously, his hands coming up to rest on his waist. “Would you like a free reading? Compliments of the Malt House if you stay for a drink! Or food. Our cheese is good here,” she said, smiling.

“Hm,” the man walked closer, looking everything over. He then turned to the room and managed to catch the eye of a barmaid holding mugs of ale on a tray, and held up a finger. The woman walked over and handed him a drink in his free hand, all in silence, and he placed coins on the tray, nodding in such a graceful, flowing form of thanks, and she walked away to serve other patrons.

He held the mug and continued to stare at her in silence. Rohka wasn’t quite sure what to do at this point. He stood, took a sip, one hand holding the sack still on his waist, staring with an unreadable expression. The sybil looked around feeling somewhat nervous now. She wondering if anyone else felt as strange as she did at that moment, but no one was paying attention. Did she need to saying anything else? Was she not clear? She tried to think of whether there was more she could do. A thought came to mind,

“I like your sash.” The man broke into a small smile at this, stepping forward and pulling the wooden chair back, then flipped it around. He placed the mug on the table and sat down on the chair, dropping his sack on the ground and resting his rather large forearms on the chair’s wooden back rest, arms folded.

For a moment he just looked at her. She felt at once at ease, strangely so calm, which relaxed her shoulders a bit. She placed the quill on the table, suddenly aware that he was about to speak.

“Listen close, seeker. I know you. You may not know how well I know you, but I do. The secrets of this city are vast and you are young, much too young and blinded by the city’s love for you. This is not a place you’ll want to stay. Hear me? You,” and he looked around, watching the crowd, catching the eye of Grayson who stared curiously then turned away. “He is watching over you, seeker. He will grow tired of your restlessness. It is not in your nature to be locked in, to not understand the depths of what you desire to know. I will show you so quickly that you are stronger. I will also show you how weak you truly are. Know that you may never see me again, but give thanks to the Gods who watch over the games we play. For it is through these games that we learn, as they intend us to learn. But we can learn far more, seeker. Far, far more.” At this he smiled, a shadow of fear beginning to grow in Rohka’s mind.

“You feel that? How afraid it makes you to know just how much you don’t know? You’d rather not face it. Most of us don’t. But you, sitting here, with your cards and your calling,” he gestured to the table she’d set up, as if he thought just pointing it out would explain. “Do you not see what you bring forth when you leave yourself open for all to come and play your game? No, of course you don’t. So new at this you are. Your mind doesn’t see what you want it to see, just yet.”

He reached down into his sack on the ground and pulled at a chain. Bronzed, large, with what seemed to be a medallion at the end. He plonked it on the table.

“You should be charging for your services, seeker. You will live a better life if you do. You wish to practise, but you are long past the time of practicing for free.”

He looked into her eyes, noticing the worry, the angst, the pent-up rage within her. This is a life she chose, and she knew it. This form of work is the best she had now, and she didn’t want to squander it.

“You’re not wrong. This is indeed a life you chose. But you can change it. If you take the steps required to change it. If you learn to truly read people for who they are, not just what they are. Not just what they’ve done, are doing, will do. See who they are. Listen for it,” he stressed, his fists gently pounding on the wooden chair. The intensity behind his stare made her speechless, forced her to listen and only listen.

“You will practice now. You will find out who I am, and in return for your work of practicing, you will receive this necklace in payment. Remember, seeker. I have not just come here for a lack of reason. You are in no way any more special than anyone else in this room. I, too, have a job to do. As should everyone else in this room, should they wish to contribute honestly to the growth of their being. I am here doing what I know will serve me best. This is a trait I respect in others who recognize it, and your table at this tavern while under his watch,” he shot a glance over to where Grayson stood, “tells me all I need to know. So. Are you ready to do what you intended by setting this table up?”

Rohka nodded. Some sense of relief washed over her, but then the stranger leaned forward.

“You are not to lose focus. Pay attention.”

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Come to my Table

Postby Rohka on July 16th, 2019, 2:31 am

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Rohka began by shuffling her cards. She split the deck in two and held a half in each hand, carefully bringing them together while holding onto the edges. Bending the cards upwards gave them the potential to slip out of her fingers. She felt so watched to the point where she began to feel inhibited. She let go of the edges and the cards in one hand fell to the table.

Her cheeks flushed hard, embarrassed at having faltered on the very first show of expertise.

“Ah,” the stranger began. He seemed to sound curt, and when she looked into his gaze feeling as wary as she did, the stranger’s eyes softened. “Seeker, what is your name?”

“Rohka.”

“Well then, Rohka. Try to relax, this isn’t a test of your capability. This is a display of your nature. There is zero shame in making mistakes. Every single mistake will teach you something new. You learn to adapt, to shift, to change your ways. You will keep making mistakes on the way to mastering your skill. Try again. Concentrate.” He brought a hand to the mug and took a sip of his ale.

“Okay,” she said softly, picking up her cards. This time she held the halves in each hand with her thumbs inward, gripping it more firmly. The cards were then released from her thumbs slowly, carefully, and they fell to the table interleaved. The sybil grinned and did it again, splitting the deck in half and shuffling in a manner that brought the halves together once more, a bit quicker this time.

“Okay, ready,” she declared, gently. Rohka spread the cards out on the table, fanned into a crescent, faces down. She took a deep breath, thinking, praying, and began to speak, her voice clear, keeping her tone smooth and serious.

“This reading will consist of four tiers. These tiers will build the pyramid of who you are. The first will determine your origin. We will discover the place you grew up and the pieces from memories that defined you, using just four cards. The second will determine your present state for your body, mind, and soul. The third will answer a question about your path with just two cards—a question that I will form based on the first and second tier. Finally, I will pick the last card, which will be the top of the pyramid. It shall be the card that defines you…”

Rohka looked down at the crescent and squinted. She wanted to make sure that the cards she picked were truly imbibed with the stranger’s essence and intentions. “I will now ponder over the possibilities before I am guided to your fortune. Feel free to leave the cards be or to move them around, making sure not to flip any. I need you to bring yourself into their sphere of influence, okay?” asked the sybil, pointing at the fanned out deck. She brought her fingertips up to touch the backs of the cards, tracing the edges, making sure that she’d placed the heat of her hands on every single one. She then brought her hands back, folding them neatly on the table. Her gaze was on him now, watching with eyes that smiled. A forced yet genuine confidence.

