#unethical mage

[milkyhoneybee]

Unethical magic friend who uses you to solve their problems without asking you or considering your comfort

They ran out of milk for their morning coffee? They snap their fingers and suddenly your tits are massive and leaking milk. They take what they need and don't bother changing you back until they remember hours or days later, even if you try to remind them they just wave you off saying 'sure, sure, I just need to finish working out this summoning circle' and get distracted again

Sometimes they read something in a book that gets them horny or there's something they couldn't figure out, or they just pass someone in the market who takes their fancy, so guess who's helping them recreate it? You lose track of the amount of times you've been turned into the current object of their desires-- you don't even remember what your original hair colour was at this point, though you think you're mostly the same as you were when they change you back... but, enough subtle differences over time can build up...

Not to mention the times you've ended up with tentacles or horns or fangs or a foot long tongue, genitals of every configuration, or been transformed into slime and used just for their pleasure, or, more humiliatingly, been used in some test or experiment, or used to get spell ingredients

You would leave, you think, even if it didn't usually feel so good you lose control of yourself, but you didn't realise how binding a mage's "friendship bracelets" were when you first accepted it when you became friends, and now even if you do go anywhere, they can summon you back without trouble

They just conjure you some souvenir or some kind of 'treat' if you complain, and you feel your cheeks flush with the patronising nature of it. None of your complaints are ever taken seriously

Sometimes they'll summon a demon or other creature either for information or for some task, and you've ended up being used as payment or to placate them. You start drooling and going weak at the knees whenever you smell succubus milk or incubus cum from the amount of times you've been exposed to it already-- you're honestly worried it'll become an addiction before too long...

The one time you tried to sabotage one of your friends spells, hoping they'd get a taste of their own medicine, and while at first it was satisfying seeing their look of panic when the magic went awry, it didn't last long...

When you looked at their spell book and saw they were trying to create an armour spell as strong as dragon scales, you figured out just what your interference had caused, watching those glistening sapphire scales spread along their growing, shifting limbs, long claws growing in, a tail stretching out behind them, horns and wings starting to form

Unfortunately, your friend was still conscious enough to realise it was you that had caused the issue, and they had no qualms about 'punishing' you for it

Increasingly they grew larger and stronger than you, long maw full of sharp fangs and a wicked tongue grinning as they pinned you down under one paw. The tongue that shoved itself inside you was larger than some of the cocks you'd taken before, making you squeal and writhe, body shaking when the edge of claws sent little trickles of blood down your thighs and sides. They pressed you down harder into the floor, growling like a thunderstorm and started fucking their tongue into you. Suddenly, their haunches were over your face, their serpentine body much more flexible and longer than their human one, and your eyes widened at the sight of the cock hanging heavy and flushed, pushing past the split of scales between their legs

Even trying to keep your mouth closed didn't save you, your draconic friend simply smothering you with their cock until you were forced to take a breath, and after letting you get a little air, they took the opportunity to ram their cock straight down your throat. You can't fight back at all as they fill you from both ends, feeling like a toy being hollowed out

Their cock is covered in ridges and the slick confines of your throat drag against them in a way that, from what you can still manage to piece together due to the lack of consistent air, must feel good. They even get their tail wrapped around your throat, making your watering eyes roll up as they tighten their hold

You pass out, of course

Thankfully, they must have pulled out before the lack of air completely did you in (though you have no way to tell, perhaps they could still cast necromantic magic in dragon form?) but you come to in fits and starts, finally piecing enough of yourself together when you're being held in both of their front paws, your hole stretched and leaking around their cock as they bounce you up and down its length

From the way your belly sloshes, and how sticky your legs are (not to mention the rest of you, you assume), you can guess they've already cum in you a few times while you were out cold

When the draconic mage finally finishes with you, you're left slumped over, face half laying in a puddle of cum and you don't think you'll ever not smell like it or if you'll ever taste anything else again. You don't know if you can even talk any more from having your throat so thoroughly fucked. Not to mention if your holes will recover after being stretched out and absolutely ruined on that massive dragon cock...

Of course, leaving them a dragon doesn't seem like a good idea for anyone. Once you get enough energy and brain cells to rub together, and manage to clean up a bit, you get herded over to their spell book. They eventually nudge you and manage to gesture, growl, and, at times, roughly manipulate you, until you can brew a potion to change them back

Once they're back on two legs? 'Well, that was fun, wasn't it?'

#nsft fantasy #nsft concept #tf kink #unethical mage #monster fucker #objectification kink

[elderstrolls]

Top 2 Things A Silencer Shouldn't Say To Someone They Worked With Once Five Years Ago

#Finally playing through Blackwood and it's just too much. Done the 1st quest so far. #The writing is not as terrible as the forums claimed but the way things are handled is just baffling. #Why tf would the Vestige tell ANYONE about being a member of the DB? #There's no choice but to out yourself? But you can (Lie) in a housing intro quest? #Not to mention that I (and others) did the DB and TG questline for the Perks but don't really acknowledge it as canon for our characters. #And what if someone's character just‚ idk‚ fucking quit the DB. DB->Daedric War is a tasty redemption arc btw. #We had a whole chapter about vampires and not a single NPC breathed a word about my Vestige being a vampire. #Also: Eveli's character development who? She was a promising character at the end of Orsinium‚ if a bit annoying. #Now she's just annoying. She deserved better. And she's ok with the Vestige being an assassin? Sure‚ Jan! #Not to mention the Mysterium Fucking Xarxes messing with her (something she states several times in the first quest!) #The Vestige can't even suggest to get it checked out at the Mages Guild? #DESPITE BEING IN THE MAGES GUILD‚ WHICH TAKES YOU THROUGH A QUESTLINE WHERE SHEOGORATH FUCKS WITH VALASTE THROUGH you guessed it BOOKS! #''Weird dreams after hanging out with a book? Huh‚ sounds like someone else I know!'' #This lich rally punishes players for paying attention. It's torture and gamer abuse. Unethical. ''Who's Azura?'' part 3458793. #Another thing to add to the pile of things is how the Vestige says ''Hey the DB doesn't really do the Black Hand thing without a reason'' #And right after that the Vestige gets sidetracked with the DB anyway. #Idk man. It makes keeping my cringe rp journal difficult. I had to rewrite half of the quest for it to make sense for Tel. #I omitted Eveli completely and I have to say that a semi-competent Vestige feels much better. #''The Councilor has been murdered!'' real shit? I thought she was just /playdead. #At least they have Elam in the gameplay padding part of the questline. I will take this bribe. #ESO #TES #:elderposts

[magilv]

🧍‍♂️<- me realizing that i might end up revamping some of the blogcanon because ive never played thru awakening with alim so things might end up happening differently than i have them in the keep tapestry & that. might butterfly effect into things

#ruhroh #i mean im already rewriting a few inquisition things like w the mages n the wardens so like. oops #ooc. time to get real into unethical science !

