Curiosity killed the cat, or the saying goes. Either that or the Sacrificial Lion trope decided it was going to rear its ugly head. Man, those were the days when the internet was young and his own children were mere tykes. Others, Alonso noticed, had taken interest in a particular, young fortune teller. Wait. Did he know this person? Eh, that did not matter in the end. The Felis was not particular to every single person in this world. Even attempting to get to know everyone will take way too long. Spending money on trash, he knew, was far from a good idea, but at least game mechanics were able to circumvent some of that.

Placing the 50G into the pot, a drawn out sigh escaped the bearish man's lips. Perhaps he should keep it simple, yet, perhaps selfish at the same time, "Might I ask what the future holds in regards to whether I'll obtain the power I need to protect those I am beholden too, family or otherwise? Or... even if I'll overcome a few complications in my own life."

 

@Claire Thalassa​

Rook nods and rubs their hands together for a moment before summoning the dizzily floating cards to order themselves into a settled deck. The top card glows for a moment before flipping to lay before you in all its glory. A regal king sits lofty upon his throne. Gold gilds his crown, his rings, his throat, his throne, and the sun-lit kingdom behind him. He wants for nothing, a King Midas who has learned restraint.

King of Pentacles
Nothing happens.​

Rook

Of clothing or- Matters not for This One, but for Them. They'll speak to its future, the weave of its path? The king is secure, his reign and power settled. Cold Breath and Doubt, They speak of success. Work sturdy as mountain roots pays well in golden veins, but for this in a gilded name. It will be known. You will be known.

They tilt their head for a moment, tapping a single finger on the top of the deck, before tapping a nail on it instead. A card slides free and flips as bade. A blindfolded woman is perched upon a cliff. In either hand she holds a sword, the two balanced against the hilt of the other, the blades crossed in front of her hidden eyes.

Two of Swords.
Nothing happens.​

Rook

More than gold, the mine matters too. Your stake in this, your reward or fall to possess? In time a decision. You will stand at the crux of something great, in the name of your work or from the work of your research. Emotion and logic choke, drown, weight heavy. What will you choose?

For the final, Rook leans back with a sly smile and, without a lick of magic, draws the next to study its face. The back of the card offers nothing, nor does the fortuneteller's expression. After a pause, Rook lays it flat before you and meets your eyes once they leave the card. Stars shine on the old card, lighting the figure of a woman kneeling by the side of a mirror-like pool. For a moment you see your face reflected in it.

The Star.
You receive an item, a gift from the universe itself.​

Loot

Heavenly Gown - Costume

A beautiful evening dress of fine silk dotted with stars, it curls around the throat before hanging low in the back. The color is a deep navy blue, so much so that it seems nearly black. Small shimmers of silver thread, making up a beautiful galaxy, catch the light with every movement.

Rook

So to travel through shifting sands, unsure tides, what prints left behind? What tale will they tell of your tale? Hope will dawn after the despair, after the choice you make. Should you make the one They See. It is a card of faith in the world, in the universe, and in yourself. That you might see more than the ills of it. When you think that it is over, it will not be, and you will shine all the greater for your faith in it.

 

@Alonso Thorlion​

Rook greets the great Duke, though neither knows the other, with a welcoming smile. They gesture with both hands for the man to sit and await his question with a curious gaze. Finally, they move to draw three at once and lay them down between the two. The first is flipped to reveal a queen upon a throne, a chalice in her hands that runs over to blend with the water of her dress. Her hair turns to a cloud-spotted sky where it falls over her shoulders. She peers sadly down into the water, her upside-down face reflected with a soothing smile.

Queen of Cups, Reversed.
Nothing happens.​

Rook

How great a kingdom? How secure the power? No great enemy sieges you, no knife thirsts for your back. You are an island and you will break if you do not yield. Do not accept. Things can remain calm and tame for so long before they rot. This one is too kind, but too quiet. The fist must have a say, even in the court of a heart.

The second card reveals a figure as neutral in gender at the caster of the cards themselves. The angel pours waters from one cup to another, though no length of looking shows which way the flow goes. Their expression is peaceful and their eyes are closed.

