Journey into Umbra - A Camor Empire Story Character Depository

[Okami]

Post the characters you made for Camor here!

Name:
Age: (all races have roughly the same lifespan, vampires live about twenty years longer than a human)
Gender:
Race:
Sexuality:
Romanceable?:
Job: (if employed)
Personality:
Biography:
Reason for joining the Expedition:
Gear:
Enchanted Items: (if any)
Appearance:​

 

[Okami]

Name: Fever

Age: 26

Gender: Female

Race: Vampire

Sexuality: Demi

Romanceable?: Sure

Job: Ex Owner of the Tavern Arcadia

Personality: Being a barkeep and spending most of her life dealing with all manor of patrons Fever is rather social and patient. She had to be in order to ensure she would keep getting business, now that she lost her bar and will be on a ship full of who knows how many people, she’s likely to get a little less patient. She has a dislike of werewolves, common for her species, due to the fact that her tavern was often targeted by guards demanding extra taxes and protection money. Considering Emperor Markus stated that everyone is equal on his fleet Fever isn’t afraid to make her thoughts known about those shape shifting flee bags. She’s fine with all other species though she doesn’t have much experience with them, Arcadia was mostly visited by vampires needing a drink though 5% of her clientele were humans.

Biography: Fever, like most of her kind, was born and raised in the Red Corner of Evertide. With this place to grow up at, she was instilled with a hatred of her people’s conquerors and their descendants. Her parents ran a moderately successful tavern that doubled as their home on the edge of the ghetto like district and after their passing from a fire Fever was all that remained of her family. She took over running Arcadia but all good things come to an end, especially when Markus passed a bill to increase taxes of non werewolves. This hurt the vampires the most, whether or not the young emperor knew this, many lost their homes and businesses. Fever was the same, pairing the tax increase with the illegal dealings of the guards near Arcadia Fever knew that she couldn’t save her family business. She got the name Fever due to the fact that she was born with a burning hot fever, her parents didn’t want to get attached to her if they were to lose her right away but two weeks later when she recovered totally, the name Fever was given to her to remind her that she is a fighter.

Reason for joining the Expedition: Arcadia was months away from going under, unless she wanted to find another job she needed money. Seeing as she didn’t have much to leave behind, she joined the expedition.

Gear: A necklace she purchased for herself, the bright red is a joke about how vampires drink blood from the neck.

Enchanted Items: Fever has a set of enchanted gloves and boots, these allow her to stick to walls and ceilings. The fact that she is able to hang upside down like a bat does not help the image of vampires.

Appearance: Physically, Fever is a typical vampire. Because her kind lack skin pigment and hair they all appear rather similar, the only differences being their gender or heights. There’s small variations between individuals that other vampires are excellent at picking out, slightly larger eyes, dimples, or a unique posture but for other species most vampires look the same. It’s like trying to tell which identical twin is which when you just meant them and they have the exact same style. Annoyed with this, Fever underwent a rather painful procedure to allow her to stand out, she’s tattooed the entire back of her head, neck, and small of her back. These tattoos aren’t anything in particular, just a bunch of abstract colors mixing and matching all the way down to her back, like a mandala without the dividing lines. She always wears her enchanted gear and also a brown tunic and leggings. She also has a dark blue bandana that she sometimes wears, usually if she’s going out in a non vampire populated area, her tattoos can sometimes cause trouble with rowdy werewolves.

 

[Combat]

Skeleton:
Name: Leoril Singsteel

Age: Twenty Five

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Sexuality: Straight, though he has little experience with those of the opposite sex that are as old as him.

Romanceable: It really depends on the person. Leoril’s childhood was pretty sheltered, so his experience with other people ranges from servants who were years older than him or were his half-siblings. Needless to say, he’s a little out of the loop in this regard. It’s probably best to just ask him about the trauma that came with his first kiss.