[its-your-mind]

Say what you wanna about the legacy of vox machina across exandria, but fucking NOBODY is haunting the narrative like Percival “I made the world’s first gun (with help from a demon (and then the idea was taken and copied by an unethical scientist who sold the plans and spread the invention worldwide, leading to artillery-based warfare))” Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski “my family’s estate is the sole-exporter of an extremely rare substance with untold magic-enhancing power (and when control of our home was taken from us by force that powerful substance made it into the hands of dangerously unethical magic users determined to use it to increase their own considerable magical power (and also to experiment on young and impressionable mages to attempt to increase their power artificially))” de Rolo III

#critical role #vox machina #percy de rolo #the mighty nein #c2 Spoilers #cr2 spoilers #orthax #percival fredrickstein von musel klossowski de rolo iii #residuum #c1 spoilers #cr1 spoilers

[ms0milk]

𝟔 | 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐨𝐛𝐚

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"You dread what would have happened if His Highness accompanied you here. You dread what you would have to do to this crowd to keep them from touching him."

cw bkg 🫱🏽‍🫲🏼 unethical rescue tactics, reader is a bit scantily clad (thin nightgown) and someone has big feelings abt it. temporary sense of claustrophobia, descriptions of a very crowded room. i love aizawa i love uraraka i love kirishima i love poor deku i hope you enjoy this protective fluff. 4.1k

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Uraraka Ochako is functioning on four hours of sleep and a few well timed snacks. She’s led morning stretches for the first-shift guards, floated smithing equipment to the forge, freed a bird from the clocktower, and worked Sero’s horrible tape off the back of a fireproof Alderan cloak.

Since midnight it’s been nothing but Alderans pilling up in the courtyard. Every time staff thought they’d collected the last of them, two more would tumble through the gates– one fell from the fucking sky. Captain Hawks deployed from the garrisons at the sight of a flare and dropped Kirishima on castle grounds, crispy, an hour later.

Uraraka has made her morning rounds four times over and polished her cuisses to thinning. She helped Miss Nemuri battle the Alderan Prince to bed and found furs for singed Kirishima. Even off-duty she’s still in her greaves and chausses because without weight on her legs she’d get so distracted she might simply float away. She couldn’t sleep. Not when there was one person missing all night. Until half an hour ago, everyone from the forest fire was accounted for except for Master Aizawa.

When she enters the throne room ahead of you, he’s standing beside the queen no worse for his usual wear. There are a menacing amount of people squeezed inside and the wall of open windows does nothing to make the crowd less oppressive. Off-shift guards, generals, military personnel, butlers, even the kitchen staff are spriting from one corner of the room to the other to try and provide the unexpected guests with appropriate refreshments. You look pale when Uraraka checks behind her, and you feel cold in her hand.

“Y/n?”

You nod, but don’t quite look at her. You’re busy peering out at the seagulls flying past and stumbling on your nightgown hem, like crossing the threshold of the throne room stripped you of all the coordination you displayed just minutes ago. The hodgepodge of royal advisors have squeezed into this modest room for an emergency meeting, but they’re shouting and squabbling like a group of children loud enough to deafen horses at the edge of town. They’re here because of the flame mage.

Uraraka stops trying to navigate through the crowd and turns to you, “Are you feeling sick?”

“I’m alright.”

Do you realize you’re whispering? Or that you answered too quickly?

She pulls your hand a bit and steps even closer, “Is it like last night– like the poison?”

One voice cannot be heard over another, one face cannot be seen for long before moving behind a chest or shoulder or otherwise being walked in front of. Uraraka realizes it was silly to take you from the hospital directly to the queen, even if you were requested. She should have objected. To be fair to herself, she didn’t anticipate the chaos.

A gentleman trips on the corner of a rug and causes enough of a fuss around the pair of you that you’re being bumped by guests from all angles. You look agitated.

“Do you need a chair?”

“Just tell me what your queen needs from me.”

The sound of your heartbeat shouldn’t be so loud in your ears considering the long hum of hundreds of voices around you. You realize you’re staring at the floor and when you look back up, Uraraka stands just inches away with a grounding hold on your hand. She's warm too, like Kirishima. Too warm, she’s too close to you and her hold is too tight.

There’s a bit of movement in the space beside your head and taking a second to focus, Uraraka spies a shock of green hair bumbling through the throng towards her. She knows this particular friend will not be a huge help in this particular moment but what she doesn’t anticipate is your light footwork the second he breaks through the crowd. Poor Deku. He would have been okay if he hadn’t steadied himself on your shoulder after wrestling free of the crowd.

“Hey Och–!”

With eyes still unfocused and balance still off, you kick a foot between his legs, take solid hold of his hand, and then he’s flying– fully airborne– over the back of your head and onto the marble floor. Uraraka barley pushes a pair of diplomats behind her fast enough to keep his red boot from knocking out any teeth. A hush ripples immediately through the crowd.

“Deku you can’t just grab people!”

The short young man gapes up at you from the spot where you have him pinned to the floor. Freckles and nervous eyes, a slight smile, he whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper back immediately.

“That’s enough!” Another voice, a tired voice, breaks through the mortifying silence and kick-starts the chaos again. You release your hold on the boy who is quick to pick himself up and bow his head, but people are moving, generals or ordering, waitstaff are fussing, all around you again. You don’t have Uraraka’s hand to hold. The boy could be apologizing, his mouth is moving for sure, Uraraka is gone– you’re trying to excuse yourself to a young woman whose foot you’ve tread, but she’s replaced by an old man in blue cloaks, then he’s replaced by a spindly child with a silver horderve tray and it’s becoming terribly difficult to stay afloat.

“Y/n,” The tired voice becomes clear again. You raise your head and Aizawa is standing in front of you, borne from the crowd pushing past. He takes another step forward and it’s so much easier to concentrate on his dark coat in the colorful chaos.