Temperance
You are offered a drink, to calm your worries.
​

Loot

Open Palm Wine - Collectible

A tall bottle with a glass hand formed around the neck, the fingers delicately holding the cork. The palm wine within is a cloud white, the drink smooth and sweet despite the thickness and the strong scent. Be sure to pour some out for those not there to share with.

Rook

The fates of so many, draped across shoulders in a cloak of expectation. Will The Bridge from Crown to Crop save them? Not only, but harmony. The tempering hand is your own to wield, your word the guide to compromise and to comfort. Serve them with balance and know patience for yourself.

The next carries on the chain of chalices. A figure stands forlornly in mourning clothes, staring down despondently at three spilled cups. Their contents have joined the great river cutting by him, though two standing ones remain in the shadow of his cloak.

Five of Cups, Reversed
Nothing happens.​

Rook

A king of beasts grows weary too. Do you rule alone with shadows? We wonder if more awaits you, as do you. The past, actions and words and regrets, follow the scent and trail with a passion, but they've lost it of late. They grow wearier than you and despite the time lost to them, more yet remains. Are your days half-empty or half-full? The Not-King should take heed to recover and move forward, but carry the empty with you that you will not forget. There is security in risk tempered by them. There is comfort in opening anew.

 

Corvella haven't been a fan of fortune-telling in the real world, since she believe her fate is on her own hands. But in-game, who knows if something as simple as fortune-telling could change the unfolding events? She entered the tent in curiosity. Her eyes stopped at the sight of the fortuneteller, hand on the top of a card stack. Tarot, huh? Interesting. She imagined fortune-telling in a world like this to be more magic-centric.

She placed 50G into the pot slowly. As she was going to ask, her lips hesitated for a while, before she finally asked a question "I just want to know if I will be able to find the strength to go on and face the odds."

An ambiguous question, indeed. But she preferred it that way.

 

Coming across the booth, Alkaid couldn't help but smile. Not only for what amounted more for fun and games experiences in the real world, or even where her roleplay in game was concerned, where her interest might be assumed for merely taking notes, but moreso for sheer appreciation of the ambiance. Subtle touches here and there that were creative and wholly impossible in what were often gaudy real-world counterparts. Even if one didn't believe in superstition, it was hard to deny interest when one could feel the magic.

Producing 50g from her inventory, she dropped it into the dish as requested. "I would like to know whether it would be for the best to hold onto a relationship that has proven painful."

 

@Corvella​

As you enter, the fortuneteller waves with their long fingers, but says nothing as you settle and decide on your words. When they hear the question they peer curiously at the cards, a glint in their eye, before drawing one off the top. A woman in plate scowls at the retreating backs of her enemies, four swords stolen from them a tribute at her feet as she clutches to her own in hand. A tempest approaches on the horizon.

Five of Swords
Nothing happens.​

Rook

Where are the challenges The Knight Behind Phantoms faces, where are the great walls she sees before her? You win, you won. Enemies lay defeated all around and yet you are not safe. Does a betrayal await you, a great defeat, or a hollow victory? Or do They whisper for you to take care?

They cut the deck in two twice, reordering and drawing. Their motions are oddly simple despite the flair of the room, their clothes, and their task itself. The second card is laid down and the figure on it is in his own world. A man crafts golden disks, ignoring the bustle of figures in the shadows outside his forge, eyes set on their glow. Six rest, cooling and completed. He only has two more to finish.

Eight of Pentacles
Nothing happens.​

Rook

The odds are set. What is your shield and sword, your strength? Dedication and education. You have training, are. You grow by the day and steady you sword hand that it might slay, that it might stay. So worried and displeased by all that you see that you are blind to your mastery of craft. Of spirit. There is only greater to be.

Once again they shuffle the deck before you, eyes closed as they press their final question toward the aether. They cease and draw the top to lay before you and it is beautiful to witness. A graveyard stretches out forever and from the flower-covered graves rise people lifting their hands in joy to a nebulous figure above them reaching back. There is the distinct feeling of loss and victory, knowing that some will be judged wanting while others are chosen, beloved. However, you know this is as it should be, it is right.