Job: Unemployed, but is the potential heir to a powerful banking firm and as such has some experience in the field. Wishes he could have been chivalric thief from a storybook.

Biography: The twelfth (legitimate) child of the Singsteel family, the second most powerful human banking firm in Camor, Leoril might sound like a stereotypical rich human who never faced adversity in his life. This would be dreadfully incorrect. Leoril’s father, head of the Singsteel dynasty, was not one to swaddle any of his children. From birth, Leoril was taught that it was a dog eat dog world, with any kindness being a source of weakness and any weakness being a flaw.

Leoril was raised by a revolving door of nurses, tutors, and servants, many of who only lasted weeks until they drew his father’s ire and were swiftly released. Leoril’s father was a cruel man from the very first memory Leoril had of him, and saw his children not as kin, but as clay to be molded in a way that his legacy would live on in exactly the way he wanted it. Leoril’s father wanted his children to be as cold-hearted as him, and raised them as such. With an environment like this, one might think that the siblings might join together, but alas, no. Leoril’s father wanted no bonds between them, and so made his inheritance go to only one of them, namely, whoever received the most amount of praise and best resembled him. The rest would receive nothing.

With no servant lasting more than a year and a family that was willing to cut each other’s throats, Leoril found solace in books. One of his older brothers introduced them to him at a young age (which was probably an attempt to distract Leoril and make him soft, which worked) and had him hooked. Leoril would often spend what little free time he had reading adventure novels about great werewolf heroes while trying to still appeal to his judging father.

During a particularly nasty outburst from his father, Leoril was struck so hard by him that his right eyeball was disconnected. Obviously, this case of child abuse was covered up by higher society, and Leoril’s father had surgeons remove the eyeball (so it didn’t rot away in his eye socket and look unsightly) and had glass makers make a glass eye replacement. Leoril tried to hide the fact that he only has one good eye, not because he thinks it makes him a freak, but because he’s afraid to show any sort of weakness, which he was taught to detest.

Personality: Leoril was sheltered for most of his life, only being allowed to contact those his father considered to be his social equal. That, along with Leoril being the youngest heir to a powerful family meant that he didn’t get much social training in his youth. Thankfully, being the youngest heir also meant that he was often picked on by his eleven other siblings. For some, this would cause them to hurt those weaker than them, but for Leoril, this formed a fragile empathy.

Leoril is well educated and is willing to put his smarts to use when they suit them. Of course, this means while he may know the history of the Werewolf empire, he wouldn’t understand most maxims or slang. Seeing the world outside the Camor Empire is a dream come true for Leoril, as his childhood was filled with books about action, adventure, and romance, so one could say he holds a childhood wonder about the world.

Leoril tries to remain polite to those he deals with, a side effect of his “lessons” from his father but has been known to lash out at those who push him too far. Leoril thinks he would treasure his friends dearly though he isn’t sure, he hadn’t had any since he was real friends since he was eleven. Leoril finds fantasy novels to be one of his favorite things ever, and will quickly bond over them. He secretly hopes they never return to the city so he wouldn’t have to deal with the politics of his family, and would be fine living off the land and starting over.

Reason for joining the Expedition: One of Leoril’s older brothers was the one to suggest the idea to Leoril. If Leoril were to return with news of the other side of the world, he’d be held in high regard from his father. Leoril, hungry for adventure, agreed and signed up. Little did he know, his brother had signed up for a life insurance policy on him. If Leoril was gone for three years, his brother would receive a tidy sum, which would surely look good to their father...
Gear: Several changes of clothing, eight well read books, small knife that has never been used besides for opening letters, necklace showing his family crest

Enchanted Items: Leoril owns a small leather sack that contains four small, enchanted items. Each is roughly the size of a playing die, and hold a small enchantment. Each is meant to work as a small environmental changer and holds little function besides providing comfort.