He doesn’t seem to be burned, or maimed, or...ghost-like, and he is not phased by the swarms of expensively dressed men shouldering past the pair of you. You don’t know where the boy or Uraraka went and you haven’t introduced yourself to the queen who must be in here s–

“Y/n.”

“Yes, sir.” You snap back to attention.

Aizawa’s caught your eyes wandering to the windows again and when he says your name it’s low and clear, “May I?” You nod. He pinches the collar of your nightgown with his long fingers and clasps the silver neckline closed with a brooch.

“You’re in the throne room. How do you feel?”

“Well, sir.”

“You were injured last night, do you feel any side effects?”

“I’m–I feel fuzzy.”

Panic subsides with nothing to focus on but the man in front of you. He stands close and works slowly. When your eyes are no longer pounding with your pulse you take a glimpse of his handiwork at your chest and melt a little at the shining dragontooth below your collarbone. White and unburnt, heavy and familiar. Aizawa rests his hand over your chest when he finishes his adjustments and your heartbeat slows considerably under the pressure. No one bumps into you anymore.

“You were very brave last night Y/n, thank you.”

You think you thank him in response but you’re having a difficult time taking your eyes off his hand where that pressure keeps your lungs from overflowing with panic. You close them instead.

“You’re in the throne room, are you meant to be here?”

“Yes sir.”

“You don’t like tight spaces do you?”

“I’m alright, sir.”

“It helps to focus on one thing in a situation like this.” He lifts from your dragontooth and replaces the warmth with two hands on either shoulder. Briefly, he glances over your head to the crowd undulating, not daring to crash into the black guard, before tipping his head back down to you,

“What are your orders? You should be in bed.”

The presence of the crowd beyond their clicking howling and clinking is only in the absence of fresh air to breathe. The overwhelming chaos of the room is subdued now, dull save for seagull cries and Master Aizawa watches on patiently like he knows that he’s the reason for your peace.

How many orders had you received this week? You blink a few times as you remember and become fully aware of the tragedy of your mission; Queen Mitsuki’s letter to Her Majesty Todoroki, one of the only two things you were tasked with protecting, is ash in a forest miles away.

“I– have no orders. I was requested for an audience.”

“Unhand me!”

Aizawa’s hand at your shoulders becomes a grip when new noise vibrates from a far corner of the room. 

“– if you don’t–!”

A horrible tide overcomes the crowd, slowly at first, then the pull of a thousand eyes, heads and legs towards the sound of the commotion. Exactly what you always dread, the sea of people begins to churn and it is never the threat of the crowd that chills you but what a crowd can do to itself.

The voice turns into many which turns into shouting over the single note of chatter. They’re fighting, someone has started a fight in the throne room and you haven’t even managed to catch a glimpse of the queen or her mighty entourage yet so the room must be vast and the crowd must be plenty and there is a much higher chance than you’re comfortable with, of stampede.

The old guard doesn’t have time to be gentle with you when he pulls away, “Can you manage the crowd?”

“Yes sir.”

And you both understand that this is an order, not a question, not a concern.

“Shinsou!” He calls over your head before diving into the thrawl, “Help our Alderan control this traffic.”

As Aizawa disappears into the swell, the relief of Shinsou’s name floods. Every member of your party had been recovered from last night’s fire. You swivel, hoping to catch sight of the young guard coming your way before you begin to help the Takoban staff herd these guests like Aizawa instructed, but instead of Shinsou there are a pair of wide redrimmed eyes standing much too close.

“You’re the Alderan guard?”

Heads turn.

When a great gaggle of creatures come together, it is the sheepdog’s job to gather them. When a dragon takes up residence in a castle it’s mistaken for a jewel rich cave, it is an Alderan’s job to come and relocate them.

“I heard him say it,” the person presses closer, “you’re a member of the Alderan party.”

Sometimes though it is a sheep’s job to wreak as much havoc as possible. The crowd, still generally flowing toward the tussle at the front of the room, has decided that you too are interesting.

“Have you spoken to the queen?” Is the first of many things you hear when a wall of well dressed backs becomes a ring of eager faces.

“Where is your–”

“–does Aldera have–”

As you attempt to find footing suitable for a military member of your standing, a stiff breeze reminds you that you’re not wearing anything more than a cotton nightgown. There’s no sword at your hip, no medals at your chest past Jeanist’s heirloom dragontooth, and only a flimsy ribbon holding back your braid.

“– can you– will this affect the–”

“–was quick!”

“How hot–”

The Takoban King must truly love war for his council to be so large, and for the people in it to be so joyous in their involvement. Flies on corpses.

More and more people break away from the forward flow of the crowd as they realize who you are and not one of them thinks to give you breathing space. You become the room’s second center of gravity. Where the hell is Shinsou?

“I will answer–” you attempt and then spin to apologize to a man you’ve bumped into, “– your questions– I will–”

What is causing this fuss? One bandit in the woods? Alderan company? Are these the manners of Takoba?

Your breath sticks to your throat in the questioning swarm while they push you deeper through them– like you’ve been swallowed by a great snake. You can’t embarrass your country by using force on royal advisors but the constriction of your arms against your side makes it difficult not to raise your voice.

“Where is your party?”

“Who is– charge–”

“You’ve brought danger!”

“Where is your prince?”

Your prince. You dread what would have happened if His Highness and friends accompanied you here. You dread what you would have to do to this crowd to keep them from touching him.

“Excuse me,” you duck as you murmur lukewarm apologies in escape. You must find Shinsou.

A short woman in tails is at your eye-level like this and she begins a barrage of questions about Alderan foreign policy when you error eye contact. One foot in front of the next only introduces you to a new polished nobel and either their disdain or their cross examination. Pushing forward isn’t working. What happened to the vast throne room? Why does it shrink when you move through it?

Your clothes are too tight– your skin is too tight and the hair brushing the back of your neck will surely kill you. You jerk an arm when a brave soul grabs hold of your bicep and force your shoulder stiff in its socket to stop yourself from striking. Their voices melt into itching static, you feel their mosquito bites in the goosebumps of your flesh.

“Where–”

How will you help to manage this crowd when you can’t even walk through it? You don’t want to be alone anymore, this– you, you won’t remember how to get back now.

“You’re a soldier?”

“– and how many–”

“Alderan! Were there weapons or onl–”

A firecracker pop screams in the open air above all of you and you’re gasping when your hearing comes back, long enough to focus on the whistle and crack of a shot in the chamber. One more keeps the static from filling your ears again, and steals the attention of the generals not yet bored by your silence.

