Staff (Wizard) (Lawful Good)

What to expect: the intersection of exploration of the limits of the arcane arts and historical inquiry. A lot of nerdy-ass world building and lore, with some bisexual futa shenanigans.

You peer through the vast array of armaments. You're at least aware of most of them, though a few of the more exotic weapons are new to you. Not that you know what to do with almost any of them. Though your kin in the nation of Stoneheart would be brought up with such things, you lead quite the different life to this point. You grew up on a farm, in the eastern province of the D'arcani Mage Lords. Your experience with weapons rarely went further than chopping down crops to feed your families crop of pigs. The shelf full of books on the other hand, you're much more acquainted with. Accompanying them is a long slender staff, sanded and polished smooth. Affixed with a gemstone, it was a clear sign of a wizard; someone like you.

Marllyn, The lord of your province of Claywaleha believed not only knowledge was power, but that the opportunity for knowledge be granted to all. At first, you would travel for an hour each day to attend mandatory school. When your capacity for learning and intellect surpassed the capacity of the school, you were granted an opportunity to excel in a proper academy. With each new school you showed greater and greater promise, until it was seen by all that you were a natural, if unusual, fit for D'arcan's prestigious magical academies. Against the skepticism of your fellow students and even some of your teachers, you proved your capacity for not only understanding the principles of arcane magic and the capacity to cast spells, but a genuinely intellectual curiosity that could scarcely be sated. Receiving the recommendation from Her Lordship to attend the Wizard Academy in the capital city of Valle Pallara, which she had previously been the presiding Dean of, was the proudest day of your life, second only to your day of graduation.

You take the staff in one hand, and reach for one of the books with the other. You look over the cover, intrigued by the title _"The Invisible Ceiling: Why Our Magical Understanding Apexed In The First Age". Finding a chair that you hadn't seen before, you take a seat and begin looking through it's opening pages, completely unconcerned with the plight facing you. The author makes curious observations, though you are disappointed that despite the proclamation in the title, it doesn't seem that this book will provide any actual answers to the question it posits, instead choosing to mull over hypotheticals for several hundred pages. It's still an intriguing read that pulls you in, making you lose awareness of the world around you.

That is, until you hear your name being shouted.

"Pelips!" You bolt your head up, slamming the book shut in an instant. Embarrassed, you make a sudden look over yourself to see that you're clothed again, in your breathy blue robes. The largest part of your embarassment, your masculine dick, is covered, making you much more reassured, knowing your secret is kept. You're no longer in whatever that armory space was, if that was even real. It quickly fades away like a daydream. You're in an archival office, back in your provincial home. There's a stern woman glaring at you. Slightly older than you, her discomfort extends not only with you, but in her very demeanor. The professional attire she is trying to uphold with a poofy white shirt and long skirt is not made for these warm climates, but she does the best she can

"Yes!" you respond, standing up "Herida Pelips, that's me."

"Follow me..." She says, moving quickly through the halls, seemingly uninterested if you're actually keeping up.