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#blorbo from my ttrpgs
firstofficerrose · 1 year
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I just figured out the background vow for my Ironsworn solo character! I'm so excited!!!
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nireos · 10 months
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hi wheres the tag for my dnd campaign? the one only my friends and i know about?? whhjere can i see the images about it? and the.text posts??
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Flatmate complimented my OC on being cool
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elliottjpg · 1 month
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I have a new child! They just keep happening, HELP-
This is Ginger Sunweaver, my gnome cleric for a Pathfinder campaign I just joined!
She's a happy-go-lucky little gal, whose passions in life are adventure and alcohol. She's a cleric sworn to the service of Cayden Cailean, the "Accidental God", patron of beer, wine, adventure and freedom. Her goals in life are to taste every alcohol in the known world, and to free every imprisoned person/creature/entity she meets.
Her favored weapon is her tankard, which was a gift from the dwarven priest who introduced her to his faith. The runes on it read "Souvenir of Cloudspire". She is more of a healer and support than a fighter, but she will not hesitate to bonk you on the head with her Holy Tankard if you're being a dick.
She has a Shetland pony called Moonshine.
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winterfront1 · 1 year
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Woah my Dark Souls-inspired TTRPG that I've been working on for 2 years at this point just had a big update for its mechanics???? What the heck???? Is that even ALLOWED?????
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blood-bound · 1 year
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I posted this awhile ago but never properly... this is my VtM OC drawn by an artist for free, u/KayimSedar on reddit. Original post here. 
Now that I’m a lil less shy lemme explain him: Mark Vela (was? is?) a Roman History professor who was turned by a Tremere in late 1999 Detroit. His then-boyfriend-now-ghoul-ex spied on him in preparation for his turning - lots of drama there. My poor boy (nor I out of character) knew trying to heal someone with vitae was enough to ghoul them :/ Whoopsie. 
He’s basically Just Some Guy who got turned because his sire needed an unassuming but still basically competent spy on his diehard enemy of hundreds of years. Certainly a safe situation for him, no stress there. He is heavily blood bound to his sire who likes to peek in on what he’s doing randomly. But like its fine, really, blood bounds aren’t so bad especially when his sire is Such A Nice Man (He’s not, he forced the aforementioned enemy to kill his own son but really like its fine.  
He fucked around and Found Out on an early mission and got stuck in a nasty Changeling contract. Many kindred hate him on the basis of his sire alone. One of his former coterie mates defected to the Sabbat, one is in torpor, and one has been kidnapped by the ousted Prince now enemy of the city. To top it all off, things are Super Weird with his ex and he’s in constant danger just by associating with Mark. But you know, he just got territory. What could go wrong? 
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eatenbyfaeries · 1 year
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Happy Calibration @grimmjowjaegerjaquez! I simultaneously went mad and had a ball drawing this beautiful edgy man. Possibly a little more colourfully rendered than he'd like but I just can't help myself.
@shiftingpath tagged for administrative ease :}
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citriarchive · 2 months
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Interrupting my own scrolling to realize how fucking grrrrrawrawrawr it is for absolute beloved asshole doctor nithral baines to have two names—a first and a last (HELL IT'S THREE BECAUSE HE'S NICKNAMED THE SCALPEL BY BARDS)—he didn't choose, only to be given the choice to take a (last) name that has become partially his by way of him choosing it the same way he chose to love the man who gave it to him. i CANNOT believe i only found a way to put my feelings about that interaction into words just now.
the fucking feeling of "i'll offer to let you share my surname if you'd make it more comfortable, but you don't have to" and him choosing to. him getting to choose his name. him choosing to share a name with someone he fucking loves fucking what
this is not even my character even though my character is involved and i am just absolutely fucking bananas fosters bonkers about this shit right now oh my fucking god
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wolf-2099 · 1 year
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having an f/o from a source so specific and obscure that you literally cannot revisit their source to see them and have to wait til the moon phase is right and its Monday
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firstofficerrose · 1 year
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Rolling up totally random characters and then playing them is a wild, wild experience. I randomly generated a College of Spirits Bard (DnD 5e) who got hired to deal with an undead infestation. She was so much fun. I love Katelyn and her -1 intelligence modifier. The Warlock had her convinced he was possessed by a ghost for about five minutes, and the DM had himself on mute the whole time because he was laughing so hard at our nonsense. Vicious Mockery is my new favorite spell.
