one mire time

Magic RPG Idea

You have five dice; D4, D6, D8, D10, D12

Assign each to a color of magic. Whenever you do something using that color of magic you roll the die you assigned to it

The baseline you need for a success is 4 with – anything less than that and you may still succeed but not with the ideal results

So for example I wanna summon a Grizzly Bear but I’m real bad with green mana. I roll a 2 on my D4. Maybe I summon a weak Grizzly Bear that’s basically a 1/1 (not that this RPG uses stats like that probably). Maybe it’s a sort of illusion and vanishes when attacked. Maybe it turns on me. Maybe I just straight up summon some other green animal instead

You have five dice to assign to mundane skills as well. Stuff like longsword, athletics, first aid, guitar, etc. They work like the above except they govern doing stuff that isn’t magical. Probably anything outside of that stuff you roll a D4 on

Having advantage means you roll a die of the next unit up (for advantage on a D12 you add 2 to your roll). Disadvantage means you roll the next die down from what you would normally (and disadvantage on a D4 means subtracting 2 from the roll). So for example advantage on a D4 means rolling a D6. Disadvantage on a D10 means rolling a D8

BUT not every blue mage is the same. Maybe you’re better with artifacts. Maybe you do counter and control magic. Maybe you summon illusions. You have a specialty (maybe, maybe, two of them). The DM should take this into account when determining the difficulty check for a roll and adjust it lower for something that falls under your specialty

anonymous asked:

What if like one day cas was just sitting there, aching to be tickled and like dean could tell by cas's body language so he just kinda pounces on cas and teases him about it before and while he tickles the poor fallen angel into insanity

I took this into the artist/chef college AU because those dorks like it and know it. (Words: 950)

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Dean barely kept himself from rolling his eyes as Cas yawned at the other end of the couch, a long, pronounced stre-e-etch accompanying it for the third time in less than ten minutes. It made his ribs protrude invitingly, which Cas knew, and Dean knew that Cas knew, and Cas knew that Dean knew that he knew, and all of this added up to Dean wanting to let Cas stew for a while, just to see how far he’d go. The television rambled on, appearing to keep both students’ focus, while in reality providing nothing but background noise.

A moment later, there was a sharp pressure at the side of Dean’s thigh. Cas was flexing his feet, pointing and stretching them under the guise of rolling his ankles, jamming his bare toes into Dean’s leg in the process. Dean glanced down for a few seconds to watch Cas’ toes scrunch and wriggle, putting on a tempting dance for his fingertips. Or maybe his tongue. No, shut up, Cas got to stew. For a good long while. No matter how enticingly sensitive those toes were known to be.

Yawn, stretch again. Cas’ arms stayed up over his head this time as he slipped down to lie more horizontally. His knees popped up to accommodate the position, and the one tipped outward in a lazy sprawl. Dean refused to look at the delectable length of inner thigh exposed by that move. Cas’ skin had to be crawling with want by now. Dean chewed his lip to repress a smirk, and maybe also to remind his hand not to go wandering. He was not going to be played into this.

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