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_0_SS_EXILE
_1_BOUND
_2_MORA
_3_OCULUS
_4_CAGE
_0_SS_VESTIGE

Scene 1 : prologue, Great War

The Great War was a brutal conflict between the human Empire and the elven Aldmeri Dominion. It lasted for years and left the continent of Tamriel fractured and exhausted. Many lives were lost, and the world was left in ruins.

Eventually, the human Empire realized they could not win. They surrendered to the Elves and signed a peace treaty called the White-Gold Concordat. For the Empire, it was a humiliating deal that forced them to accept the Dominion's demands to stop the fighting.

One of the most hated parts of the treaty was the condemn on Talos worship. The Empire was forced to outlaw the religion and allow elven inquisitors to hunt down anyone who still prayed to Him.

To the Nords of Skyrim, Talos was once a man named Tiber Septim. They believed he had ascended to godhood after uniting the continent. He was the ultimate symbol of human achievement and the protector of their land.

The Elves saw it differently. They believed only Elves could be divine. To them, the idea of a human becoming a god was a disgusting lie. They banned his worship because they felt it tainted the universe and challenged their own status as superior beings.

Scene 2 : prologue, Thalmor

The Thalmor, the ruling elite of the Aldmeri Dominion, arrived in Skyrim as inquisitors. Their job was to make sure the ban on Talos worship was strictly enforced. They moved through the provinces with total authority, hunting down anyone who disagreed with their laws.

The Thalmor began a campaign of terror across the land. They burned down defiant villages and attacked anyone who stood in their way. This included the Orc tribes living in the strongholds. The Elves demanded total submission, and when the Orcs refused to bow to these new lords, the Thalmor responded with fire and steel.

Not everyone stayed silent. Groups of Skyrim warriors began to retaliate against the Thalmor's brutality, forming small armies to push back. During one of these clashes, a Thalmor unit attacked an Orc tribe, leading to a violent slaughter.

Balgruuf, an influential commander at the time, arrived with his soldiers to aid the Orcs. His army successfully wiped out the Thalmor unit, but they were too late to save the settlement. The stronghold was burned to the ground, and most of the tribe had been killed in the fighting.

While searching through the ruins and smoke, Balgruuf found a single survivor, a baby Orc. Despite the tensions between races, Balgruuf decided to take the child in. He adopted the boy, raised him within a Nord environment, and named him Torvak.

Scene 3 : prologue, Torvak

Balgruuf raised Torvak like a true son of Skyrim. He taught the young Orc to believe in Talos and trained him to be a disciplined soldier. Over the years, Torvak grew into a powerful warrior, mastering the art of combat through hard work and loyalty.

Today, Balgruuf is the Jarl of Whiterun, and Torvak has become one of his most skilled fighters. He is currently on the path to becoming a Housecarl, a high-ranking protector. But despite his rank and his service to the city, Torvak's life is far from easy.

Everywhere he goes, Torvak faces constant hatred from the people of Whiterun. Many Nords are insulted by the sight of an Orc wearing an amulet of Talos. They believe that a "beast" has no right to worship their god. It isn't uncommon for people to shout at him in the streets, telling him that an Orc will never be allowed into Sovngarde, the Nord afterlife.

At the same time, Torvak is hated by his own race. Whenever he encounters other Orcs, they look at him with disgust. They see him as a traitor who has abandoned Orcish traditions to follow a human god. To them, he is nothing more than a puppet for the Nords.

Even though he is a master at combat and a loyal warrior, Torvak feels completely alone. He lives in a world where the Nords reject him and the Orcs despise him. No matter how hard he fights or how much he believes, he feels like he has no true home.

Scene 4 : Thought in the snow

After a long day of clearing out a camp of stubborn bandits, Torvak found a spot to rest inside an abandoned stone ruin. He sat near a wide opening in the wall, watching the snow fall softly against the daylight. His muscles ached from the fight, and he pulled a small stamina potion, sipping the bitter liquid to help his body recover.

Physically, Torvak could handle almost any battle. He was faster and stronger than most men he faced, but the constant insults from the Nords were starting to take a different kind of toll. The idea that Sovngarde was only for Nords played over and over in his head. This nagging doubt had even started to affect his performance, a few times during the bandit raid, he had lost his focus, nearly letting a rusted blade slip past his guard.