It was the stranger’s turn to do as he pleased. He scratched his forehead lightly, then used the hand of his bandaged arm to palm the middle of the crescent. Closing his eyes, he moved his hand, shifting the cards on the table until they were no longer placed in any particular shape. The cards were now laying in chaos.

“Perfect,” she whispered, and his eyes opened, glinting with what seemed like humour. The sybil brought both hands into prayer and spoke up with pride.

“Under the glory of Rhysol, I will now build your story.” Rohka was full of glee as she said it, completely determined to find out exactly who the stranger really was.

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Come to my Table

Postby Rohka on July 16th, 2019, 2:34 am

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“Ah, Rhysol. You should know something first, before you start, seeker.”

Rohka froze in her spot and looked up at him curiously. What could he possibly need to mention?

The stranger’s face seemed to light up as if he was glowing from within, and the corners of his full lips picked up in tandem, like his smile controlled the brightness of his being. Roh blinked twice, unsure of what she was seeing. Was it a trick of the light in the Malt House? She looked at her singular candle and then back at the stranger. Nothing about the closest source of light seemed to change.

“I do not follow Rhysol. I do know that he would know this, and I am grateful for my current safety despite my opposition to his teachings. You would have never found this out through your cards, because you began your reading under his glory. I have no problem with this. But it is an aspect of your craft that you should become familiar with.”

He casually took another sip from his mug before continuing.

“Rohka, was it?” She nodded. “You are not at fault for your history. You currently do not have the means to change your past. It is crucial, however, that you understand how your current beliefs affect your ability to grow, to learn, to become who you are meant to be. You see, Rohka: Rhysol is indeed a powerful, all-encompassing, and worthy god of his domain. You are protected and cared for, by him. For him. Do you want this to be true forever?”

The smile had never faded. His light never lessened. She had no idea how to answer. Was there something wrong with being protected?

“I’m sure you know that there are other Gods. You must think they are all unworthy of your time, since Rhysol is the saviour you believe in. You are faithful to him, in whole, as needed, taught to do so by your family, I’m sure. It’s funny. I think if he were here right now, he would not worry about you. He would know that you are fully in love with his control over everything in this city.”

Rohka scrunched her nose at this, not at all sure that she was ‘in love’ with Rhysol. The stranger saw her reaction and began to laugh.

“Yes of course you are not in love with him in the mortal sense of the word, seeker. Nor did I say that it is him you love. It is his control. You have no ability to leave it, and you think you thrive under it.”

It was hearing this that made her begin to worry. What was he trying to say? She at once felt uncomfortable, furtive, unwilling to speak lest Rhysol would hear of her sudden spark of fear, yet knowing her fears were surely unwarranted. She glanced down at the mess of cards and felt the strong urge to take comfort in them. To ask them what it was that this man was truly here for. It all seemed wrong. So very wrong.

The braided stranger noticed her shift in mood and let out a small sigh. He began to speak again, lower in tone, wanting his words to infuse a sense of encouragement.

“You want to find out the truth? Go ahead. Begin your discovery. Solve your mysteries, Rohka. What was it that you said? ‘Come into the card’s sphere of influence’? Well I’m here now. And so are you. Let’s have at it.” He dropped the mug on the table with a strong thud and everything shook.

The man had caused true disturbance in the sybil. As her very first guest to this table she’d set up at Grayson’s establishment, this stranger was nothing like what she expected. Granted, she barely formed any expectations, but this foreign-like way of speaking and this extreme method of secretive interaction was just as much astonishing as it was extremely peculiar. She knew that she had her cards to help her. But there was no telling what it is that she would find out, and it scared her. The recognition that it scared her almost seemed to fuel a loop, a circle of fear, because she knew that it was what he’d warned of earlier. How could someone know her more than she knew herself? A stranger, for that matter. Some part of her fear struggled to change into anger. More accurately, it felt like it was leaning on despair. She almost didn’t want to pick up a card. Especially in the tick after he’d practically demanded it.

“Aha,” the stranger remarked, a wide grin on his face. “There it is. You feel that? That right there is your very visceral reaction to recognizing control, as minor as it is. You will still continue forward. You’ll want to see through what you promised, won’t you? Especially with as much curiosity as you have in that heart of yours.”

Something about that grin was intoxicating in the most mesmerizing way. She felt he was right. He was absolutely right about her wanting to finish what she started.

“Very well then, sir,” said Rohka, surprising herself with the honorific she used. “We will begin. Four cards. First tier.”

She moved the pile of cards over to one side, making room in the middle for the both of them to view the spread clearly. From the pile of disarray she chose a card, and made a mental note. The sybil resolved to become slightly more precise with each card. She kept her gaze on the cards and spoke aloud.

“This one will tell me where you grew up. The next will tell me the moment in your past that defined what love meant to you. The third will be your moment of tragedy, the moment in the past that defined your hurt. The last card will be the moment that defined your dream. The moment that defined your life’s journey.”

The sybil flipped the first card over. One by one, she picked the cards, until four of them lay in a row, face up.

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Come to my Table

Postby Rohka on July 16th, 2019, 2:37 am

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Carefully, she studied them in entirety. She picked up the quill, her eyes scanning the symbols, her hand reaching for the little pieces of parchment that she’d made for herself. She knew that once she started to speak, she would want to write her first few sparks of insight down, straight away, so that she wouldn’t forget. So that she could go back to them and find the patterns, to build connections, to form the structure of the story. Rohka wrote as she spoke up, her dark eyes almost darkening while becoming entranced with the tier.