Judgement
In the light of the card, you receive understanding.
Coupon: 25% Off Death Affliction Healing​

Rook

Strength can still fail. Swords can blunt. Shields can shatter. Arms grow weary. Will you be enough? Times come to reach deep and find a calm, find the place within where All Is Right, even when wrong. Find the place from which all can understand and all are equal and you have already won. Absolution is your next dawning. Embrace Her.

 

Aalam was making his way around the fair it was nice a way for people to relax and forget their troubles in the wake of a war. Sometimes things just worked out he guessed but it even with the great amount of liquor in his veins there was things he had been putting to the back of his mind for the last few days. Taking a hit from his flask so bury those though back in the dark areas of his mind and shut that hole tight there were things that he needed to do and worry about his actions was not going to help him move forward. He didn't pay attention to where he was going however and letting his feet take him where they wanted to go. They had brought him to a small tent nestled in a corner of the fair out of the way enough that a person wouldn’t have noticed it unless they were looking. It feels odd to him like the first time that he had felt the touch of dark magic in terra, this place brought back those chills. It was a fortune reader.

Making his way inside the tent to take a seat at the dealer’s table he had never trusted people like this in the real world but here. There was something about them that might not be complete fiction. Well, he didn’t like to take chance but in this case, well there might be something to gain. Taking out 50g from his pocket and placing it on the table. If he knew anything these people liked to tell half-truths he needed to word his question as well as possible. “I need to know if I would have a chance to impress the person that I have a crush on. Can you answer this?”

That was the only question that matter right now to him. He might be back to work for the duke the next day but for this one day, things would be different.

 

In the real world, Ursula didn't like to toy with things like tarot cards for a number of reasons, however in this world, Alex was far more willing to face and challenge fate. The tent offering a vision into ones future, or guidance along that path was an intriguing one. If Ursula was being honest with herself, part of why she decided to send Alex along this path was more gamer knowledge than character knowledge. Such things sometimes held secrets and treasures.

Alex clunked into the tent in her heavy armor. It did nothing to protect her from the strange atmosphere. The eerie light of arcanamantic symbols dancing and moving about inside caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. When this stranger spoke, something about the quality of their voice sent a shiver down Alex's spine. Their question gave her pause. She had been willing to consult fate, but did not know what she wanted to consult it about. Thinks like where she would find her next piece of armor, or adventure, seemed too trivial. What the fate of the nation as a whole was seemed to large a thing to ask. It had to relate to Alex, but have meaning.

Will I become a famous hero? the question formed in her mind, but died before it could pass her lips. It was too vain, too selfish. True a question as it might be, and as telling about at least part of herself as it was, that question would not do either. Thinking for a moment and biting her lips Alex pondered, before her metal sheathed hand passed the 50 gold coins into the proper place.

"What should I do to become strong enough to become a true guardian? To protect the most people that deserve to be protected?" her voice resonated metallic within her helmet as it carried out to the instrument of fate.

 

@Alkaid Zexis​

The Faerin welcomes you with a grand gesture to take a seat, eyeing the gold as the question is given. The tarot cards themselves seem to arch into a fleeting touch before they swiftly shuffle with a faint, purple glow. They reorder, settle, and one flips over with a sound as soft as a sigh. The ease of the movement is a painful contrast compared to the dark look immediately on the mage's face. Even moreso in comparison to the card itself. A foul creature peers back. It has great horns that curve toward the stone wall behind it and chains that hang down, wrapped around its arms. The other ends of the chains are held by a handful of humans. At a glance, they appear bound to the beast but a closer look shows they cling to the metal without a lock or manacle to be seen.

The Devil
Gain a Death Affliction.
​

The Matron (Death Affliction) Mother knows best, and while you aren't one, you do in fact know best. You've been there, done that, and you know better. It's only right that you guide the unwitting down the right path. You have advice for everything and you'll hear nothing to the contrary. And if they don't take your advice? Well, you'll just have to do what you think is in their best interest, whether they like it or not.