He tried to push the negativity away by remembering what Balgruuf had taught him. His father always insisted that Talos valued the spirit of a warrior more than the color of their skin or the shape of their teeth. Balgruuf promised that if Torvak lived with honor and died in a brave, honorable fight, the gates of Sovngarde would open for him just like any other hero. Torvak wanted to believe it with all his heart, but as the wind whistled through the ruins, the doubt remained.

Scene 5 : Librarian

Torvak traveled to the frozen north, reaching the College of Winterhold. He entered the Arcanaeum, the massive library filled with thousands of books. The air was cool and smelled of old paper. He walked up to the heavy desk where Urag gro-Shub, the master librarian, was busy sorting through a stack of ancient scrolls. Torvak kept his head low, trying to be as respectful as possible.

Torvak: "Master Urag, I apologize for the intrusion. I have come seeking a specific kind of knowledge. I want to know more about Sovngarde."

Urag: "You and every other Nord with a sword. What makes you think I have time for stories about the afterlife?"

Torvak: "It is not just a story to me. The Nords say my soul is heavy with the ashpit of Malacath. They say the Hall of Valor has no place for a green-skin, even one who bleeds for Talos. I need to know if there is a book that explains who truly belongs there."

Urag slammed a massive, leather bound book onto the table. The sound echoed through the silent library like a thunder.

Urag: "So, you want a guest list for the afterlife? Is that it? Look around you, boy. I have books on the birth of the universe, histories from the Merethic Era, and scrolls that would burn your eyes out if you read them wrong. Your question isn't about knowledge. It’s about faith. If you want someone to hold your hand and tell you you're special, go find a priest. You are wasting my time."

Torvak: "Please, Urag. The priests only repeat the same lines. I need answers. Something written."

Urag: "Listen to me. No one comes back from Sovngarde to write a travel guide. If you want a map to the afterlife, go visit a tomb and ask the dead. At least they won’t complain about the draft."

Urag let out a frustrated huff, but his eyes stayed sharp as he looked at Torvak.

Urag: "If you want the truth, the pure truth that hasn't been twisted by biased priests or Elven liars, you are looking for secrets at the level of the Oghma Infinium. That is the kind of knowledge kept by the Demon of Knowledge himself, hidden in the rotting stacks of the library in Apocrypha."

Torvak’s eyes widened. He had never heard of such a thing.

Torvak: "The Demon of Knowledge? There is a place that keeps those secrets?"

Urag immediately looked like he regretted speaking.

Urag: "Forget I said anything. Hermaeus Mora does not give answers, he gives obsessions. The price for that forbidden knowledge is your sanity. It is better to be a 'traitor' to your kind than a mindless puppet in Apocrypha. Now, drop it."

Torvak: "I can't drop it. How do I find him? How do I reach this Hermaeus Mora?"

Urag’s face turned red with anger. He pointed a thick finger toward the exit.

Urag: "Get out! I won't have you bringing that Daedric filth into my library! Leave at once before I have the mages blast you across the bridge!"

Torvak bowed his head with formal respect, realizing he had pushed too far.

Torvak: "I am sorry for bothering you, Master Urag. Thank you for your time."

Torvak turned and walked away, his mind racing with the name of the demon and the promise of a truth that no one else could give him.

Scene 6 : Hermaeus Mora

Torvak trudged through the foggy marshlands south of Winterhold, his heavy boots sinking into the wet mud with every step. The cold wind tugged at his fur cloak, but his mind was far from the chill. He kept replaying Urag’s words in his head. Forbidden knowledge. Hermaeus Mora. The idea of turning to a Daedric Prince for answers about Sovngarde made his stomach twist.

He believed in Talos with everything he had. The god had watched over him since Balgruuf pulled him from the ruins when he was a baby. But the doubts gnawed at him harder every day. What if his orc blood really did bar him from the Nordic halls of the dead? What if all his honor and all his battles meant nothing because of the color of his skin?

Torvak shook his head. No. He wasn’t worshiping Mora. He was just borrowing the knowledge, like picking up a sword from a blacksmith. Talos would understand. He had to.

The ground beneath his feet suddenly softened more than usual. Torvak frowned and looked down. A wide circle of black, shiny goo had formed right under him, bubbling slowly like thick tar. It wasn’t mud. It pulsed.

“What in Oblivion”

He tried to yank his boot free, but the goo only sucked harder, pulling him down inch by inch. Panic shot through him. He twisted, grabbing at a nearby rock, but his fingers slipped on the slick surface.

