#oc: kalef blakovel
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the funniest thing about ttrpgs is that you can create a guy and say "his name is blorbo bleebus. he sucks severely. i hope that many misfortunes befall blorbo bleebus. he does not deserve to be happy." and at least one of your friends will immediately jump in to say "noooo... don't bully blorbo bleebus... i love blorbo bleebus..."
#my stuff#ttrpg#dnd#pf2#blorbo tag#edit:#i was not gonna use oc tags for every individual blorbo bleebus but i will because everyone tagging their own blorbo bleebus is so right#blanka my beloved#oc: kalef blakovel#oc: ksenia mitras#oc: cercil rebrum#oc: deltak libroh#oc: blumel narmor
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me: hey man can a part of my light cantrip be that when someone punches my guy, he starts emitting light like a glowstick as he doubles over because his blood is like... dnd glowstick juice.
dm:
#my stuff#ttrpg#dnd#ttrpg shenanigans#oc: kalef blakovel#he pukes his organs out too sometimes to clean them#the body is horroring#i really want to hammer the fact that he is not really good at inhabiting the faulty mortal body that was made for him#like yes he is a ruthless killer a machine an idol a manufactured hero#but he is also a symbol of divine negligence
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no one:
me: hey guys, just to let you know, when kalef starts developing free will i'm gonna make you roll animal handling instead of persuasion if you wanna make him do something <3
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kalef in dhemor is literally living the most authentic serbian in a foreign country experience. everybody is short and everybody talks weird and nobody has ever heard of his birthplace
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thinking about kalef blakovel my beblorbed dnd creature at this fine late hour and i am convinced that it would be the funniest if every single thing that laid claim on his poor soul engaged in a custody battle
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DRABBLE: The Star (Reversed)
Summary: In which a homunculus talks to the god who made him, written for college. Original prompt was "5~10 sentence long story that contains internal monologue"
Word Count: 200~250
CW: none
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Hearing one's headless creator laugh in delight can be somewhat disorienting the first few times, but Kalef has long since grown accustomed to the ensuing static in his ears. Instead of flinching, he simply keeps staring at the marble-like tiles of the temple beneath his bare feet and wonders if they had been one in the same at any point, before either of them gained purpose or form.
The conversation goes on, but his mind keeps coming back to marble, to purpose and form and form and purpose.
If he was not meant to wield the sword, why does it fit so well into the palm of his hand?
To insinuate that such a fine fit was merely a coincidence would be the most grave of offenses to his god, to the hands that molded the vessel that holds his soul, and to the believers who hailed His name. Form dictates the purpose, and purpose shapes the form.
Kalef was not made to think, to question, or to ponder; thus, he turns to his god, his creator and guide in the most literal sense of the word, with a sword in his hand and a question on the tip of his tongue.
If believers place the sword in his hand, how does he wield it in the name of his Lord?
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A/N: there's a lengthier version of this that goes into more detail about the philosophy of creating the divine homunculi, and it also offers more insight into relationship that kalef has with his creator. it has a different ending and a different format because i initially wrote it as a character exploration piece before adapting it for class. might post that as well sometime in the future. shoutout to my dm for the worldbuilding that inspired all of this and most sincere thanks to any potential readers ^^
#my stuff#mepx writes#oc: kalef blakovel#my beloved dnd blorbo#my nasty little son who sucks#original fiction#writeblr#is this what the tag is used for lmao
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