“I see a hanged man, the word ‘sacrifice’ comes to mind first. You grew up in a place that valued sacrifices, of surrender. A place of patience, too. A spiritual place, a place with deep hardships, yet many blessings have come forth from this place. It’s a place that values dependability, a community that raises children to be faithful.

“I see a flow of coin, the word ‘generosity’ comes to mind. You past involved moments that made you believe in a love full of giving and receiving, and the balance between them. There’s gratitude for charity received in the past, there’s exhaustion from over-giving, there’s also a need for assessing fairness in your loving relationships. The moon and the number ‘six’ here speaks of a love that is unconsciously and instinctually meant to take care of needs.

“I see a queen, the word ‘mother’ comes to mind immediately. A nurturing figure of sorts, a motherly one, she or he caused you pain. There is something tragic involving creation. I see significance behind nature, something challenging about the environment. Mothering is an aspect of your past that will need to be overcome.

“Last but not least, I see a juggler of coin, the word ‘play’ comes to mind. A part of your past showed you that the key to your dreams would be to adapt, to multitask, to enjoy the flexibility and flow of life’s infinite existence. There’s a boat here, there was travel and support given in the past for this dream. The number 2 tells me that you defined your dream as a duality, but it’s hard to tell what that duality may be. Dark and light? Slow and fast? Backwards and forwards? In any case, you’re jugging the two sides, and its because in your past, there were moments that led you to believe that this way was the best way to journey onwards.”

A silence fell upon them. The entire time she spoke, Rohka forgot the world around them. Slowly but surely, she began to pick up on the sounds of chairs scraping, the sloshing of drinks, the chatter, the smell of freshly made cheese that Grayson was bringing in now. Her attention wondered over to him, catching his eye, and she gave him a quick smile. He simply nodded and turned back. The bar owner continued to attend to the patrons ordering a meal, not wanting to let it known that he’d been distracted with seeing her interact with the braided man. He was surprised to see just how intense she’d gotten. Her face rarely ever looked like that. He knew her as the frivolous, talkative, light-hearted young woman that she always was when they’d spoken. This was new. Nothing wrong with new, but it was strange.

Rohka payed no mind and brought her eyes quickly back to the stranger.

“So I guess that’s all I have for the first tier. I’ve written down a few points here to help us remember, and you can have this as a keepsake at the end if you like. I want to know how I did though, before we continue. Anything that didn’t feel true to you? Anything that surprised you?”

The stranger had been listening with his elbow on the table, his thumb and forefinger propping up his chin. When she’d asked him the questions, he looked up from the cards and offered a slight smile.

“Start with telling me what you think felt untrue to you.”

“Okay,” she responded. She thought for a second, checking the cards again. “It’s the tragedy. It’s harder to figure out. I don’t understand what it is, but it’s not exactly a mother.”

“Yes,” he said immediately. “Good. My son died. His mo—,” he stopped himself. “My wife wasn’t there at the time. I couldn’t replace her, and I never should’ve tried.”

At this, Rohka wasn’t sure who he meant. She wasn’t even sure she followed him correctly. Just as the sybil parted her lips to ask, the stranger narrowed his gaze.

“You’re not to ask any further questions. You did it, you know now that you can look back on your words and find further truth in them, if you just look for it,” his eyes relaxed again and he scanned the cards once more.

“Rohka, you did well for this tier. You found moments. You’re piecing together a picture now. Do you feel any closer to knowing who I am?”

She did not.

The silence from the sybil brought a grin to his face. He slowly looked up at her, chuckling.

“You’ve only just begun, seeker. And speak up, don’t let me do all the talking, even if it feels like I know things that you don’t. Even if I tell you not to speak. You’re free to do as you please and figure out your consequences accordingly. It’s a betrayal to yourself to let others imprint their will on you.”

He took another sip from his mug, the brightness of his being dimming down a bit, a seriousness returning. Rohka was beginning to feel exhausted. She wasn’t sure if the effort was worth it anymore, but she was too far into this game to back out now. Those cards took a lot out of her and she knew it. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to read just as well for the next three tiers.

“Come on,” gestured the stranger, his hand calling forth for her attention. “Next tier, right now.”

The candle flickered and Rohka nodded. She figured she needed to say something after that comment of his, and she had a question digging in her mind and never made the time to ask it.

“Well,” she started, anxiously. “Can I have a name before we continue, at least? There’s no way that I can find out a name through my cards. Just so that I have something to call you by.”

The sybil asked the question knowingly, wondering whether he would choose to provide moniker of any kind, lest it should be cheating. The stranger simply gulped down the last sip of his ale and looked to his side. He seemed to catch the attention of another barmaid with such complete fluidity that it was almost like he’d called out to her in silence. She walked towards the table, replaced the drink, received his coin, and left without a word nor a look at either of them.

“Right, a name,” he began, taking the first sip of his fresh ale. “Mmm. You know Rohka, there’s not much to a name. It helps in giving you an identity to build strength around, but you can easily rebuild it with another. You can change the flavour of any name, simply by the way that you say it. My people,” he paused, taking another, larger gulp.

“Mm. My people were fond of names. Multiple names. I took on several in my lifetime. They’ve all defined me and my history in some way, shape, or form. As you’ve said, I’ve travelled. I was meant to travel, seeker. You liked my sash? It’s worn in pride, in knowing that I am from a clan of navigators. The Amethyst clan, we are. A good one, good horses, sailors of the grasses. Of all the seven clans, seeker, the Amethyst clan travel not just in body, but in spirit. And our spirit encounters many, many things, bringing us many, many moments, as you’ve so beautifully laid out in this first tier here. The first tier of me!”

He grinned at this. Rohka was beginning to see the effects of the ale on the man, but she was ever grateful for the outpouring of details. Would he reveal the end of their game before she gets the chance?

The stranger chuckled. “You don’t know me yet, seeker. You asked for a name. As a traveller, I’ve had plenty. You will get one. You can find out how and when it came to be. But my name nor my clan will tell you who I am.