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yardsards · 11 months
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I do not know who any of the blorbos you repost are or what series they're from but I enjoy them anyway
oh EXCELLENT. i am glad
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A rattling sound wakes Iris in the middle of the night.
Always a light sleeper, habit turned necessity in these trying times, she sits up, summons her sword, and tiptoes to the door of the barracks the party is starting to call "home". Dimly, she's aware that Thread isn't back yet, but she's barely concerned. Thread handles worse things than intruders, and easily at that.
She unlocks the door, and follows the loudest noise, coming from the dilapidated upstairs kitchen. As she creeps closer, her night-vision gives way to her normal sendes - whatever is going on, it's illuminated brightly.
She turns the last corner around the courtyard, and sighs deeply. The kitchen in question is alight with flame, everything from the cupboards to the floor to even the door. She stumps out some lingering gleams in the courtyard, and investigates the damage.
Inside, she can see the source of the noise; Rusty's contraption, some sort of machine to handle liquids, just as metallic as he is, seems to have broken apart. Shards and splinters of the light and bright metal Rusty says is called "Ah-Lumen-Um" or something litter the room, where Rusty and Thread are trying their best to contain the fire, stop it from spreading through the house.
It is times like this that Iris misses the twins, and their magic of creation. They would just summon water to douse the flames. But the twins are gone, they can't help her now. So is Revelation. Good riddance. And Raegor. Reliable Raegor, recovering, somewhere in the North.
She sighs again. "I beg your pardon," she interrupts Rusty and Thread's busy cleanup, "did we not agree to perform suspicious and or loud activities in the caves?"
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monstercollection · 1 year
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The thing I’ve discovered while GMing my first game is that you have the supreme, unquestionable ability to fill your campaign with whatever peak bullshit you’re currently on.
If I want to make an Ishmael expy named Jonah Bartleby and deliver lore about leviathans in the format of excerpts from a semi-comprehensible and dubiously accurate book he is compiling, no one can stop me!
If I want to make a quest giver who is a blatant Queequeg expy (who is of course married to Jonah and happily retired with him to a cottage on a tropical beach) NO ONE CAN STOP ME!
If I want to base every pirate on that island off of my favorite obscure history blorbos, who will stand in my way? Half the time, I don’t even need to change their names! If I want to play out out my Robert Culliford/Captain Kidd messy bisexual historical fanfic via my NPCs, they all gotta come along for the ride.
And the craziest thing of all is that my players actually like it!?!?!?!?
Granted I’ve given them plenty of autonomy when it comes to world building and creation of NPCs (they’ve come up with some of my favorites). The GM/player relationship is a two-way street.
But if I’d known that they’d just let me do this, I’d have started GMing a long time ago!!!
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chaoscontrolled123 · 2 years
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how it started & how it's going
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putting my oc in silly little outfits because no one is there to stop me
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bonus outfit for the beach episode
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Exile
Fire still roared in his mind's eye as Zeteth stumbled forward to the pressure of the ropes on his wrists. The bow and quiver on his back were no longer as comforting a weight as they once were. His head hurt both from the excess of noise and the burns.
The burns. Wrought from iron and fire and his sister's laughter, those burns bubbled and cracked as his face contorted with pain.
Zeteth was thrown to the ground, dirt and leaves crunching under his knees and hands. Someone cut his bonds loose, we t to take his bow.
"Leave it. Let him live in shame and despair," his sister, his beloved older sister said.
His last conscious thought as the footsteps walked away was a desperate wish for help.
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