Rook

This One needs no cards to answer, but as asked so answered. What is to be gained from holding tight to burning shackles? You hold the reins, but would allow yourself to be driven from the road into brambles. Driven down sheer cliffs. There is only a hopeless surrender to the power of others through willing blindness. A hand can feed and hurt in turn, but a hand that hurts knows only how to hinder. Bite it.

The next is drawn with another flicker of magic. The cards spiral around each other over the wooden grain before one separates to float gently down. The shape of a woman, half curled in on herself and swaddled in blankets is apparent. It is dark on the card, but the posture is clear. Misery grips her. Nine swords hang above her like the weight of the world.

Nine of Swords, Reversed
Nothing happens.​

Rook

We, Many and Lone, wonder at the why. Why cling? What chains remain to leash a Maiden to her Iron Twin? Does one hope to suffer less to save more or does concern for another bind you? They suddenly laugh, a mean little noise. Or expectations of others? Miserable fears and anxieties, doubts and the eyes of society, family, friends. Fool concerns. You, like others before to fall into the rut, mourn for freedoms and hopes of highs. You, like others, will get only lows.

The fortuneteller reaches for the deck once more, but takes pause. They tilt their head for a moment with a wary look. The deck is not shuffled, whatever was left on top is where it should be. They draw and lay, reversed, a peculiar and haunting visage. A woman sits on a throne of moons and stars and planets. Half of her body is hidden in shadows so dark you feel you could reach through the card and into the cold. Her expression is distorted by the shade. The other half shines so brilliantly that the details of her features are likewise blurred. Despite being unable to tell the precise location of her eyes, the figure seems to look straight through you.

High Priestess, Reversed
The card whispers to you, but it is so very hard to hear here. The Fortuneteller speaks and the crowds live so vibrantly. It slips away, but you still hear the echo.​

Rook

What steps to take, what advice does she give? There is only yourself. You know your answer. She is You and, within, knows all. Your action is a step to take without the say of another. It is a truth you have heavy in your heart or manteled over shoulders. Deny it no longer, look within and meet the eyes of absolution. The only opinion, the only consideration is the life that is your own. Damn the rest. Take the reins and take heed of the voice. You are Queen in your Court. Your will is your law.

When the festival is done and you return to your lodgings to sleep, you dream.​

From the darkness behind your eyes comes a blinding light. Your bare feet freeze as the ice floe beneath you shifts under your weight, far colder than home, but with the same scent unique to those New England shores. A sea stretches out all around you, an unfamiliar shoreline behind you and a distorted island in front. Across heaving, jagged waves the island hangs disjointed and cast away from the water's surface.

The sun rises beyond it, but the moon above the island does not move. Does not fade. It stares back like a great eye and your breath comes shorter. The air grows colder. The ice you stand on creeps up over your skin. When you look down, you can see your bones through the diamond of your skin.

Every stepping stone of ice within view was never ice at all. The crystals sound like wind chimes as the water forces their collisions. You cannot move your hands as they turn too. The moon keeps watching. You feel it creep up your throat.

'Be afraid, Daughter-Mine,' she whispers. Your eyes turn to sapphires and you cannot look away. Not until you wake, eyes dry and joints creaking in complaint. The cold clings for hours before it fades.

 

@Aalam Abungu​

Your words gain only a faint nod for a moment, a polite but rather bored expression on the card reader's face as the question comes and goes. Silence hangs before they finally stretch, the pop of a shoulder and the cracking of fingers breaks the eerie silence before the shuffle of cards begins. It isn't long before the first card is revealed. An upside-down and heavy bower full to bursting of flowers and silks stands, supported on four carved staves, over a couple. Their faces are hidden by their hair or posture, but there is a joyous celebration in the lines of their bodies.

Four of Wands, Reversed
Nothing happens.​

Rook

Can This One answer? No, This One is the quill, breath the ink, but The Many That Clamor to Teach the mind and tongue and sight. Do they see a glimmer of victory dawning for the Archer Aimed Between Shoulders? So finicky a card. There is an imbalance, a threat from without or a disharmony within. A stake driven that cracks a foundation or a false one trembles in consideration. Your stars are misaligned, but not damnable. Take heed to settle or throw caution to tempests.

