Open Take a Chance on Me

Summoning on the beach...?

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While Sylira is by far the most civilized region of Mizahar, countless surprises and encounters await the traveler in its rural wilderness. Called the Wildlands, Syliran's wilderness is comprised of gradual rolling hills in the south that become deep wilderness in the north. Ruins abound throughout the wildlands, and only the well-marked roads are safe.

Take a Chance on Me

Postby Rohka on September 7th, 2019, 4:31 am

80th of Fall, 519 AV

OOCPlease feel free to PM me if you're interested in meeting Rohka and the crew that arrived on the beach!


A clear blue sky with white fluffy clouds was what the sybil saw above her while she sat on a crate by the shore, holding a crowbar in the grip of one hand and using the other to play with the chain of a bronze medallion around her neck. She silently watched the crew setting up for a temporary stay on the land. Some of them unpacked a few of their things while others went out to fish, and the restless ones were in charge of going out to find some wood and tinder for a good bonfire. Being silent and watchful was unusual for Rohka, but she had already told the crew that she would help make a pit over on this side while they worked. By the time they were done bringing over everything required for their short stay, Rohka promised to have a fire going, and fish ready to be eaten. The children wanted her to cook over the ‘magic pit’ and she said she would try if they brought her their catch.

Zeltiva was close by, but Markham—also known as the Captain of Lady Requite, his Saique—had wanted to stop here, for many reasons. Primarily for amusement.

“Hey Meer, over here!” The Captain called for Rohka's father, and Meer Calico slowly lumbered over to a fairly flat area of the beach, not too far from where his daughter was sitting. Roh smirked, her hands holding onto either end of a crowbar and lifting it over her head to rest on her neck, squinting in Syna’s brightness. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to stay here for too long. Judging by the look in Markham’s eyes and the jug of ale he was gripping in his hand, the spry Drykas was ready to cause a bit of trouble.

ImageWalking beside him was a gentleman dressed in linen with a leather vest and a long scar running from his forehead down the left side of his cheek. Other than the marred face, his features were strikingly angular in a way that made him seem almost inhuman. His tawny, weathered skin contrasted severely with the dark, smooth ebony of Markham’s bare-chested physique, and the wispy grey shoulder-length locks were nothing like the carefully braided dreads on the Captain’s head. This peculiar man was no longer a stranger to them. He called himself Zordon, and he’d been all but rescued from a sinking ship that he was sailing by himself. They’d been travelling together for many days now but the sybil couldn’t quite trust him nor his story just yet. Something about him didn’t seem right to her; it was in the way he talked, and it was especially in the way he let something else talk for him…

Zordon had apparently escaped from persecution in Sunberth. He was a self proclaimed mage from a family of competent summoners, which was a form of magic that her father had spoken of briefly in her youth. She had never seen her father use it before. All Rohka knew was that he had learned a bit during his time in Zeltiva, but he’d always brush it off as being irrelevant to their life in Ravok. There had been a pride whenever Meer spoke of the magic, but it was never displayed in any real depth, and Rohka never cared enough to ask.

Today, however, the sybil predicted she would learn whether she cared to or not.

“Meer! C’mon brother, don’t chicken out on me now!” Markham had become fond of the half-Vantha through their travels. They had spent more than half a season getting to know each other now, and the Captain loved the way that Meer had the proclivity to agree to almost every dare they shot at each together when they got drunk. It always made for a fun time. Meer finally caught up to the pair, his axe by his side, giving a quick nod to his daughter.

“I’m here now, for petch’s sake, get on with it,” he grumbled. Rohka caught her father’s glance and knew that the message was directed to her as well. She stood up and began to use the crowbar to open the crate. She shimmied the short end between the lid and the body, wedging it further until it felt like she had enough to push up. The lid began to separate from the body of the crate.

“Perfect,” Meer was beaming. “Alright Zordon, since my good man here has the, um,” Markham turned to Meer and slapped him on the back. “Hey, what were those coordinates called again?”

“Astral,” he coughed out, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes. “Astral coordinates. To Fyrden.”

“Right! Great, that. Zordon, you’ll show us how it’s done, won’t you?”

Rohka continued onwards as if she wasn’t listening, when in fact, she was. She knew the Captain had chosen to come this close purely so that she could watch them. The astral coordinates to Fyrden was a number that her father had memorized in his youth. Roh had been surprised in her childhood when she learned that he’d made summoning circles before, and had some early successes with it. What she didn’t know until recently, however, was that he had always wanted what was called a Familiar.

A high-pitched giggling sound came from a cloud of blood-red smoke that dissipated out of a kitten on Zordon’s shoulder. The cloud answered Markham as if he had been talking to it all along.

“You folks have no idea what you’re inviting!” The giggles intensified. “Consider yourselves warned okay? Don, you’re SO lucky this keener human actually remembered all those numbers! I can’t promise you that you’ll get what you want though, but I’ll try! Gosh my friends and family are going to be so excited. Did you know—“

Rohka tuned out at this point and focused on opening the crate with her crowbar. She re-wedged the tool a bit further down the seam and clicked her teeth but the pitching thing wouldn’t pop open. An idea popped into her mind: her tail could probably add a bit more strength. Roh waved the dark scaly limb over to wrap around the crowbar. It took another heaving push with her weight above the stick of metal to finally get the top off.

She carefully unpacked a few things. First came out the hanging fire pit. She set the piece firmly in the ground and activated it by whispering “ignite” next to the cauldron. Next came out a cozy—a magic pie cozy, to be exact. In it was one last slice of peach pie. Rohka’s deep umber gaze started to sparkle when she saw it. The things in this crate were packed when they were in Sunberth and she’d forgotten about it since. She figured this would be perfect as dessert for the meal she planned to help make for Markham’s kids later that day.

The last slice had to be finished, though.

Swiftly, Rohka removed the rest of her needed items in the crate and then turned it upside down to sit on it again before lifting the cover of the cozy. She grabbed a fork and carefully placed the slice on her plate. With a satisfied sigh of relief, the sybil started to eat and overheard the trio continuing their conversation.

“Captain, you’re sure about this?”

“Positive. Kitty here has us covered and Zordon will lead the way. And hey! Seeker!”

Rohka turned towards the Captain with her mouth full. “What?” She mumbled out.

He laughed when he saw her face. “Come join us when you’re done, you need to see this!”

The sybil groaned and offered a thumbs up. Meer now held a stick in his hand, and so did the refugee mage.

They began to craft a circle in the sand.

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