The Yellow Pyramid: Produces a cube of darkness. Any light that enters it is snuffed out (though it would still keep burning, in the case of a candle or the like) and is completely dark to even those with night vision. Used mostly for napping during the day.
The Green Cube: Produces a cube of light. Exactly like the yellow pyramid, though instead, it produces a sourceless light. No shadows are cast inside the light and is not hazardous to one's eyes if exposed to for long periods. Used for reading at night without any light source.
The Blue Octagon: Produces a cube of warmth. The temperature in the cube reaches a toasty ninety degrees, and only affect things inside the cube. Exiting the cube will immediately reset the effects of those who were in it, which can be dangerous if there is a major temperature difference. Used for cold, lonely nights on the ship.
The Red Decagon: Shocking, this makes a cube of cold. The temperature in it is about forty degrees, and hold similar effects to the Blue Octagon. Used for keeping Leoril cool on sunny days.

Each item covers an area of about a seven-foot cube. Those looking from the outside in will notice no notable change, but for those in the area, the difference is noticeable. The bag itself is enchanted to nullify the abilities of the items inside it.

Appearance: (No, Leoril is not Heterochromatic. His father hit him so hard he needed a glass eye replacement. Seriously, Heterochromia is a lot rarer than you think.)

 

[Okami]

This character is not mine, his owner has yet to be accepted on storytellerscircle so I am just posting this for him by proxy.
Name: Sshozshohsias
Age: 45
Gender: Male
Race: Quetzal
Sexuality: Asexual
Romanceable?: Although it isn't outside of the possibility spectrum, be aware that he will not change the way he treats someone. To him, there's no difference between a friend or a lover, and he'll never strike up the initiative for a romantic moment.


Job: He works, well worked, as a priest that revered Pulvi, the harbinger of storm and rain. He was in charge of pronouncing the sacred rites, giving thanks to the bounties brought upon the combined blessings of Pulvi and Stella.

Personality: Due to his upraising, he's generally reserved and well spoken, accustomed to bearing the responsibility of forgiving the sins of his brethren in the Gods' stead. He offers himself as an individual to put trust in, willing to establish connections with anyone, outside of those that deny the existence of the Gods. He is no saint to those that bear ill will against his compatriots, much less those whom believe it wise to fight against his people. Though, as much as possible, he doesn't let the conflict of politics complicate his mind.

Biography:
He was born on the evening of a powerful storm, the sky raged and thundered, lightning crackling and hitting the treetops of forests; a calamitous night it was. He was the last of his batch, all his brothers and sisters had hatched from their eggs days ago, yet he remained unhatched. His parents, his father specifically, had wanted to toss away this "bad" egg, believing that it'll bring even more misfortune, like right now. Currently, they were one of the few left behind on this island of theirs, many among their neighbors had left for the main island, to visit the capital to trade.

They and a few other families were left behind to manage the crops and livestock, whilst the others brought their goods to trade for not easy to obtain products, like silks and metals. The evening progressed terrifyingly, no matter how much they tried, the anger of nature retaliated with ferocious winds and roaring thunder. During all of this, his egg finally started to show signs of hatching, unfortunately, his mother were too busy managing the panicking siblings of his, while his father was fixing the leaks on the roof. Unbeknownst to them, he hatched from his egg, and as he did, a great clap of thunder shook the world as a peal of lightning burned the sky. These covered his hisses for attention, and they silenced him afterwards.

Still mindless and a hungering growing in the newborn, it stared outside the window, at the falling "things" that never stopped. He ate the remains of his eggshell, breaking them into smaller pieces with his weak hands and swallowing them. They temporarily staved the hunger, whilst his thirst was quenched with the droplets that dripped from the roof. His parents, finally remembering about this problem egg of theirs, and went to check. They were met with the scene of a blue-scaled small child staring wistfully at the rain with empty eyes. Although they found this peculiar, they didn't put much thought in it and just pulled him with the others. They spent the evening curled together in front of a warm fire, letting the storm pass over.