Two thick tentacles of the same black goo rose from the pit. They wrapped around his leg and arms, firm and warm, holding him in place. More tentacles followed, sliding up his thighs and across his chest, pinning his arms to his sides. The touch was smooth, almost gentle, but impossible to break.

A low, echoing voice rolled across the marsh like distant thunder mixed with whispers.

Mysterious entity: “I have been watching you, little orc, ever since you stepped foot in that dusty college. Such a troubled soul. So many questions burning inside that strong chest of yours. And I know exactly what you seek.”

Torvak’s heart hammered against the tentacle across his ribs. He strained against the hold, muscles bulging, but the goo only tightened with a wet, slick sound.

Torvak: “Who are you? Show yourself!”

The voice chuckled, soft and amused, coming from everywhere at once.

A shape began to rise from the pit in front of him. The black goo gathered and stretched upward into a massive, muscular form, broad shoulders, thick arms, a powerful gleaming chest. One huge glowing yellow eye stared at him from the center of its head, unblinking and bright.

Oculus: “I am not quite the Prince you hoped for. But I serve him well. You may call me Oculus. I am his eyes… and sometimes his hands.”

Torvak stared, breath coming fast. The tentacles around his arms flexed, almost caressing the hard lines of his biceps.

Torvak: “Hermaeus Mora… you work for him? You know about Sovngarde? About whether an orc like me can…”

Oculus: “Oh yes. My master’s library holds every secret in the universe. Every afterlife. Every truth the gods try to hide. Including the one that haunts your dreams.”

Torvak’s eyes widened. Hope and fear crashed together inside him.

Torvak: “Then tell me. Please. I need to know if Talos will let me in. I’ve fought for him my whole life. I can’t… I can’t keep wondering if it’s all for nothing.”

Oculus tilted his head, the yellow eye narrowing with clear amusement. The tentacles around Torvak’s waist slid lower, tracing the edge of his belt.

Oculus: “Knowledge like that always has a price, warrior. Are you truly ready to pay it?”

Torvak swallowed hard. His voice came out rough and desperate.

Torvak: “Anything. I’ll give anything. Just tell me the truth.”

A deep, rumbling laugh rolled out of Oculus. The single eye glowed brighter, almost hungry.

Oculus: “How delightfully desperate you are. Very well.”

Before Torvak could say another word, a new tentacle emerged. It hooked under the straps of his armor and ripped the leather and steel away in one smooth tug. The cold air hit his bare green skin as the pieces clattered into the mud. Another thick tentacle wrapped around his bare chest, sliding over his pecs and nipples with a slick, warm pressure. More tentacles coiled around his thighs and hips, holding him tight.

Torvak gasped, muscles tensing under the strange, intimate grip.

The goo beneath him opened wider, pulling him downward. Oculus stepped closer, towering over him, that glowing eye locked on Torvak’s face.

Oculus: “Then let us begin, my desperate little orc. Apocrypha awaits.”

The tentacles dragged Torvak down into the black pit. The marsh vanished, replaced by swirling green mist and endless shelves of books as he sank into the realm of Hermaeus Mora.

Scene 7 : Price

Torvak’s eyes snapped open. He was lying on a slick, shifting platform that felt like warm, living flesh. All around him stretched a vast ocean of black goo, slowly rippling under a sickly green sky. Massive tentacles drifted in the distance like lazy serpents. Behind him rose a towering castle made of strange stone and bookshelves that floated in mid-air, endless rows of tomes stretching into the mist.

Torvak pushed himself up on his elbows. His armor was gone. Every inch of his muscular green body glistened with thin streaks of the black goo, making his body shine wet. The only thing still on him was the silver Amulet of Talos resting against his collarbone.

Torvak: “What… where am I?”

A deep, rumbling chuckle echoed through the air. Oculus rose from the goo right in front of him, his massive body towering over the orc. The single glowing yellow eye stared down with clear interest.

Oculus: “Welcome to Apocrypha, my eager warrior. You look even better without all that heavy steel weighing you down.”

The tentacles around them swayed closer, one brushing slowly along the back of Torvak’s thigh. Oculus’s eye moved up and down, drinking in the sight of the naked orc’s desperate expression.

Oculus: “The price for the knowledge you crave is simple. Knowledge for knowledge. You must give my master something he does not already possess.”