Their hands flutter over the cards for a moment, a soft hum as the flick through and cut the deck, eyes distant. Whatever they were asking or listening for, they're satisfied with what they get and cease to pull the next card. One clings to it for a moment, but the Faerin resettles the card below with a stern expression. There is only need for one. A magnificent king dominates the center of the card. His throne and adornments are all dripping in splendid gold. An eternal dawn rises over the golden empire behind him. The king's face shows lines of pride, but he is not unkind and his hands are gentle where they rest.

King of Pentacles
Nothing happens.​

Rook

What shines so bright as to stand your silhouette, stark, against that of others? Embrace your given gifts. There is power in ambition and alike. Stability wavers about, the four staves unseated, but perhaps your core is to right them? Wealth, be it gold or sway, changes hands from on high and is returned in loyalty to a righteous rule. This King guides and never need know the iron fist.

Rook pulls the deck from their side to the middle of the low table, the floating trail of them fitting neatly into a stack. As they pull a card, another beneath clings to it and they scowl at the tarot deck, as if they were squabbling children. This time, Rook pauses and takes the card from below rather than the top to reveal. The other is returned to the deck. A man stands in victory, hand held tight around the grip of his sword and watching the retreating backs of beaten foes. Their four, fallen swords are left abandoned in his shadow. He is victorious, but a tempest gathers in the distance.

Five of Swords
Nothing happens.​

Rook

How to greet the coming dawn, what words on wicked winds are spoken? Foreseen, forewarned, or foretold? A curious card of betrayal. Of victories and losses and places in between. Pyrrhic. So sure of victory, are we? Small steps bring you higher and goals clearer in reach, but take care you not face the judgment of the lightning when the storm wall meets the castle wall. Pick your battles with care, days spent in the company of a beloved mean nothing with iron bars or coffin nails between.

 

@Alex Marquardt​

The white-haired Faerin watches curiously as you enter, eyeing some of the more delicate items the many plates of the armor glance by. Nothing falls and as you sit at the table, they relax. You're not the bull in the china shop today. A snap of their long fingers has the deck jumping to life, shuffling and flipping and sliding smoothly in a flurry of cardstock. They freeze, reassemble, and flutter to sit politely between you both. The first card slides off and flips over with a faint glow. A king sits upon a wooden throne, the seat carved into the bow of a ship as its figurehead. The sea at his feet is calm despite the waves that appear to writhe on the card at the sides of the ship.

King of Cups
Nothing happens.​

Rook

What tempers a sword to a shield? The manner of a guardian from wall to hound to foundation or word. There is a core within that must be made greater than, what power do you wield? An inner control becomes without. While dangers come and go, while blessings grow and fade, it is a resolute balance of inner spirit and a generous kindness that will cut through ill tides. There is more that muscle, there must be a mind. It too must be kept steady.

Next, they cut the deck once and set it aside. The top cards of both rotate with a swipe of magical will before being cut once more. The lavender glow of Arcanamancy lines each card and the four stacks are woven together to be whole once more. The top card is flipped and the sight is grim. A body lays clinging to the earthen ceiling, the sky of the reversed card jagged with the hilts of the ten swords sheathed in the figure's back. In the shadow of their half-hidden face, their expression is peaceful. Whatever has led them here, it is not the end. In their gaze is a dawn in one eye and a dusk in the other.

Ten of Swords, Reversed
Nothing happens.​

Rook

Withstand a rain of blows or hold back an iron wind, the steps to take to climb the mount are many. The path They'd alight for They That Ask? Defeat is probable. Death is possible. Hardships are apart of life and to walk from the flames only grows greater your hide. The wildfire razes, but only because it must. The new growth will be better. Be ready to calm your mind, steel your soul, and walk on. Shake off the ember and the ash. It too shall pass.