“Move,” detonates as a voice off the walls.

Bodies roll past you, through you, to continue their questions without getting crushed by the parting crowds. They can’t yet see the person attached to the voice or the reason for the parting, but you know the owner of the sparks that splash across the blue-green ceiling, and you would follow them forever and a day.

Prince Bakugou, in all his milk golden glory steps through the swarm like a threat.

Generals that swallow you whole don’t approach him and you itch to be closer, but the questions don’t subside just because a new Alderan guest has appeared and in fact they seize on the opportunity to ask you for an introduction.

Your heartbeat is just the ringing of a dented bell, over, and over again and you feel its pulse in your jaw when you open your mouth to speak. No words come out now– now that your arms are trapped at your side and you’ll never be free of this–

“Oi!”

The bell rings louder.

“What–you! Off of her!”

And the person taking their turn to interrogate you is flung forcefully from frame, along with the waitstaff they grab in a panic and take to the ground. And he’s right there, the prince standing directly before you, a vast clearing behind him, growling and billowing smoke. His red eyes aren’t gentle but they pierce your soul with warm homesick.

Having tossed aside the only things between you, other advisors trip over themselves to escape the prince’s course. Some even try to hide behind you. Gold crackles in his palms as he watches you hurriedly catch your breath– why is he here? He’s close enough to touch again and he’s cleared a path to you like the room was empty.

“Highness,” you bow your head and rush to blink the last of the shock from your eyes.

The prince grits his teeth. The veins in his jaw splinter his sculpted cheeks, “You–” he growls. The crowds swell behind him in both size and volume and then flinch when he jerks back around, “– you dare treat an Alderan like your entertainment! Filthy fucking searats–” an explosion from each hand punctuates his rage. 

You flinch. Your eyes flood at the sudden noise and your proximity to it, though something more exhausted than tears, and you realize you may be the one in need of a doctor out of the pair of you.

“C’mere,” the prince locks eyes with an unfortunately close diplomat and snatches their furred collar to many cries and general protest from the fleeing crowd, “You think it’s funny eh? To pull a member of my party from the hospital and ambush her in her bedclothes?” The man sheds a few tears of his own as the prince shakes him. 

On the first day of winter the queen and her son Dance Peruro with their citizens. Paint their faces with pomegranate wine and strip off their furs to the waist, and then open the caste gates to let townsfolk pour in for feasts and holiday songs. You are always terribly anxious on the sidelines with Jeanist while trying to follow the crowd’s skipping and yowling to make sure that the queen is safe. The king watches his family from the sidelines too, but much less anxiously and mostly with hands full of food.

In the dance, wild limbs fly like fist fight and there is always, always shouting. Screaming thanks to the heavens while leaping round a great bonfire to singsong horns and strings. The Dance Peruro is destructive and it’s beautiful to watch two pairs of red eyes full of joy, dance together in the crowd that loves them.

Bakugou looks elated in this scene, red eyes slits and filled with excitement. Gold twinkles in his ears. He finally gets to flex his magic even if it is inside another kingdom’s throne room and practiced on another kingdom’s citizens, but how on Earth you’re going to apologize to the Takoban queen– to master Aizawa– you have no idea.

The prince raises his captive off their feet and hurls them into the crowd hard enough to knock a few sturdy generals to the ground. His arms threaten to tear from the confines of his silky white shirt in his passion. With his back turned you still know exactly the expression he’s making and you’re just relieved that he’s safe. It doesn’t cross your mind to detain him.

“Gimme those pretty coats or I’ll skin them off you.”

Just about everyone within earshot either scrambles backwards or starts to strip their outer layers in confusion. An old man in fine blue robes flees through the clearing at the exact time that the masses start to shuffle and thrum against one another, but Bakugou snatches him by the back of the neck and releases a hellstorm of orange and pink strong enough to eject the man from his capes and clear across the room.

“Classic Takoba hospitality, huh? You parade all your guests around in their underwear?”

With the space created by your prince’s rage, the full glory of the throne room becomes clear. In the empty circle around the pair of you the fine white rugs shine like spotlights. They’re stitched with blue emblems– blue flames– that climb across the floor, from stone to window, elven door to throne. The throne.

Most of the crowd has rushed to the entrance in escape, no doubt trapping Aizawa with their terrible fuss, and so the crystalline space all the way at the back of the room is open. And it is where the queen sits in her sea glass throne. Dozens of silver suited guards surround the base of her throne’s raised platform to protect her from your prince’s squalor, Shinsou and Uraraka among them– the freckled boy too. 

It’s a struggle not to shout for help. Or rush to her side, for the queen’s fragility lights up every protective instinct, every resuscitative urge in your body; surely she is drowning and you are appalled momentarily, that no one feels it important to save her life.

Icy white skin reflects the light of the afternoon sun and her eyes are dark and sallow. They might even be closed but you’re not close enough to see. You should be closer, she needs someone to keep her from tumbling to the floor like a limply sewn doll. Long light hair trickles over her shoulders to the point where her skirts meet her bodice like a shoreline. She is made of lace. Lace instead of flesh and seems too cold and stiff to survive another moment without proximity to a fireplace. Her Majesty sits with her hands in her lap and does not react to the chaos.

Behind you, your prince is a shark in a school of fish. Royal advisors at the back of the line to flee, panic earnestly now and guards at the edge of the room rim the onlookers, unsure of whether they’re permitted– or able– to subdue this royal guest. But the prince doesn’t snatch anymore lords and instead turns to you as candy sweet smoke rises to the ceiling now that no one is as interested in bothering Alderans as they are in finding something else, deep inside the castle, to busy themself with.

He’s still grinning when he swings around, but you’re not fooled, not even by his concern. You anticipate the scowl before his grin falls because you know that hates to look at you.

If your bad habit is eye contact you fear the prince’s may be aversion. 

“Cover yourself,” he grumbles and thrusts the old man’s blue robes into your chest but he doesn’t let go quite fast enough. He holds both you and the stolen clothes there like someone who has something more to say, so you blink up to him. Your white nightgown whips around your calves.

Prince Bakugou was poured from molten gold. He doesn’t look at you but he doesn’t storm away, he doesn’t leave the clearing that he’s made for the two of you and you think he’s trying to say something when his gaze finally flickers from the space above your head to someplace below your dragontooth. 