Torvak: “What could I possibly know that a Daedric Prince doesn’t?”

Oculus tilted his head. The yellow eye narrowed as if peering straight into Torvak’s mind. His grip on the orc’s shoulders tightened, thick fingers digging into hard muscle. A low hum of satisfaction rolled out of him.

Oculus: “Ah… adopted son of Jarl Balgruuf. Loyal warrior of Whiterun. And quite close with… the Dragonborn…?”

Torvak’s eyes widened. He tried to pull back, but Oculus’s hands held him like iron.

Torvak: “How do you…”

Oculus: “Do you know the Dragonborn well? Tell me everything. His weaknesses. His habits. Where he might be right now.”

The tentacles around Torvak’s legs slid higher, wrapping snugly around his thick thighs and brushing teasingly against his inner legs. Oculus leaned in closer, his gooey chest almost touching Torvak’s.

Oculus: “My master has been searching for him for a long time. He wants the Dragonborn the same way he once claimed Miraak, body, soul, and all. Enslaved and obedient. The library here lacks one vital piece, the full details of the coming apocalypse. The Dragonborn is the one prophesied to face the World-Eater and stop it. If he falls… well, the end comes. And Mora’s collection grows richer with every secret that spills out.”

Torvak froze, heart pounding hard in his chest. Shock hit him like a hammer.

Torvak: “The Dragonborn… is supposed to save the world? No. I won’t tell you anything. He’s my friend. He’s fought beside me. I won’t betray him, not even for answers about Sovngarde!”

Torvak struggled against Oculus’s grip, muscles flexing under the slick black hands.

Torvak: “Send me back. The deal is off. I don’t want any part of this!”

Oculus’s single eye darkened, the yellow glow turning a deep, angry amber. The playful tone vanished completely. His voice dropped into a cold, grim rumble that made the air feel heavier.

Oculus: “You do not get to walk away so easily, little orc. If you will not give me the information willingly… I will simply take it by force. And I have many ways of making you talk.”

Scene 8 : Trial

Oculus raised his hand. Several smaller demonic creatures rose from the goo, twisted, scuttling things with claws and fangs. They lunged at Torvak all at once.

Torvak roared and met them head-on. Even without his sword, he was a blur of raw power. He grabbed the creature by the head and smashed it into the ground, then spun and kicked another so hard it flew into the ocean of goo. Another creature tried to claw his back, but he caught its arm, twisted, and snapped it in half. In less than a minute, all the minions were broken and melting back into the black sludge.

Torvak: “Is that all you’ve got? Come on then. Fight me yourself!”

Oculus watched quietly, his eye glowing brighter. He studied every flex of Torvak’s body, every heavy breath.

Oculus: “A true warrior… but so untouched in other ways. How interesting.”

Oculus suddenly grew even larger, muscles swelling thicker and taller until he towered over the orc. In one smooth motion, Oculus grabbed Torvak around the waist and lifted him clean off the ground, pressing the orc’s back against his chest. Strong hands seized Torvak’s thick thighs and spread them wide apart. Torvak's arms sank elbow-deep into Oculus’s gooey body, immobilizing him.

Torvak: “Let me down! Aargh… Face me like a warrior!”

Oculus: “Fighting will not break a warrior like you. But this… this will.”

A thick, heavy cock began to form between Oculus’s legs, long and thick, glistening with the same black goo. It pressed right against Torvak’s exposed hole, then pushed forward in one firm thrust.

Torvak screamed, his whole body tensing.

Torvak: “Stop! Ah…. Fuck…. stop it!”

Oculus laughed, low and dark, as he sank deeper inside the tight heat.

Oculus: “This is only the beginning, my desperate orc. You have so little experience with pleasure. I will use every bit of it to crack that stubborn mind open and pull out everything you know about the Dragonborn.”

Torvak gritted his teeth, trying to fight the stretch and the overwhelming fullness.

Torvak: “I won’t… tell you… anything…”

Oculus didn’t stop. He started thrusting, slow at first, then harder, his massive cock sliding deep into Torvak’s ass again and again. The wet, slick sounds echoed through the misty realm. Each thrust made Torvak’s strong body jolt, his cock twitching against his own abs despite himself.