Rook reaches out to pull the deck closer as their magic is dismissed. They shuffle the cards slowly and with a curious expression. A small smile grows as they pause and replace the card they had moved to put on the bottom. They pull to card to peer at it for a spell before placing it before you with a look of sated curiosity. An ambiguous figure stands in a garden of pages, heavy with scrawling ink and arcane symbols. They hold aloft a staff and, though their face is tilted toward the heavens, you feel the eyes of the upside-down card upon you. Heavy. They judge and accept in equal measure.

The Magician, Reversed
Nothing happens.​

Rook

Deserves. They grow silent, something alive in the question. Who deserves? How does Ironclad know who deserves? Such judgment. We wonder if you have the right... or are right. You have roots in your goal but remain ungrounded from reality. So much potential, so much power. It can be righted, but beware snakes. They sell oil, lies, and love, but their support corrodes. Undermines. Here, as you are, you are vulnerable. It is so much easier to fall for honey. The sheep of your flock can hide behind your shield and pry the teeth from your head.

 

Vivian stepped within the tent, her azure gaze only caught interest to the particular individual upon the middle of the tent sitting on a dizzying rug. Her smile was relaxed just as passive as the invididual looking back at her. She moved with light steps as they spoke their words to her. Cryptic as they were, she was no stranger to the world of tarot card readings. This felt somewhat familiar to her.

To her gaze moved to the bowl, articulately cast in the same sense of the rest of the atmosphere within the tent. The woman dropped to her knees and dropped off 100g to the Fortune Teller. The splash of metallic ringing into the tent. The extra 50 gold was to help preserve the lifestyle one dabbles in. It was a hard life to live on Fortune Telling alone, the extra was just to help out a little bit from one exotic individual to another.

Fortune Telling was much like a game, she had seen fake ones use body language to stir up emotion from the individual, or expressions through the face. If this person was the real deal, they would not need any sort of expressionism besides their own mystical force. But the individual did say to ask for what she wanted.

Red lips parted into a simple smile as she sat crossed legged, she looked into their eyes and held it for the moment before her lips parting. She said no words to them, instead she brushed her hair off her shoulder and leaned in with her own set of cryptic words.

"Terra holds many secrets yet visited by many. I am not looking for keys to open doors or knowledge into my past or past lives. What I am seeking is of more value. I wish to see what Astorea has in its future. As its Future Queen, I wish to know more of the land before I conquer it."

 

Alex's eyes grew wide within her helmet as she watched the cards flutter and dance about. Such little magic still managed to put on such a big performance. It awed Alex to watch, and the soft tones of the eerie individual on the other side of the table were all the more entrancing. The first card seemed to be a lesson, reinforcing her own beliefs about determination, as well as assuring her to continue to work smarter, rather than harder. The second struck closer to home. It was true that the burdens of the past, of fire and ash, were still carried with her.

Alex could still remember the bodies. Carrying them on her shield to graves that she helped dig, as she moved rubble from a collapsed wall that she failed to help protect. No matter how hard she drank at the festival, how much fun she told herself to have, those memories were still sitting fresh in her mind. The upset and pain they had brought her were not growing duller. These cards, however, were telling her to not let such things burden her shield. To make sure she was not being held back by the loss, but instead pressing forward with continued resolve.

Perhaps these fortune tellers were not all pretty lies and well crafted tricks. As Alex suspected they might be. It seemed instead that there were real lessons to be learned, even if the guidance seemed general. These were the same kinds of things a wise mentor or friend might have been able to tell her. Without one close at hand, a bit of gold was a small price to pay for the same sagacious advice.

The eerie smile on rook's features gave Alex another small shiver. She was now fully engaged in the proceedings and watched the final card be placed with rapt attention. The grave warning that followed the placement of such a card, came as a surprise. Treacherous snakes hiding behind her? Who deserved to be protected? While it was true Alex had wondered before how to choose sides in a battle, she'd been trying her best to protect one side without being the killer of the other, unless absolutely necessary. She had always known it was not a tenable solution. In every conflict she would have to choose sides; but now her fears were brought to life. That those she protected might undermine her goals? This was grim news indeed and Alex could not help but place another fistful of gold where it went.