You can tell he’s holding back something calloused and loud by the way he bites hard at his lip. Instead he growls low in the space between you, “Return to your room at once.” And then barks for Kirishima.

“Coming!” The kind voice replies, echoing somehow in every direction. From your spot in the center of the room you can just barely make out red hair and a raised arm milling through the last fifty or so people trying to squeeze through the silver doors and out into the safety of the castle entryway. The Champion is much more polite than his prince and winds his hulking body gracefully through the throng before finally stumbling into the clearing. The prince doesn’t have any trouble looking at Kirishima.

“Take her back– get back upstairs, the lot of you. I don’t wanna hear a single Alderan peep for the rest of the day.”

This feels hypocritical, but Kirishima just smiles like a bowl of bread dough and takes up the open space by your side when the prince begins marching to the back of the room.

Anticipating your concern the Champion leans down to explain, “He has a formal audience with the queen.” 

It’s too far to see clearly, but the Queen of Takoba hasn’t seemed to move a single inch in the past few minutes. How is Bakugou going to speak with a ghost?

Kirishima gestures to the piles of rumpled clothes at your feet that the prince threatened off of people in the crowd, “And it looks like you have your pick of fine coats, Y/n.” The smile of his voice keeps you from speculating for too long. You know it’s time to go.

The sweet giant takes the cloak from your arms as he guides you back into the depths of the castle, and you note the gentle way he secures it around your shoulders without touching you at all, “Where is Aizawa?” you ask while nodding your thanks.

“Oh he's taking a long drink in the kitchens.”

With the Champion at your side, you give the throne one more glance over your shoulder before stepping through the silver doors, but at this distance you can only distinguish Shinsou and his blue windswept tunic from the crowd of guards and your prince. You raise your hand beside your head in parting and the apprentice slips his own out from where he’s standing formal and so, so far away, with his hands behind his back. You smile.

While you and Kirishima puzzle your way back through the castle, off in the distances beyond great columns and disgruntled chilly diplomats, through the windy, salty, seashell castle, a blue light quivers in the dark.

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tagged angels ✧.* @nnubee @cherrykamado @jctaro @nonomesupposedtoo @zombiewarprincesss @kotarouspropertyy @strawberry-mentos69 @sveetnn @eirlysian @lunrai @km747474 @arayoflia @annoyingleftpinky @noomaisdone @cr33pycrawlerr @iced-chai-tea-latte @cathwritestragediesnotsins @tragicallygray @idimmadontgiveashit @kooromin @k1tk4tkatsukii @litiri @kiwibao @kiwifujin @mmmaackerel @sarcasticlittlebook @condy-wants-a-cookie @mysticalfridge @dududubebo @falling4fandoms @katanaski @babitchsuki @romiinlove @cherripunch26 @acid-rain27 @madmayo @@bakugouswh0r3

please let me know if you'd like to be removed from the taglist at any point

#eeheheeehee i love protective violence #and robbery #a hymn to black water #can you tell how sick of editing i was by the end #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha fantasy au #mha fantasy au #fantasy bakugou #fantasy bakugo #aizawa shota #shinsou hitoshi #uraraka ochako #kirishima eijirou #oh boy im redesigning my tag system and i am a woman exhausted by all this organization

[whereserpentswalk]

You recently purchased a pet ghoul. He's so sweet and gentle. He's made from a human corpse yeah but there's no human soul in there, the Necromancer made him into something new. He's like a cute little animal, he has fluffy hair and flowery tattoos left from the human body. He loves headpats and raw meat, he's like a little cat that way, his eyes even glow in the night just like a creature. Isn't this so fun, you put him in a little tuxedo. He mumbles sometimes, you think he's calling the names of people the body knew it life, it doesn't matter though. This is so normal and ethical. Nothing the mage council allows for is ever unethical. Some people are uncomfortable but that's just them not being open minded as to how the modern world works. You're a normal and ethical person. This is fine. This is so fine.

#196 #my thougts #worldbuilding #fantasy #writing #my worldbuilding #my writing #urban fantasy #horror #body horror #ghoul #zombies #zombie #undead #necromancy #necromancer #creatures #short fiction #short story #flash fiction

[illarian-rambling]

Unethical spells that didn't make the cut for my mages' enchantment roster:

Ignite glucose

Flesh to carbon

Dispel ocean

Greater glue trap

Dark teleportation

Spells that did make the cut:

Haste (applied to cell death only)

Carbon to flesh(ish)

Induce seizure

#writing #writerscommunity #writblr #my ocs #author

[sasquach-scratches]

M'aza/Aza-jo

He/Him Khajiit 27

Favored Skills: Illusion, Conjuration, Speechcraft

Other Skills: Destruction, Sneak, Lockpicking

A rather odd and detached Khajiit, even for others of his kind. Once the son of a wealthy merchant and crime lord of the city of Corinth, he was less interested in his father's business as he was with the various magical relics that passed through his father's hands. It was no surprise that he'd grow to become a mage instead of a merchant.

Over time his experiments became more and more unethical to the point where even with the pull of his father, he was cast out of Pelletine and was forced to relocate to Cyrodiil. After several years studying in the College of Whispers, he was once again on the lamb and absconded to Hammerfell, where he studied esoteric magic under the mages of Azra's Crossing.

He put his neglected skills as a trader to use to survive so far from home, but his business in selling relics taken from Ra'Gada tombs eventually got him in trouble with the law. Having maintained connections among the Bandaari since his exile, he was whisked away by Ri'saad's caravan into Skyrim. With nowhere else to run, he made for the College of Winterhold at the far edge of the province.

Unfotunately, he would once again find trouble after barely setting foot in the province. The experience crushed him enough that he was unwilling to continue on even if he had a chance to escape. But when the impossible happened, continue he did.

I wasn't gonna do a reference for his outfit since it's heavily based on the Wayfarer Coat mod but why not

Like a lot of my early TES characters, Aza-jo originated as something other than an OC...for TES. But I'll get into that down the line.

It was a little hard deciding what information to give on what is meant to be like, his introductory post for people that haven't been on my blog for a while but I just decided follow the example of my slightly-less-developed Oblivion OCs. Also my Skyrim characters will have more than one post because of...reasons.