After several deep, powerful strokes, Oculus growled and buried himself to the hilt. Thick, hot cum flooded into Torvak in heavy spurts. Torvak’s belly swelled visibly, bulging out from the sheer amount pumping inside him. The pressure rose up his throat and he gagged, eyes watering.

Before he could spit any out, a thick tentacle shoved between his lips, sealing his mouth shut.

Oculus: “Swallow it all down. This is just the start. I will keep breaking you until you beg to tell me what I want.”

Satisfied for now, Oculus pulled out slowly, Cum leaked from Torvak’s stretched hole. As Oculus lowered the exhausted orc. A cage of dark stone and writhing tentacles formed around him, locking him in place on a small platform floating above the gooey sea.

Oculus: “Another trial awaits very soon. And next time, I will push you even further.”

Oculus sank back into the black ocean, leaving Torvak alone in the cell, body aching, belly still full, and mind racing.

Scene 9 : Regret

Torvak sat inside the cage, knees drawn up, back against the cold stone. The black goo around him pulsed slowly, never still. His body ached everywhere, especially deep inside where Oculus had used him again and again. Thick streaks of dried cum still clung to his thighs and abs. Yet the Amulet of Talos still hung heavy and cool against his chest.

He took a slow, deep breath and wrapped one big hand around the amulet. His fingers shook slightly.

Torvak: “I should have listened to Urag… I’m such a fool.”

Memories of traveling with the Dragonborn flashed through his mind, fighting side by side through dragon attacks, sharing mead by campfires, the Dragonborn’s strong laugh echoing in the mountains. Torvak’s voice dropped to a rough whisper.

Torvak: “I wish… I wish you were here, Dragonborn. I’m sorry for what I did to you… I’m willing to endure this pain. I won’t spill anything about you to this demon. This is how I atone for my mistake.”

He closed his eyes tight, gripping the amulet harder, repeating the words like a prayer.

Scene 10 : Imprisoned

Several days had passed in Apocrypha. Torvak had grown noticeably weaker. His once powerful muscles looked a little less full, his green skin duller, covered in sweat and leftover streaks of black goo and cum. Every time he tried to stand, his legs trembled. Still, he refused to break. He kept the Amulet of Talos, whispering quiet prayers to Talos for strength and a way out.

Torvak: “Talos will light the way… He always has. I won’t trade the Dragonborn’s life for answers. Not even for Sovngarde.”

The cage suddenly rattled. The tentacles unwound with a wet slithering sound. Oculus rose from the gooey sea, his massive body looking tense and impatient. The single yellow eye burned with clear frustration as he stepped onto the platform.

Oculus grabbed Torvak, lifting the weakened orc clean off the ground like he weighed nothing. He slammed Torvak’s back against the stone wall of the cell, holding him there.

Oculus: “Your stubbornness is becoming tiresome, little orc. I have been patient. I have broken your body in every way I know. Yet you still refuse to speak.”

Torvak gritted his teeth, breathing hard, but his eyes stayed defiant.

Oculus leaned in closer, his gooey face inches from Torvak’s. His voice dropped into a low, dangerous growl.

Oculus: “This is the last trial. It will decide whether you leave this realm with the answers you crave… or whether I break you completely.”

Scene 11 : Vessel

Torvak hung limply over Oculus’s broad shoulder, his weakened body bouncing slightly with every step.
Oculus stopped at the heart of the tentacle forest. With a wet sound, he pulled open the front of his own gooey chest like a door. Inside was a hollow chamber lined with smaller wiggling tentacles and a thick cock standing straight up in the middle, already dripping.

Torvak’s eyes widened.

Torvak: “No… don’t…”

Oculus ignored him. He lifted the weakened orc and pushed him inside the chamber. Torvak’s thick legs sank into Oculus’s gooey legs, merging with them. His arms disappeared up to the shoulders. Warm tentacles immediately wrapped around his waist, chest, and neck, holding him tight against the inner walls. The thick cock in the center pressed up and slid deep into Torvak’s ass in one smooth push.

Torvak groaned, body shuddering, but he still tried to fight.

Torvak: “Get… out of me… I won’t break…”

Oculus: “It seems impossible to pull the information from you like this. Talos truly protects your stubborn spirit. How annoying.”

Torvak let out a weak, mocking laugh even as his hole clenched around the invading cock.

Torvak: “Good. Stay annoyed, demon. You’ll never get what you want from me.”

Oculus’s yellow eye narrowed.

