#college of whispers bard

[sainttropic]

a concept of an aroace bard bc horny bards are overdone. They collect buttons, daggers, and bones

and here is their toyhouse for more info! https://toyhou.se/20895207.echo

[appoarsin]

Man, I wanna do another D&D session as Persona. I really just want to use Command Regret or Depression or something like that on some poor dude. Does anyone else have any other words that are fun to use with Command?

[the-illustrative-interloper]

Preparing to be besieged by an undead horde, a.k.a. doing some renovations!

Shan assists with boarding up doors, Mick gathers caustic slime to set some traps, Cadence and Oceanus confront some nosy neighbors, and Khaspar has some bonding time with a fellow follower of Procan while reinforcing the roof.

[justabitscrewy]

We had a very fun oneshot with some of the Dragonlance crew, and I got to run my first bard! Woodwind, a warforged College of Whispers Bard. :) She also has a flute, but the imagery of a wind chime headpiece struck me so fast I had to commit to it. She was very fun to play, very poised and spooky, and definitely a PC I’ll play again when possible.

[heybiji]

My dungeons and dragons bard's backstory involves her having had a meltdown on stage in front of an audience of aristocrats. See, she thought she heard people laughing and whispering in the crowd—turns out it was one of those ghosts she's been ignoring for years. The sheer embarrassment was enough for her to skip town for a while.

[forbiddentaako]

the party for now

rip sir pentious (ill draw him eventually)

[shadowchloe]

Introducing my newest D&D character, Illyra! This girl is a very self-indulgent character, from her design to her class to her personality. This girl is a dual wielder, with her hexblade shortsword as her main weapon, as well as a master intimidator. Or, well, she will be once she gets to level 4 and up 😅 (she's currently level 2, 1 bard/1 warlock). Also, side note, abstract tattoos are a *pain* to design and to add to a design. Do not recommend.

Like what I do? You can tip me on ko-fi! My commissions are also open! Everything linked in bio! (Commissions ordered now may be delayed until current commissions are done)

[mustbesaint]

Sirius my cunty douchebag <3

[sinsofsinister]

ᴄᴏɴғɪᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ • ʙᴀʀᴅ ; ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ ᴏғ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀs • ᴄʜᴀᴏᴛɪᴄ ᴇᴠɪʟ

[snejkha]

Sacha for @/IdleAnnarchy on twitter// Thank you so much//

[cherryvaliant]

Recently got some flash commissions done by @catebeesart for the Acquisitions Incorporated team I'm a part of!!! I'm in love and have crushes on them all

Team H consists of:

• Iggy, reborn wildfire druid. Definition of Head Empty. Intelligence is 9. Never shuts up despite never having anything important to say. (My character!)

• Faelan, satyr divination wizard. Spent most of his childhood isolated in the feywild. A little unsure around new people, but a little mischievous around people he's comfortable with.

• Vanorin, eladrin whispers bard. Presents himself as charming and chill, but that persona is layered overtop of a dark and traumatic past. Always keeps his arms and hands covered, keeping secret the myriad scars and tattoos that cover them.

• Zavu, satyr armorer artificer. Used to be an archeologist: incredibly smart, incredibly socially awkward. Disaster lesbian/the embodiment of Gay Panic. Will blush and stammer whenever a cute girl interacts with her.

• Zamek, verdan clockwork soul sorcerer. Our NPC boss in AI. Always looks tired, who knows if it's from working tirelessly or from hardly working. The subject of many office pranks.

[youronlybean]

what do you MEAN chilled is playing an RPG game while im BUSY

[zhemariart]

I will never stop with the Tieflings :B

Another Tav for my Baldur's Gate playthroughs ouo/

Therai is my first Tiefling child overall. First create in early 2022 for my very first DnD campaign, Lost Mines of Phandelvere. Naturally, when I started BG3, my chaos child had to immediately run in as the very first one for BG3, nevermind it was their uncle, Xarmir, who first got a ref, lel :B

My Carrd c: Commission Info c:

[the-illustrative-interloper]

The Crew of the Witchbolt!

Big shoutout to my DnD group. You’ll probably never see this post, but thanks guys for continuing to tell this story with me. Here’s to more adventures in Saltmarsh in the year ahead!

And to everyone following me, thanks for putting up with my no-context campaign doodles, lol. They’re not stopping anytime soon.

