Gristly Summons Apr 8, 2020 13:57:11 GMT -6
Post by Ikra on Apr 8, 2020 13:57:11 GMT -6
Ikra's PL: 33,000
Ikra's PL: 33,000
Magic was a curious thing to be sure. On Konats, it was practically a way of life. She was familiar with both shadow magic and old Konatsian magicks by virtue of her unintentional eavesdropping. One day, she had stumbled across an artifact of some interest in the marketplace. A pocket watch. It had originally caught her eye due to the eerie similarity in the gemstone to the one her darling Riis had entrusted her with. After purchasing it to examine it more thoroughly, Ikra had discovered that it was an inferior version of the same kind of gem.
She thought to simply toss it aside, but her curiosity had been piqued. A few spells and rituals later, and Ikra had determined a certain… power clinging to the pocket watch. She supposed one might call it ki, or life force, or a bit of soul… Whatever one called it, the pocket watch had a powerful attachment to someone. Ikra could only guess if they were living or dead, but judging by the way the pocket watch had strayed so far, Ikra would guess that they were no longer among the living.
Which… led Ikra to a bit of a predicament. Well, not so much a predicament as a choice. Given the crest on the pocket watch, Ikra could infer that it belonged to some sort of Saiyan. Cress’s earlier visit made her nervous about potentially summoning a Saiyan warrior’s spirit. But… for Riis and for Konats… She wasn’t yet strong enough to protect them herself. She wasn’t where she needed to be, and who better to train her than a fallen Saiyan warrior?
After mulling over for a few days, Ikra rolled the pocket watch around in the palm of her hand. She had drawn a magic circle on the floor of her quarters and had procured the necessary components for the spell. All that was left to do was cast it. Letting out a sigh and standing up from her bed, Ikra strode over to the circle. If it could give Konats and her dear Riis a better chance, then she had to do it. Ikra sliced her palm with a ritual knife, letting her black blood drip to the floor and travel along the runes of the magic circle. With one finger from her other hand, Ikra painted her blood onto the pocket watch and recited the incantation for the spell in flawless ancient Konatsian. Purple smoke rose up from the floor as a figure began to take shape in the center. Her incantation finished, Ikra watched with no small amount of anticipation, putting on her most gentle and charming smile.
“Welcome back to the world of the living, fallen warrior.”