Oculus: “Then there is no other way. I cannot take your memories… so I will erase them instead. I will hollow you out and shape you into a perfect empty vessel for my lord. Another loyal agent for Hermaeus Mora.”

Two thin tentacles slipped into Torvak’s ears. A strange warmth flooded his head. His eyes began to glow with faint yellow light. His resistance melted away little by little. The pain and fear faded, replaced by hot, dizzying pleasure.

Torvak: “Ah… fuck… it feels…”

His voice grew breathy. His hips started moving on their own, pushing back against the thick cock inside him.

Torvak: “More… give me more…”

Oculus chuckled, clearly amused.

Oculus: “That’s it. Look at you begging already.”

More tentacles joined in. One latched onto each of Torvak’s nipples, sucking hard and tugging. Another thin, slick tentacle pushed into the slit of his cock, sliding deep inside. The pleasure crashed over him like waves. Torvak moaned loudly, body trembling between the tentacles.

Torvak cock throbbed hard. With a broken cry, he came, shooting thick ropes of cum that the tentacle inside him greedily sucked down.

At the same time, Oculus growled and thrust up hard. Hot cum flooded Torvak’s insides again, pumping so much that his belly bulged outward noticeably once more.

Oculus: “Good vessel… very good.”

Oculus sounded satisfied, yet a hint of defeat lingered in his voice.

Oculus: “I could not get the Dragonborn’s secrets in the end. But at least I can offer my lord a strong new agent.”

Oculus pushed Torvak deeper into his chest chamber. The gooey walls closed around the orc completely, sealing him inside the massive black body. Torvak’s consciousness faded fast.

Thick layers of goo covered every inch of Torvak muscular form. A small glowing yellow eyes slowly formed on his chest.

He was unconscious now, helpless, fully submerged.

The last faint thought floated through his fading mind before everything went dark.

Talos…. Dragonborn… please help me…

========================================================================
LEXICON

Skyrim: A rugged, frozen province in the north of the continent of Tamriel. It is a land of massive mountains, ancient ruins, and harsh tundras, known for its fierce cold.

Aldmeri Dominion: A powerful and arrogant empire led by the High Elves (Thalmor). They believe they are superior to all other races and have banned the worship of certain human gods, acting as the primary political villains who pull the strings behind the scenes.

Nord: The native human race of Skyrim. They are tall, hardy warriors with a high resistance to the cold. They value honor, family, and tradition, and their culture is centered on the worship of Talos, a mortal hero who they believe ascended to become a god.

Sovngarde: The Nord version of "Heaven." It is a majestic afterlife located in the stars, reserved for those who die bravely in battle. In its "Hall of Valor," heroes spend eternity in an endless cycle of feasting, drinking mead, and testing their strength in honorable wrestling and combat. It is widely believed that only Nords are worthy of entering.

Orc (Orsimer): Green-skinned race known for being the greatest blacksmiths and toughest warriors in the world. In Skyrim, they usually live in secluded, walled strongholds, separate from other cities. They follow the "Code of Malacath," a harsh set of rules that values strength and forbids things like theft or murder. To a traditional Orc, life is about struggle, and a "good death" is one earned in combat before old age makes you weak.

Jarl: A powerful noble who rules over one of the major cities and territories of Skyrim. While the title is often passed down through bloodlines, a strong military leader or a commander who proves their worth in battle can be appointed as Jarl. They act as both the judge and the ultimate authority of their land.

Housecarl: A prestigious title given to an elite, personal bodyguard of a Jarl. Being a Housecarl is a deep matter of honor, they are more than just soldiers, they are the "shield" of their leader, sworn to protect them with their lives and carry their burdens.

Dragonborn: A legendary figure born with the body of a mortal but the soul of a dragon. Prophecy claims they are the only ones capable of truly killing dragons and stopping the "World-Eater" from bringing about the end of time. They can "Speak" in the language of dragons to unleash powerful magic through their breath.

Daedric Prince: Ancient, god-like entities that rule over their own dimensions of reality. They are neither "good" nor "evil" in the human sense, but are often dangerous, chaotic, and manipulative. They frequently meddle in mortal affairs to strike bargains, often offering great power or forbidden knowledge in exchange for a person's soul or sanity.

这得开多大的画布啊，精度高得吓人

Base +6

最近e站打开画廊，查看不了图片，家人们有什么头绪吗

Base +6