“Roh. Ka. Rohka. Rohk. Ah,” he repeated her name in a couple more different ways, shaking his head with a smile. “It’s a nice name, seeker. Did you choose it?”

The sybil started to smile too. His manner of avoiding the question relaxed her somewhat, probably because of the pacifying giddiness he’d begun to feel. She shook her head and replied,

“No, though I don’t mind. It was my mother’s choice. She’d become entranced with my hands when I was born, apparently, and was inspired to give me an Eypharian name.” She’d never shared that bit before. It was more a familial secret of sorts. The race would never pass for ‘normal’ in Ravok, for although they seemed human, the multiple arms had always been seen as unnatural and less than human. But the Calicos had learned far more about the race during their time doing business on the Lakeshore. It led to both a respect and a covetous desire for the race’s strengths.

“Eypharian, eh? I’ve met a couple in my time. Fascinating beings, your mother chose well, Rohka. Now did you know—“

“Hey,” the sybil interrupted. The stranger cocked his head to the side. “I asked for a name.”

Markham,” he answered, smiling. “Ready for round two?”

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Come to my Table

Postby Rohka on July 20th, 2019, 11:13 pm

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Sunlight poured in through the open door, catching Rohka’s attention. Ravok’s weather, even in this time of the fall season, was always so beautifully perfect in every moment. She silently thanked Rhysol for the sliver of hope granted through the rays that landed on their table.

“Yes, the second tier,” Rohka confirmed, energized. She raised her eyes to the man before her, grateful for the name he’d provided. She couldn’t recognize where it came from. It rolled over in her mind, attempting to spark a memory, and it didn’t, save for a sense of solidity that resonated when she thought of it.

“Markham,” the sybil began, excited to try again and learn a bit more. “The next three cards will tell me about where your being sees itself in the world today. The first card will be of your body, the state of its health and reasons for it. The second card will be for your mind. For this card, we will discover what your mind has been focused on recently, and why it needs this focus. The last card, my favourite, will be for your spirit. I’m never quite good at this one,” she admitted openly with a shrug, shaking her head. “I like it because I’m always learning something extremely different from what I realize that I was expecting, but its usually hard to explain because it tends to be the most surprising for people. It’s the one most people don’t believe at first, the one that loses people’s faith in my craft. I try to spin it as if its a secret they have yet to discover, which is true in most cases I think, but its not always a secret. At least, it doesn’t feel like a secret to me, but it might be a secret to my partner,” she explained, suddenly realizing that she had never brought up her reasoning for calling someone a partner.

“Oops,” her cheeks began to flush. “What I mean is—“

“I understand, don’t worry,” he reassured, still with an oddly silly smile on his face. “You don’t see the people who come to you as clients or customers. They play your game, they participant in your art, they join you in your mutual struggle to understand a part of yourselves you cannot explain without the tools you’ve so carefully chosen and developed. You’ll definitely be confusing people with that one, if you don’t explain why you’re seeing them as your partner. I had a lovely Konti call me her Devoted from one of her readings, so I realize the association you folks like to make with the people you engage with. Far from ridiculous, but highly telling of a seeker’s intentions. I just called those who come to me as my friends, no matter how short the time,” he grinned at her. “Was that close enough to what you meant?” He’d brought his chin down to rest on the back of his folded hands now, which were laying on the top rail of the backwards wooden chair. It seemed he’d taken a bit of a break from sipping more of the ale.

“Yes,” she replied, gently laughing as she said it. “That’s, well,” the sybil paused, collecting her thoughts. “That’s mostly true, especially understanding something together. I say ‘partner’ because I like the balance of formal and informal. Like in a business, where a partner is someone who shares the profit and losses. Expenses too. My uncle and my grandfather are partners for our family’s lumber company, for example. Or like in a marriage, where both people are committed to each other and only each other. I want to be able to grow my craft so that people trust me enough to become my partner, and only mine. It wouldn’t be any good if people came to my business for my skill but then also went to someone else who has the same skill. A friend can have multiple friends, but I want my partners to believe in me and my people enough to come to me first.” This was never something the sybil had articulated before, but she was glad that she did.

“Huh,” uttered Markham, looking off a bit to the distance. “You know Rohka, I don’t think you’ve traveled much, have you?” He began, looking back at her now. “Either that or you’ve never really spoken to people outside of Ravok. If you did, you would know that there are those who don’t share your philosophy. I, for example, have had two wives. Quite normal for our people. The Drykas value children, and the more we have, the better for the survival of our families. Speaking of which, I’d actually had a third wife, now that I recall. My first was betrothed to me in my youth. She died quite suddenly from a hunting accident she should never have been close to, with her level of skill. She insisted, I supported her, she chose to venture off from the trail.

“My point, seeker, is that it is noble to desire the connection to those who believe in you. Be aware that such people may still wish to do as they please, no matter your suggestion. Your personal life and your business life can and will indeed mix, no matter what people say otherwise, and anyone you call a partner can very well maintain more than one partnership, if they so choose. You earn the respect, the status, and the competence required to be someone’s first choice. Until then, you will always be at risk of losing your partner’s full attention to you and you alone. Something better or more convenient can come along at any time. Is that clear?”

Hearing this, Rohka felt small. She noticed the sparkle in his eyes despite his seriousness. She understood, for the most part. His words carried far more truth than she realized…

The sybil never quite heard about the culture of the Drykas before. He was right in that she’d tended to only really speak with her family about most things throughout her youth. The Calico family hadn’t spoken about the structure of relationships in other races and cultures outside of their own. The Lakeshore Lumber Company had a tumultuous history with marriage, having wanted to build their initially matriarchal empire through keeping marriages centred on taking the woman’s last name. The men were free to leave the family if they chose to marry. But the women were made to convince their husbands to take on the Calico name, to continue their legacy. This was what Leonara Calico, her great-grandmother had done. She married a man who understood her dreams and supported her through and through. If it wasn’t for the fact that she had zero daughters of her own, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Cyrus, the current Calico patriarch, had been born from another man before she was married, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Leonara’s eldest legitimate son left the family when he married… the Calicos would have been stronger.