#elder scrolls #skyrim #khajiit #my characters #my art #i put off working on this one so long i decided to just post it when it was finished rather than sitting on it #writing these out made me realize that i use a lot of compound sentences lol #im not much of a writer so

[meoproject]

Sketchy vignette comic I did to test out some ideas. I'm not happy how wordy this ended up being! Originally there was even more but I condensed and cut some stuff away, and it's still a lot. I could've reworked this more, maybe add a few more panels or more breathing room, but I decided I don't wanna stress out too much. I'd rather have something to post than not, and I already settled on making a sketchy scene instead of anything polished. 

I wanted to post this as one long strip but the file size ended up being. A bit too much. 

Anyway, this is a scene that happens, like, quite a bit after the opening scene I posted some time ago. Here, they're already more familiar with each other, and have developed... a dynamic. But they get along! They both like wearing black and hate sleeves! (actually they do have a surprising amount of things they could connect over.)

I also made a fun little 3d view for Beriith's horns (here: https://vincered.net/beriith-horn-reference/) and I gotta say, it was good. I ended up cheating w/ the perspective for a more interesting silhouette, but having a reference for the base perspective helped out a lot. If you have characters with annoying horns, I highly recommend getting 3d ref set up. 

Crumbs of context for the hungry:  - Beriith is a demon. Val summoned him. It was an accident; she meant to summon a hellhound to accompany her on her lil journey. She ended up summoning Beriith instead, which is kinda awesome and bad because summoning "semi-human" creatures is thought to be almost impossible and also unethical.  - Beriith is literally stuck with her. As in, he physically cannot move past a certain distance away from her. It's a side effect of the summoning spell; if he was a hellhound, it would be fine, but because he's, uh, a person, it's kinda awkward. Finding out a way to undo it is one of their goals

FAQ: 

- Are kisses hard to draw? Yea. Especially when one character has as big a nose as Beriith does. 

- What's with the reaction? Is he not into it? CONSENT?! He's super into it, actually, which is the problem. Due the circumstances of them meeting (see previous post, or find my previous comic about them) he's been trying to be a good boy for once (he is not above flirting with his employers lmao what's professionalism) and Val caught him off-guard and he's incredibly upset about it because he didn't expect to be caught off-guard. 

- What's next? They pretend it never happened and never talk about it again. Val finds her aunt, they unbind Beriith, he leaves for his home country and they never see again and Val becomes an arch mage.  Yeah. Let's go with that.

#art #comic #long strip #long post #ramblings #project:a fantasy setting #original character

[prettyboykatsuki]

is it so awkward that they reject him or he only satisfies himself ?

its difficult to explain but its more like. his whole thing is he can’t land a single proper contract. one and dones are fine for hunger but gojo is a powerful magic user and he needs a lot of fuel but no one enters any actual contracts with him

its only an inkling of a concept but i want to keep gojos gojo-ness. so hes still technically an incredibly powerful incubus and magic user and has historically been able to get by with hook ups.

but being an incubus is all about contracts, permanent ones and he hasn’t managed to land a meaningful one in centuries. he makes do with substitutes and alternatives but its not the real thing

and then he meets you and has a whole plan about seducing you and in a terrible turn of events you’re the one who seduces him. im thinking like human mage who gives him a deeply unethical contract.

#return to sender #ITS VERY HALLOWEENY #itd be bottom or sub gojo #was maybe thinking writing it as stsg

[soldier-poet-king]

@roccondil asked about my pf character based on this art and ofc I will take any excuse to talk about ocs at the slightest prompting, but beneath the cut because I know it'll be rambly (of course it will be, I'M the one writing it and I write on this site in the same long-winded excitable manner I speak. There's GOTTA be tangents, I cannot stay on a single thought)

OKAY SO apologies in advance this is long + turns a little personal abt my own feelings on romance at the end

I won't go into the whole campaign plot bc that would take forever, but it's a pathfinder 2e campaign in a homebrew setting. The game takes place in a wintry country near the northern pole, it is an elven nation and largely made up of magic users, everyone is lowkey snooty and Very Serious, except on the politically&religiously approved festivals when shit gets wild. The basic premise is heavy on the political intrigue and assassinations.

My character - Periklea Alkmeonidae - is a wizard grad student, essentially. She's an elf, but only 74, so by societal standards quite young, and is in many respects a 'young scrappy hungry' upstart. She's not nobility, but from a decently well respected family of scholars, her brother Alkibiades is several decades older, always showing her up, and some sort of up and coming politician.

Periklea attended the Fancy Wizard University in the capital and specialized in illusion magic (utility caster for an intrigue themed campaign!) and her research is in the magic & gods of the previous age [there was a world shattering calamity, stuff happened with the gods, etc etc, this was way way way way before the campaign, she's basically a magic archaeologist]. After her time at the academy she became apprenticed to one of the top mages in the country - Lyrian - however, Lyrian is a bit of a bitch. She's selfish, and ruthless, and is a little cutthroat and perhaps unethical in her attempts to gain political & academic power. That's fine, because that suited Periklea perfectly - she is also less scrupulous in her attempts to gain academic prestige and renown. She's not /evil/ just true-neutral selfish and has a one-track mind on her own ambitions. She also has a raven familiar named Diomedes but that's not relevant to the romance.

When the campaign starts, Periklea's been sent to work with a senate member trying to reform the fucked up govt in the country, not because she has good intentions, but because Lyrian told her to + it'll help her gain hard to get research access to a restricted site if she has the favour of some high-ranking politicians. This is how the whole party gets involved with each other, except most of them are good-aligned to some degree or another.

A whole political assassination plot (possibly involving an evil Alkmeonidae ancestor??) happens, and I'll spare you all the details, but in the course of trying to solve this mystery (and for Periklea to further her own aims) she attempts to make connections with a prominent senator, Count Vyllsen. She's never met the count before, for all her ambition, she's a /scholar/ not a politician, and despite having a decent charisma score, she's absolutely awkward when it comes to manoeuvring outside of academia - she can handle the academic manipulations with ease, but non-academics?? Yikes.

So to get in with Vyllsen she calls on an acquaintance of hers from her academy days - Illdaria. Illdaria is a 'wizard-jock' - pathfinder's magus class - where Periklea is a vanilla wizard nerd, Illdaria specialized in magus training. They were classmates, but Periklea never really considered her a 'friend', an acquaintance and a colleague at most, however, she kept contact with Illdaria because she could be useful politically - Illdaria is Vyllsen's niece, and has connections to the nobles of the neighbouring empire - her half-brother is the emperor and her father a duke, but due to her nebulous heritage this is kept somewhat on the down-low.