"Please! You must tell me how to avoid these snakes that would do me harm! How do I determine who the right people to protect are? How do I maintain my course of true justice, valor, and right? I beseech you and fate!" Alex had a pleading tone to her metallic voice that was rarely heard.

 

It was a snap decision. A momentary weakness. A crippling curiosity.

An instance of inspiration and inquisition.

The alcohol had drawn it out, and he found himself standing before the Seer with feline eyes once more, fifty gold pieces placed on the table. It wasn’t an unpleasant experience, no, this Harvest Festival, nor could he claim that he was truly expecting any concrete answers.

But then, if he had expected nothing at all, he wouldn’t have been here to begin with, no?

There was no longer a mask, nor a hint of bemusement. The expression Cain beheld was that of the actress behind the character, as he looked into the Fortune Teller’s eyes.

“Three separate questions.”

Fifteen gold pieces slid forward.

“What has befallen the Paladin of the Ashen Blade, Eldhi Arc? Progression or manipulation?”

Seventeen gold pieces slid forward.

“What is the true face of the Witch of Scarlet Thorns, Magi Heart? The savior or the destroyer?”

Eighteen gold pieces slid forward.

“What awaits before the path of the girl named Seigi Ling Ling? Desolation or invigoration?”

Cain smiled then, softly.

“In these three separate fates that have intersected with my own, what tapestry is formed, Beholder of the Iris?”

 

@Vivian Cruz​

The fortuneteller says nothing as more than asked is given, a friendly but rather lifeless smile on their lips. Rook raises a hand to hide a splitting smile poorly and laughs lightly at the declaration of royalty. They don't seem too impressed, but shrug. A flick of their hand has the deck shuffling wildly and gleaming card flies free to land with certainly. A golden-haired king, his face obscure, stands tall in a gleaming chariot as brilliant a color as his hair. In his hand, he holds a staff of his right and leads two great steeds, one jet black and the other a pure white, by willpower alone.

Chariot
When you go to leave the stall, half-hidden in the folds of the curtained walls you find a dark, wooden whistle. If Rook notices you take it, they make no move to stop you.
You'll get your mount after the patch release so just hold tight!​

Rook

Many ranges, nations like mountains hard to move but easy to climb. She has found herself her peak. What measure of its foundation? The victorious stand unshaken. Whatever storms are gone, banished and cast aside like worries gone forgotten. Power and focus and refusal to bow has won a dawn turned rising sun. There is no dusk in sight for so long as the hand remains steady, the heart focused. Aggression is instinct is human. It has been mastered and will forge the road ahead.

The faint purple magic glows along the edges of the cards once more they spin idly together in a dance before four cut away. They shuffle themselves before one is drawn from the separate stack. A god of unknown nature looms protectively over two entwined figures. The man clings to the woman's hands and peers at her adoringly. The woman has no such sight for him, her eyes locked on something greater than them both. Her hands on his are not unkind, but the grasp is lax.

The Lovers
You catch more flies with honey. Gain +1 Rep with Astorea.​

Rook

There are perils to kings, to courts, to queens, to knights. This One wonders if you're one of them? The perils or the queens? No matter, advice for your coronation then. Strength of union, of an alliance, gilds power with purpose. Values must be unshakable, the truth of self embraced, choices weighed. It is not enough to stand. There must be something for. One must be greater than themselves.

Rook drags the next card from the top of the deck with a single finger, magic flipping and balancing the cardstock on the tip of their finger. They lean on one elbow and hum curiously at the sight. Eight worn staves arch through the air on the reversed card, though not with ease. Depictions of biting winds have thrown off their intended path.

Eight of Wands, Reversed
Nothing happens.​

Rook

Should you climb and sit upon a seat of power, how long will you reign? With you be a golden age or a rusted one? They lean down to stage whisper to the cards their next question. Long live the queen? Obstacles are many, so too are the paths. Too many goals to pursue in too many places through too many hands. It only gets worse. Ascention takes more than ambition. Perhaps you'll carve out your throne. You'll chart an expedition through hell and high water before you're even close to the granite slab. They smile sweetly at you, but there is a coldness in their eyes. Remember This One fondly should you rule.