When Leonara used to tell the grand children about their history, the old Calico woman was always so proud. She was never worried about her lack of daughters. She was confident in the family’s ability to grow and flourish while she was alive, having faith in all of her grand daughters, encouraging them to develop their aptitude for business, for lumber, for the complexities of their exporting trade. Rohka respected her great grandmother. She doubly respected her great grandfather too, except she never had the chance to get to know him. He’d passed on when the sybil was very young, but from Leonara’s tales, he’d sounded like a caring man. He was supportive in many ways, especially with surveying land for their company. The man died peacefully in his sleep, they said. This left Leonara to carry out leadership on her own, to hire more people to do the work that her husband had been skilled at. Soon enough, Cyrus, her eldest son and bastard child, began having children of his own, never really committing to a long-term marriage since he wanted to stay a Calico. The mothers of his children have all stayed and helped due to their enjoyment of Cyrus’ company, both personally and professionally. It was a difficult yet abundant lifestyle, and Cyrus had allowed a few of his mistresses to marry other men, if they so chose.

Which is exactly what Rohka’s grandmother had done. Sivary was the first woman that Cyrus had become enamoured with, and the first woman that he bore children with, happily in love. Rohka knew that Cyrus was her real maternal grandfather. But her maternal grandmother, Sivary, had remarried soon after birthing both Mattias and Vida for Cyrus. The patriarch had moved on to a younger woman by then, and Sivary expressed her wish to live and work and have a family under the true love she’d developed for another man—a passion recognized by Cheva, the Goddess of Love herself. The mark that Sivary had with Cyrus turned into a shadowy Lacun once Cyrus accepted the terms of divorce. This was why Rohka had two other uncles, since Sivary birthed two more sons for her new husband, Hilio.

In fact, Cyrus never developed any love for the women he kept and slept with after Sivary. None of the mothers of his children bore the mark of Cheva. These were mothers who didn’t mind that they weren’t in love—they enjoyed the status that Cyrus brought to them. On the surface, the old man showed no despair over this fact. He was content with the way his eldest son was now carrying out the business for him and he more than happy with the abundance his other children and grandchildren brought him over the years. Sivary had been able to keep enough distance from Cyrus so that she could focus on her own family, but when Cyrus called for business matters, she was supportive. The woman even encouraged Mattias to take up the reigns of his father. It didn’t matter to her that Leonara was disappointed—Sivary knew that Cyrus preferred Maatias over Vida, her eldest daughter.

Vida was born during a time where Sivary was slowly falling in love with Hilio. Vida had always known that this was the reason why Sivary preferred that the family business be granted to her son Mattias, born from true love for Cyrus. This was a fact that Rohka knew throughout her entire lifetime, living with her parents. Vida would talk about it frequently at the dinner table with Meer, her father, listening intently, agreeing and trying to be as helpful as they all could to elevate Vida’s mood about the whole ordeal over the years. It was never enough. Vida wanted far more say in the business. She had ideas, plans of action, true inspiration from Leonara to reinstate the matriarchal legacy of the Calico family.

The best way would be through Rohka. The right partnership.

But there were other ways. Vida had her plans. So did Roh.

“Yes,” the sybil began, breaking out of her thought cycle. “It’s clear. I am always at risk. I earn the chance to become a person’s first choice.”

“Very good. Let’s begin the next tier now.”

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Come to my Table

Postby Rohka on July 28th, 2019, 3:06 am

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The time had finally come to set up the foundational layer of Markham’s pyramid. Taking in a deep breath, the sybil reached out for the pile of cards that lay face down astray, and quickly picked out three that seemed to call to her when she pondered both the Drykas man and Rhysol’s strength. She knew from what she was told that she needed to be aware of telling this fortune under the God’s influence, but it had become a habit now. A hard one to break. A habit she felt no need to break, really. Rhysol had been good to her and her family. Despite the ‘control’ that this man spoke of, Rohka felt at peace here. She wasn’t too bothered by the fact, she thought, because she felt protected, just as Markham said.

Would that change?

She brushed the question away and focused on the fortune at hand. Swiftly, she flipped the cards over.

“So Markham,” she began, excitedly. “We will now discover what makes up your body, mind, and spirit.

“I see a lion. Your body has strength. You’ve survived, you are here currently feeling courage and a drive. It’s an instinctual drive, to work with your body’s wild nature, and face the beasts with the urges within you. I think that’s the best I can do for your body’s state. I might come back to this later. Now, for your mind…

“This is the Hierophant, which is a symbol I’ve been less familiar with. It screams responsibility, your mind has been so focused on your attention to your beliefs. Especially with how you teach them, I guess, since that’s what this symbol is supposed to be about? Your mind is focused on getting answers, that’s why these keys jump out at me. You want secret knowledge. Your mind is challenged by communication, but the crown is giving me the sense that you’re putting your efforts into the divine.

“Last but not least, we have your spirit. Bear with me here.,” Rohka paused and stared at the card, even going as far as picking it up, bringing it closer to her face to take a closer look at the details, and then placing it back down again. Her partner stayed quiet, waiting patiently. He took another sip of ale from his mug as he kept his eyes on the fortune being told.

“Markham,” she began, speaking slow. “This is not an easy one. I’ll try my best, okay? The nude figure, encircled by leaves, these animals on all four corners, and the general openness of this card is just very… complete, you could say? Your spirit is one of connection. There’s a desire within me to tell you that you are whole, you are able to move beyond your quests to offer the world much bigger endings and beginnings. I hope that makes sense. I put a bit of my concentration onto the card to help me find at least one of the symbols here to connect to, but it just brought me to the lion again. Which ties with your body, but it also brings up a very old idea of kings… or perhaps of pride.”