As one can imagine, Periklea had no qualms about using Illdaria's friendship to arrange a meeting with Vyllsen. Illdaria finds out the truth, is DEEPLY upset, and Periklea has to deal with feeling guilty - it's her first emotion in nearly a decade - Rose's character Katya is appalled to find out Periklea's only emotion is usually ambition.

The party keeps running into Illdaria throughout the campaign, because she's part of a significant noble family that's plot-relevant and every time Periklea is like....oh God The Guilt. At one point she decides she's going to try to do something /good/ and /selfless/ for once, and in her research she finds a bunch of stuff related to Illdaria's family history + Illdaria's area of research - Periklea gives this to her as an apology and makes it clear that it's a gift with no strings attached, she's not looking for any political gain from this gift. She also offers some of her research notes & to commit library crimes by breaking in to the restricted section together. It's a very stilted awkward apology, and Illdaria (rightly) is like....hm maybe you should try to be a better person 'you really ought to think... do you REALLY want to be like Lyrian? Is that what you REALLY want in life?'... Periklea has an existential crisis upon realizing that Illdaria has genuinely considered her a friend THIS WHOLE TIME. And perhaps even sadder, Illdaria is the closest thing Periklea HAS to a friend, she just never realized it til now.

Tons more plot stuff happens, at one point they have to go to a masquerade to try to gather intel on a related govt conspiracy + they're also now doubling as vigilantes at night. ANYWAY at the ball, Rose, out of character, suggests Periklea go talk and dance with Illdaria since she's been really trying to be a better person and Periklea isn't great at the political schmoozing anyway. I think to myself, sure why not, and so I do.

Now, at the beginning of the campaign, I thought it would be funny to take a voluntary penalty to strength, I'm a utility caster, surely how often will I ever need athletics as a skill. WELL..... in trying to get across the crowded ballroom, my extremely awkward wizard trips and falls flat on her face and loses her glasses, cue a Velma from Scooby-Doo type situation, except lo and behold who scoops up Periklea's glasses and comes to her rescue? Why of course her dashing wizard-knight, Illdaria. They have their little meet-cute (even though they've known each other for years) and they talk and have a heart to heart. Periklea fumbles both the dancing and talking - trying to be genuine and truthful for once does NOT come easily - but apparently it's charming enough for Illdaria, who likes this new, earnest Periklea.

I /FRAN/ am not a smooth person, and a terrible flirt because I mean everything So Much and have no emotional restraint, but I managed one real smooth line about how we can sneak Illdaria away from her overbearing uncle because I'm an illusion wizard, clearly offering spell slots is a sign of love. To paraphrase Rose about the GM (her fiance), 'he's a Straight Man but very good at playing charming lesbian npcs'. (Apparently this has happened in previous campaigns lmao)

It is all VERY sweet and VERY Top Tier Romance To Me. I didn't go into the campaign with any notions of Periklea's romantic inclinations* so this kinda just crept up on both me AND her**, but it's SO SOFT??? Like peak romance is hand holding, awkward blustering flirting, exchanging wizard notes, and going to the festival. They have a festival date which will SURELY be interrupted by plot-relevant murder attempts, but like.....THE ROMANCE OF IT ALL. Wizard romance for the win.

Like. Maybe I'm Just Realizing Things About Myself, but I crave that romantic intimacy with the intensity of a thousand suns, but not really the carnal aspects? Don't get me wrong, I would like that, but it's a lesser concern, only one sun intensity, and besides there's the whole Catholic Guilt thing and my aversion to physically having children bc of various mental things. PURE ROMANCE on the other hand??? The tenderness of it all??? THE TRUST AND FORGIVENESS ??? THE COMMITMENT AND SOFTNESS AND TENDER TOUCH?? I am maybe obsessed with lavender marriages and romantic friendships and qprs and all other hard-to-define relationships for said reason. I'm insane about die in my arms mutual lifelong devotion <- to no one's surprise says the person who is literally always blogging about yearning and devotion. Greatest desire of my heart!! Maybe!!!

As a teen I was never the 'lying in bed with my feet kicked up doodling hearts in a notebook' type, but now, aged 27, in all ways except physical, I am absolutely doing that while thinking about these two. Deadass I added some heart doodles to my campaign notes for last session.

*Sebastian, my broken cleric from a Stahd campaign, had a very clearly defined bisexuality from the start. He was in a horrible awful space after betraying his previous party and becoming trapped in Barovia, and so he spent a LOT of years pre-campaign being an alcoholic and charlatan prelate and sleeping around - both for self-loathing guilt induced reasons, and because a little coin and a warm bed goes a long way in Barovia. I knew from the start I wanted him to have some sort of a recovery arc, and so when Strahd kept trying to trick Seb into betraying the party AGAIN and becoming one of his spawn-brides & Escher kept appearing and there were clear parallels between Seb and Escher....from there it was an easy jump to romance. I DID NOT plan the same for Periklea. Though I suppose if Seb was a manifestation of my depression, Periklea is my anxieties, and they're being handled differently by this co-creative narrative venture.

** Ironically, 'it crept up on me' is exactly me, aged 18, being like 'wow girls are cool too and I guess I'm bisexual???' I was suchhhhh a late bloomer and had had only a few crushes on guys, and only ever if we were friends, in highschool so it was like, oh okay this is just what it's like. Get to university, am studying abroad, have really small class sizes, have a few classes with this cool af girl, we spend a lot of our class travel time on long bus & train rides talking about lotr and medieval history and all sorts of things. And it was like an /oh/ moment of I could just curl up and lean on your shoulder and keep talking like this forever and hold hands and maybe sometimes kiss gently and that would be the happiest thing in my life. Also she had streaks of blue hair. And pronouns. Ofc.

#vilestraia campaign #periklea tag #long post #I RLLY HOPE THAT READ MORE WORKED AJFDSKFHSAKLJD #anyway pls come talk to me about my disaster wizard i love her so much

[oc-smashorpass]

this is leiko mimori, she's a 65 year old

'retired' spymistress. the proud mother of two different legendary warriors and a dangerous woman in her own right, leiko is a talented mage and martial artist, known for her highly successful reign as spymistress for a government called the lantern bearers.

however, she left the lantern bearers after her mask, a symbol of her station, was shattered and part of it fused to her face by a mage from a rival polity, who intended to shame leiko for her role in the bearers' occasionally unethical practices-they're pretty golden by the standards of earth, but they're still not exactly squeaky clean. taking it to heart, she 'retired'

really, she just returned to the commune she'd grown up in, taking up a comfy de-facto leadership position while secretly re-establishing and expanding her own spy network, so that she could watch over the two factions her children fight for and continue pulling the strings. she's a sweet, smug, sly and wise lady. the chunk of mask left fused to her face lets her essentially tf2 spy disguise, but like if spy's disguise sucked less

oc by anon !