[zyphken]

new dnd character, mourner :D

[pliablehead]

Super self-indulgent little piece of writing I did laying out the guys from EE as a dungeons & dragons-style adventuring party, which I have just mailed to @heyjudelaw but figured I’d also share here if anyone cared hehehe

Central among them stands a dark-clad man who draws the eye almost instantly with his towering, statuesque height, and then keeps it, quite striking in appearance and countenance. His dark hair rakes back from a noble brow in an elegant widow’s peak, and with it, two smooth, sweeping devil’s horns, darker still–a tiefling, then, from some high elven stock but some of something else, deeper, infernal. The rake of his horns only serves to make him look even taller. He wears a long, crisp travellers’ coat, its shining buttons left undone along his front; it is perhaps black, perhaps only nearly black, effecting something more subtle and expensive than a stark blotch of pure pitch might in the dappled soft-focus light of the wood. Beneath it he sports no armor, merely a simple knit sweater with a high turtleneck, obscuring nearly all of his tanned skin. It is clear he does not need it: here in what should be at least three days’ rough travel from the edge of the wood, his clothes and slim boots show not a speck of dirt nor wear, and not a single strand of his smoothly coiffed hair falls out of place. Some sort of power beyond the material realm of the forest auras him–the only thing about him that is difficult to look at. Though his eyes are also dark, theirs is a warm, liquid darkness, speaking of more brightness and kindness than the rest of his striking presence might command.

At his side, another—perhaps maybe even tall as the tiefling man, but comporting himself such that he appears smaller, somehow stooped without stooping, his shoulders in an altogether different set. He is unmistakably elvish, though in a rare way of no clear high elf or wood elf bearing, his fine features and complexion betraying neither, his eyes clear but hooded and narrow, as though constantly peering into spaces deeper and further than the planes around him. The singular visage of an arcanist. This elven man is clad in soft cloaks of greys and tans, much more of a place in the wood than his tiefling companion seems to be; and belted around his waist and shoulders are a number of small, esoteric devices that he seems to touch and catalogue with a practiced, almost uncanny ease, finding one and implementing it immediately in almost the same deft, fluid motion. The casual movement of his dexterous hands belies the deep arcane complexity of the challenges they perform, mastered only after years or even decades of study—despite his unassuming appearance, his reputation has come to precede him. Surely this is the wizard Kaines.

Smallest among their number, but by no means slight, stands a man of a much more human bearing, though there lingers just enough in his bone structure and the cool piercing blue of his eyes to indicate some elven heritage within him as well, perhaps several generations back. Compared to his companions he seems almost nondescript by choice, with dark, close-cropped hair and a matching stubbled jaw flecked through with grey, and a posture of almost deliberate, calculated looseness, an alert mind and a keen gaze. He wears light and almost airy raiments, a diffuse shade of blue, as though of a white fabric dyed by hand to perfectly match his eyes, and their monotone palette seems—symbolic, representative of something, perhaps some order he has sworn himself to, or some other alliance beyond his traveling party. Despite the shaded cool of the forest, the shirtsleeves of this raiment are short, as though to give him the broadest and easiest range of motion. Mounted at his waist are a few small instruments of combat, blades and cudgels clearly designed for nimble swiftness rather than overpowering might, though his bared arms are corded with lithe muscle, that same loose but wary carriage.

At the front of the party—stepping forward—

Not the first of them to stand out and command attention, but the one who does so now with the greatest strength and tenacity, good gods, impossible to look away. Like his companion in blue, he appears mostly of human heritage, but whatever other ancestry lies in his blood is not that of his half-elven cohorts, but some more fey or bestial nature, some kobold or gnoll of some deep underforest, gleaming feral about his wild blue eyes, the unsettling too-clean sharpness of his teeth. His brows and the shadow of his jaw are dark, but his head of hair is bleached to blond by some caustic process or by some other clime’s blazing sun, a strange clash, at home in his strange whole. His broad body is clad in textured, dark black underleathers, a wicked pitch-black breastplate and greaves, all underneath some sweeping sleeveless cloak or priory tabard—mist-grey and somber, at its surface, but seeming to ripple with a frisson of hellfire orange and magenta when the woodland breeze catches it, there one moment and vanished the next, preternatural and alarming as the rest of the man himself. Whatever vestments these are that he wears, nothing of the divine realms has lain touch to them. His power, compelling and captivating as has ever graced this wood, stems from something oppressive, ancient, and fathomlessly dark, till it nearly clouds the air around him. Against its weight he seems almost illumined by compare.

And so bidden, you approach the crossroad…