The sybil stopped there and took a deep breath. She’d known that this tier would exhaust her, and she hadn’t felt like she could pull out enough info. She looked back into Markham’s gaze and saw that he reflected her sense of fear like a mirror. As if she’d said something that made him question his own internal state as well.

The Drykas man simply nodded. He brought a hand up to swiftly wipe the sweat off his brow. He wanted to speak, but was struggling to find the right words, knowing just what the young woman before him had pointed out in such simple clarity—one that he was able to fill in with his own insights.

“Rohka,” he started, the swirling the leftover ale in his mug. “Thank you. Yes, I survived a fight over food and religion. It was on my way over here, actually. My crew wasn’t too pleased with the way I was treated. I joined them as they defended me. The joke was that I’d been the only one to get this gash on my arm,” he said it with a grin, almost enjoying the memory of it. “I don’t need to explain my mind. You covered that. Just know that the Hierophant is key for interpreting mysteries of the arcane. I am not shy about my interests in such things.”

He took a much larger sip this time and swallowed loudly, savouring the taste. “Oh Yahal, this is a mighty fine drink! I just might get another to top this off while we’re at it here. What do you say, seeker?”

Rohka blinked and gave him a quick shrug. She’d been caught off guard but the term he used in exuberance.

“I’ll take that as a yes. I’m almost done this one and then I’ll call for another. You should have some too, y’know.”

“I don’t drink when I’m working.”

“Then we must drink when you’re not working.” He grinned at her and swished the contents of his mug once more. “Alright then,” he began again, shifting his attention back. “You said the part about my spirit being about connections, was that it? And more lions. And then a king, yes, that one I’ve heard of. It’s the Suvan history that a woman kept telling me about. Honestly doesn’t make me worry too much, y’see. I’ll find my way, the boys’ll watch me fall right into it too! You think we need bigger and better things? Well boy, we’ve got ‘em. We are setting sail for them, we’ll complete them, I know we will.”

Markham finished his drink and slammed it on the table.

“So there we are, second tier complete. We are halfway there and it’s time for your questions, little seeker. What’s it going to be?”

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Come to my Table

Postby Rohka on July 28th, 2019, 3:07 am

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Rohka was tired. She knew there were just two more cards left before revealing the third and final card. The top of Markham’s pyramid. The sybil had grown to learn far more about her very first partner than she had ever really imagined, and there was only so little time left. He wouldn’t stay and share, would he? He’d said he had a job, that he was travelling, so she doubted that there would be any further reason for him to continue sitting at her table once the reading was finished. If anyone had asked her whether she wanted him to stay, she knew she would’ve said yes. Rohka, however, kept her wishes to herself. She levelled her gaze and took in a long, deep, full breath of Ravokian air, allowing the musky aroma of the Malt House to mix into her lungs, filling them with the fire she needed to fuel the finality of the fortune.

“Yes, we now begin the third tier,” she stated with the strength she’d gathered within. “Based on what you’ve shared with me, and on the story we have told with the foundation of your pyramid, I will now ask a question about your path ahead. The goal of this reading is to arrive at who you are, yes? Therefore, my question will attempt to get closer to this preordained destiny.”

“Preordained, eh?” Markham asked, during the sybil’s natural pause. “Interesting interpretation. I’ll follow along. Is that really what you believe, Rohka?”

She wasn’t sure how to respond exactly. There was nothing that would prove to her otherwise, really. Rohka offered a slight shrug and responded while her fingers danced in circles around the strewn pile of cards.

“Do I believe that who you are is decided sometime before you exist? Yes, I suppose I do. I don’t know how my craft works if it wasn’t true. There must be something about you that stays the same in order for fortunes to become so accurate. Something about your patterns and your life’s circumstances must not all be determined by you and you alone. I’ve been raised to trust in Rhysol’s ways, and it is to him that give thanks for who I am today, and for who I will become. I’m not sure if I’ve ever questioned this belief, really. I don’t know what good it would do to see things differently. It’s comforting to know that a higher power like Rhysol knows who I am and that I can live my life discovering exactly who that is.”

The Drykas man nodded, grunting an acceptance of her explanation, and urged her to continue with a simple head tilt.

“Right, the question,” she began, certain that Markham was holding back his own beliefs. He smiled and tapped his calloused fingers against the back of the wooden chair in wait.

“Well I think now that I know you’ve been married, and since I am familiar with how much a family can influence who you are, my question will concern your perception of the relationships you have with those you love the most.” She paused for a tick to formulate the structure of her inquiry. Deciding to keep it simple, she continued.

“What do you care about above all else in this world of Mizahar? The answer to this will come through two cards. The first will tell me about your inner world. That can be your spirit’s world, or whatever world you believe concerns your cares for what you deem to be most private. The world that most people in your life do not see. The second card will tell me about your outer world. The one that most people see you in, the one where you interact with living beings. Both of these cards when read as a pair will tell me more about who you are in relation to what surrounds you, both inside and outside of Markham.”

Without hesitation, she picked up two cards with the thought of her question in her mind and her God in her heart. Both were placed above the second tier, facing Markham. She beamed when she noticed what she was beginning to piece together.

“Oh my Gods! Markham! Okay, this is good.” The Drykas man laughed at her joy.

“What? What do you see?” He asked, his eyes gleaming. A barmaid walked past their table and tapped Markham on the shoulder, asking if he’d like another. He gave her a quick glance and shooed her away with a hand, the gesture as swift and as polite as all his others had been when it came to his drinks. Rohka raised her brows but her partner didn’t seem to notice the surprise on her face at his refusal, and he was instead genuinely focused on the sybil’s initial excitement.