#polls #original

[probablyfunrpgideas]

Campaign Idea

An old-school quest taking you from level 1 to 20 and beyond.

A true challenge for GM and players alike, where the GM gets to interpret the various dungeons, traps, and spells presented and the players get to test their creativity and luck against truly unethical magic - but perhaps they can turn it against the foes they face.

In Against The Wizards, you are called to save the realm from a council of mages whose dastardly lairs and spells can be found described on Wizard Tumblr. Their loose alliance has held so far, but hopefully your heroes can disrupt the balance of power and get them fighting against each other. How many wizards can you slay before they turn your bones to liquid or bring your memories to life and make them eat you?

#tabletop rpgs #idea #d&d #d&d 5e #pathfinder #d&d 3.5

[magilv]

i've said as much before but alim does believe the circles of magi are necessary. perhaps not with quite the level of strictness that some circles employ, & he does believe the rite of tranquility goes too far, but he's aware that mages are fundamentally dangerous, especially so the untrained ones. he would know, he killed three men the first time he used magic, entirely incidentally. & whatever else, in the circle all mages are equal, whether human or elf, born to nobility or in the gutters, all with equal opportunity to improve their lot through diligence & just the right amount of ass-kissing.

#which leads into why he endorses vivienne as divine; who else to understand how circles & the mage-templar balance should be reformed #than a circle mage with experience in political gymnastics #nothing like talking w/ anders to get you thinkin abt what ur muse thinks abt mages & templars #ooc. time to get real into unethical science !

[bigchump1994]

WW1 is probably as close as humanity will ever get to like. A war between wizards. In the worst way imaginable, mind. I see joke posts on here about wizards practicing their most fucked up and unethical spells possible in a wartime setting and that's literally what WW1 was about. You're a student mage in the trenches, basic wand loaded with level 1 fireball that's basically useless in this trench warfare environment. Some dude named George Livens hauls up The Thrungler, and it fucking does this

60 foot long, 20 foot tall wall of pure flame. And that's on your side. It's completely useless btw the other wizards use a meteorite summon spell to blow up 2 of the 4 of these ever made.

[chromee23]

GREENPEAK MAGE KEEP

This lavish mansion is owned by a powerful but reclusive wizard Greenpeak, named after the foliage-covered mountainside he hails from. He is well known for both unique architectural design and his rare but extravagant parties. He has a multitude of both clockwork and human servants that travel the halls performing menial tasks and serving as guards. The lower halls of the keep are beautiful, but as the mansion rises to the heavens the structure becomes wondrous, magical, and at points difficult to traverse for anyone but the wizard and his servants. All the doors are expensive wood with the strength of metal, and all the windows are stained glass with the strength of thick wood.

The mage sat on an influential council of benevolent mages that must pledge an ancient and binding oath to never perform unethical or unsavory practices anywhere in the world. This did not stop the wizard though- he found a loophole in the wording of the pact and created demiplanes and pocket dimensions for his myriad of experiments. He hides the access points throughout his home, many of which reside on the upper floors.

1 FRONT DOOR the road to the keep winds up the side of a tall mountain, then bridges a gap over to wrap around a small spire jutting from the mountainside, before spanning a long gap to finally reach the arched 20 ft high double doors of the building itself.  There is a permanent rune of alarm that will alert anyone in the guard post (room 2) if anyone approaches using the road. The bridge 5-35 feet is pair of magical stone drawbridges that the guards can and usually do raise if trouble approaches, unless the lord of the mansion is hosting a party.

2 GUARD POST This pair of towers sit on either side of the main entrance 15 feet from the road and can survey the surrounding mountainside and inspect visitors at the doors, which are magically sealed unless the guards open them. There are 1 foot wide arrow slits on all outward facing sides of the tower (one could leap to the tower and squeeze through the slits if the door is sealed, but it would be difficult.) Both guard posts have controls that raise the drawbridges, open the door, and send an alarm through the castle in case powerful enemy forces are coming to attack. Usually there are 6 guards at each post, with at least 1 human with enchanted gear to man the controls and automatons to guard them. There are stairs up to the next floor to access battlements, murder holes into the foyer, and the guard’s quarters. There are also stairs down to the castles private dungeons.

3 FOYER AND STABLES The vestibule past the double doors is always staffed by at least 4 automatons that will take overcoats to the coat room, horses and wagons to the stables, and clean off anyone dirtied by the journey if necessary. There are locked doors to the guard posts on either side, so guards can bring suspicious people in and apprehend them.

4 ENTRY HALL AND MAIN STAIRWELL This large 45 foot tall room spans 2 stories and has a wide double staircase to the second and third floors. There are beautiful carpets on the floors and tapestries on every wall, the latter of which depict the owner of the home performing acts of magic and heroism throughout the realm. The south walls have 4 stands of exquisite enchanted armor that are actually inert automatons that only animate when commanded by a guard or the owner of the home; They will also attack any non-staff individual if the alarm has been raised.

5 KITCHENS The large kitchen is staffed around the clock by either 1 or 2 human head chefs and up to 6 automatons under their command. With full staff they can feed 40 people. The kitchens have a steep staircase under a trapdoor that leads to the pantry and cellar, and a staff’s stairwell in an adjoining room that leads to staff quarters. None of the staff here are combatants and will flee to alert other guards.

6 DINING HALL This long hall can seat 20 people and has large windows that can see the beautiful mountainside. The armor here conceals clockwork automatons that function identically to those in the entry hall. The corridor that surrounds this room is patrolled by 4 clockwork guards that will join any combat in the surrounding rooms. The balcony is covered and the doors to which are locked unless the owner is hosting people.

7 BALLROOM This extravagant hall can comfortably fit 60 individuals, though its rare that more than 40 people are invited to the mansion. The floor is tiled with beautiful marble and the walls are lined with ornate banners with intricate gold-lined designs. There are tables in 3 of the corners of the room for dining. The 3 suits of armor function identically to those in the entry hall. The doors to the balcony are locked unless the owner is hosting people.

#dnd #d&d #pathfinder #dungeon23 #dungeons and dragons