Rohka went on the explain, glad that her partner had become so attuned to the reading. “It’s just that it’s starting to come together so nicely, see? Here, I’ll explain. Do you see the swords? The grey clouds and the white clouds? And the air, goodness, the air. These stand out immediately because they’re in both cards. It tells me just how much communication, honour, and rationality mean to you, both internally and externally. You think so much! The clouds just stand out, and its as if ideas are always going through clarity and uncertainty when it comes to what you care about. But what matters to you is this method of care, of thinking things through. In your inner world, you care about something either philosophically revolutionary or revolutionarily philosophical. Or even both. You care about direct, almost piercing communication, being passionate about your ideas when in private. In your outer world, you care to win with what you say, which results in a feeling of being attacked. In order to be right, due to your care for the ideas you cling to with passion, you’re aware of the hurt you cause. It’s self-defeating at times, but it’s something you can control if you care to recognize it for what it is.”

A breeze carried through into the House and blew a wisp of hair across the sybil’s face. Distracted, she pushed it back, and then found herself instantly drained.

“I think,” she started, her voice much softer now. “That’s all I can gather for that one. I’m sure there’s more but it’s hard to find now.”

Markham stretched back, his hands gripping the top rail, his teeth showing as he grinned and cracked his elbows.

“Seeker! You’ve come so much closer now! I’m proud. Although,” and he stopped in the middle of his sentence to yawn, bring his bare chest back to lean against the chair. “I can tell you’re running low on your ability to piece the images together. You began with thinking of marriage and family, then finished with saying nothing about it. Go. Look. Use the cards. Tell me something more, in relation to the question you asked. All you need is a bit more attention.”

Rohkan hummed and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she managed to catch the eye of the barmaid that had just left. The sybil called her forward, asked for a mug of water, and returned to look deeply into the three tiers of cards that lay face up on the table.

“Alright,” she said aloud, feeling encouraged. She now took a full gulp of lake water and set the mug down gently. It was refreshing and needed. She felt herself begin to relax again, to feel into the cards again. When she finally saw the first cross-tiered pattern, she started to laugh.

“Water,” said the sybil with a smile. “Right here, in the card for your outer world. It ties in with the water and the boat from your first tier, with the juggler of coin. You care deeply about your dreams, so much so that you become emotional about it with those you care about. You strive to be serene and calm but there are moments when you become stormy and difficult, purely because you care to explain your dual ways of thinking. Your dreams have caused strife and you wish only to help your loved ones see the vastness and mystery of your ocean-like world.”

“Yes, there we go.” He said it with a sigh, as if he was relieved to hear it. “It’s true. My family has struggled with my drive lately. My crew has been supportive though, and my job allows me to explore what I wish to know while completing the tasks I am required to report. I have needed answers all my life and I will continue to find them, no matter the cost. I have only ever built my own fortune in order to accomplish this goal, seeker. You will soon find yourself in a similar need for knowledge. I can see it,” he grinned widely.

They both knew it was time for the last card. Rohka already had her hand placed on the pile. The pair locked eyes and sat in silence for what felt like long moments of pure calm.

It was beautiful.

Rohka finally closed her eyes in reluctance, yet her heart felt full, content, at peace. As if she had journeyed far and was about to arrive at the destination she’d been longing to see for an eternity.

With a flick of her wrist, she flipped the last card.

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Come to my Table

Postby Rohka on July 28th, 2019, 3:12 am

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“The page of cups.”

Rohka said it with lilt in her voice. She shook her head in disbelief and then brought a hand up to her forehead. This far and her answer was this simple?

“You’re not happy with who you’ve found?” Markham asked, the teasing tone coming through clearly for the sybil to become hilariously infuriated with.

“No of course I’m happy! I mean, I’m glad! It’s just,” she knew there was no real reason to be shocked, but she wanted it to not be so glaringly simple. This was like a card for kids! A court card, a gentle and subtle card, a message card, full of light pinks and blues. The fish in the card stood out openly, and there was, again, water in the background.

“You expected something with a bit more drama, I suppose,” said Markham with an almost sinister grin on his face.

“No I don’t know what I expected! I didn’t expect anything, I just would never have guessed this to be the card that defined you, but that’s what these cards do to me, see? They surprise me with the truths they bring out, and they help me see into my own thoughts too. Your presence, Markham, would have never allowed me to guess things like you being sensitive or needy, and those two things are the main negatives of this card. But the positives are equally hard to tell in appearance—you are a person who is imaginative and open to love, a romantic, desiring time for creative play, and willing to share your deepest feelings and dearest dreams. The fish, Markham! You are, in essence, a messenger, and an intimate one at that. And look at these lilies, such a beautiful symbol of purity. A pure, innocent, youthful page of emotions, imagination, and intuition. It’s not something I could’ve ever really pinned you for on my own. Is it accurate?”

Markham brought both his hands up to his face and rubbed his eyes, his cheeks, and then stretched his arms outwards, all while beaming, the corners of his full lips stretched upwards, the highest they had ever been during his stay.

“It’s close enough. I’m really more a Two of Cups though.” A guffaw released from his throat after he said it. With a hand up in the air and a coin in his fingers, a barmaid came right by and picked it out, replacing it with a mug of ale.

She knew the card he spoke of. It was one of equality, respect, harmony, the union of two or more entities to create something entirely new, through balance, understanding, and some type of support. Rohka smirked at him, appreciating the self analysis he’d given her, figuring it was how he chose to see himself. Or maybe he was right and she was, in fact, wrong in her reading. Either way, she was glad he approved her fortune telling.

“That was fun, Mar,” the sybil stated excitedly, aware that she’d shortened his name.

“Oh you’re giving me a nickname now, seeker? Are we friends?” Two big gulps of ale had gone down into his stomach right before he’d asked her. “You think you can just call me Mar now because your cards called me a child? How dare you,” he said, his laughing eyes glimmering as they reflected the light of candlestick. “I’ll have you know that no one calls me Mar. Or Mark. Or Markie. Or Markeroo. It’s always Markham or Captain, with my crew.” He took another gulp. “But since we certainly went far, you can call me Mar. You raised the bar, so we must now reward you with a star. As your Mar, this gift shall not be a scar—instead it will be bronze, it will be bizarre, and it will serve as my oral memoir.”

He picked up the large chain on the table and from it hung a medallion. Placing it over his own neck, he then turned it until a mirror reflected Rohka’s face.

“Let me know they heart,” he said aloud. In the mirror she could now see words popping up, but she couldn’t read them. Markham turned the medallion to look into it himself and then burst out into laughter.

“Oh good, so you love my ability to rhyme!” Rohka furrowed her brows into a knot, absolutely confused by what was happening. She began to notice the runes on the back of the medallion and started to guess that this necklace of sorts was magical in some way. What was it doing?

“Rohka,” he called out, seeking her attention. “This is for you. In payment for the reading you provided for me today. It’s called a Heartstriker Medallion. It can be used once per day, so use it carefully. It may take a while, maybe a quite a few seasons before it starts working for you. It needs to pick up on your aura and meld with it before you can use it correctly. To use it, all you have to do is what I just did right now. You hold the medallion and aim it to reflect your target in this small mirror. Once your target is reflected in the mirror, you can say, whisper, or even just think the phrase ‘Let me know thy heart.’ The reflection in the medallion, no matter the orientation, will show what your target loves the most during the moment you activated the phrase. The reflection can be a person, a place, or a thing, or even in some cases like yours just now, a concept. Did you catch the words in the mirror? They were all the words that I rhymed when I joked with you about the nickname you gave me.”

Markham reached for the chain and lifted the medallion off his neck. “This will be perfect for you, seeker. You’ll begin to learn more of what you desire to understand. You’ve made me smile today, I won’t forget it. Remember to work on your craft. To be paid, too. You will consistently be surprised with that medallion of yours - it will bring a depth to the actions of those around you.” He sighed, pondering whether he should speak of the history behind the artifact. A look into her eyes and her aura told him that she wasn’t ready. Perhaps another time, he thought.

“Thank you, Rohka. It was lovely to know that my words which were spilled through inebriated joy brought love to your heart.”

He lifted the bronze chain and brought it forward. Rohka nodded, slightly speechless after what he’d explained and simply leaned forward enough for the Drykas to place the chain around her neck. She then leaned back, feeling the weight of it. She traced the heart in the centre with her fingertips. It seemed etched in, similar to the runes, with what looked like a lightening strike through the middle of the heart. It was stunning. She looked up at the man who gifted her with this treasure and felt more than grateful, almost in awe.

“I’m afraid it’s time for me to get going,” he drank the last of his ale and stood, reaching a hand out. Rohka stood up as well and instead brought her hands up in prayer, bowing to the man before her.

“Markham,” she stated, softly but surely. The man brought his hand back down and placed it on his hip, picking up his sack on the floor, his attention still on her. “It was a pleasure having you as my first partner of the day. I hope we meet again. Please, take this simple card,” she picked up the piece of parchment that had a bit of writing on it. She then took her quill and quickly wrote down ‘page of cups’ before handing over the card. “If you ever return, you can find me either here or at The Mystic Eye, as it says right there.”

The sybil started to feel a tad awkward now, but she smiled anyways. She knew she couldn’t keep him here any longer.

“Thanks for coming to my table, Mar.”

“You’re welcome. Farewell, Rohka. By Yahal’s blessing, may we meet again.”

He winked and waved, turning towards the door and began walking away.

Rohka had no clue who he meant by Yahal. But she did notice the shimmering outline of wings on his back as Markham stepped silently out of the House.

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Come to my Table

Postby Rohka on October 22nd, 2019, 5:45 am

GRADES
rohka

Experience:
    Mathematics +1
    Business +3
    Persuasion +1
    Fortune Telling +5
    Philosophy +3
    Psychology +1
    Observation +1
    Leadership +2
    Meditation +2
    Rhetoric +1

Lores:
    Location: Trigol’s Tools & Trade
    Location: Owl’s Den
    Location: Noble Distrct
    Trigol: Has an interest in inventions
    Tegol: The owner of the Owl’s Den
    Alira Wickham: The owner of Azure Reflections
    Azure: A Kelvic slave, a peacock
    Kelvics: a shape-shifting race valued in Ravok
    Business: Making an ad-like sign to attract customers
    Business: Charge for services, even when practicing
    Rohka: Loves unique colours
    Rohka: Fears knowing how much she doesn’t know
    Rohka: Is in love with the control Rhysol has over everything in the city
    Rohka: Was given an Eypharian name by her mother, inspired by her hands
    Fortune Telling: Read people by seeing WHO they are
    Fortune Telling: The ‘Who Are You’ Pyramid method
    Philosophy: Every mistake teaches something new on the way to mastery
    Philosophy: Look back on your words to find further truth in them
    Psychology: Multiple partnerships can exist simultaneously, but you earn the respect, status and competence required to be the first choice
    Leadership: See through what you promised and finish what you started
    Leadership: It is a betrayal to yourself to let others imprint their will on you
    Markham: His son died, his wife was not present
    Markham: A traveller who had many names, from the Amethyst clan of navigators
    Markham: Is a Page of Cups, an intimate messenger
    Eypharians: A race with multiple arms
    Business: A partner is someone who shares the profit and losses
    Rohka: wants people to trust her enough to become her partner, when telling fortunes
    Drykas: A race that values children, for the survival of families
    Leonara Calico: Rohka’s great-grandmother, whose legitimate son left the family when he married
    Cyrus Calico: Leonara’s illegitimate/bastard child
    Cheva: Goddess of Love
    Lacun: a mark of divorce, given to Sivary and Cyrus

Additional Notes:

+1 Heartstriker Medallion :D


If you have any concerns over this grade, don't hesitate to send me a message on either Discord or Miz. Also, please be sure to EDIT any posts in the grading queue to 'Graded'. Enjoy!
-Rohka ❤
Most active on weekends.
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Rohka
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Posts: 345
Words: 366352
Joined roleplay: May 24th, 2013, 5:28 pm
Location: Zeltiva
Race: Human
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