A few years pass by, and Sshozshohsias was slowly starting to grow into an attractive serpent, his scales were smooth and a vibrant blue, his small wings were showing signs of a beautiful plumage. Many among the village sighed in admiration, congratulating his family for producing not just one beautiful serpent child, but 3, the other two being his days older siblings. His mother was once a renowned courtesan in one of the major cities, whilst his father was a powerful hunter that had slain many beasts. There were 5 of them siblings, with 2 inhering the beauty and grace of his mother, while the other pair with the great strength and agility of their father. He had the best of both worlds, being born with an exquisite appearance and a talent for fighting, but he was... Different.

Most kids his age were either training with their parents, or were playing around under the sun. While most kids enjoyed sunny and cloudy days, he enjoyed the cool rainy days that the villagers make and/or allow. Other kids would hide in their homes, while he'd leave the house and slither his way through the mud, one of the rare moments when he showed enjoyment. Many found this queer, and urged their children to not interact with him, but he didn't care. His queerness doesn't end there, rumors and teases about him being mute were also abound, claiming he was dumb and incapable of speech. His family knew better, they knew he could hiss like any other Quetzal, it's just that he rarely does it.

A few more years pass by. He was now a teenager, although he was still a bit antisocial, he now interacted with the other folks in his village. His beautiful siblings tended the fields, helping the town elders bring drizzles and sunshine to make them grow. His athletic siblings were always in the woods, hunting wild game with their arrows and fangs, strangling them if they needed to. He also helped with the village, he was always there whenever they called for rain, he was also there whenever they offered their sacrifices to the gods, especially when revering Pulvi. He helped the local priest prepare the ceremonies, singing the ancient verses with his friends and family with a satisfied look on his face. With his strength, he also hunted from time to time, but almost everything he gets is offered to the rain, much to the gratitude and joy of the priest and his family.

Even more years fly by, now he stands over most of his kin, towering with his height of 6' 3", but he didn't lose his natural good looks. Rather, he was now much more charming, his wings now fully grown and filled with the most illustrious colors. One faithful day, he stood on the bow of their trading ship, feeling the salty wind cascade against his azure scales. He had volunteered to help with the transaction, mostly as muscle for carrying, but he wanted to see the new sights. He was curious about the world outside his island, he wanted to experience new sensations that weren't readily available in his backwater village. Though, it seems Fate had a different plan for this seafarer, and as usual, Fate is a heartless bitch. Yet another storm had arrived, and although they indeed had many of the villagers on the vessel, but the clouds were far too large, and the winds made the waves angrily lap against the hull of the ship. For the first time in his life, he feared the rain and wished it away, but Nature and Fate were working here, hand in hand.

The storm crackled over them, the waves rose high above their heads and smashed against the vessel. They tried to keep it afloat, they really did, but the waves rolled them over and shattered the wooden ship. Everything afterwards was a swirl of confusion and getting washed away, he could barely think, he only felt the cold slowly devour him without pause. Then, silence. He awoke, his eyes glancing around confusedly and his scales moist, despair creeping inside him. The horizon was covered by rolling fog, he laid on an outcropping of black stone filled with moss. A blurred memory of him slamming against these stones grew in his mind, feeling the ache on his chest. Those were probably his bones. He checked himself, and saw a spot where his scales got torn off, showing the meat underneath.

He stared listlessly, his mind flying to conclusions; he blamed the Gods, then he blamed the crew, then he blamed the shipwrights, then he blamed himself. After that, he shook himself and started to forgive and ask for mercy; he feared the Gods, he was sorry for the other crew, he couldn't blame the shipwrights, but he still blamed himself. His mind wasn't in the right place, he couldn't just put fault in everything. His eyes darted above, praying for the Gods above to send him aid. He had offered his wings and his being, in exchange for his life. He waited and waited, until exhaustion and hunger finally took him over, sending him unconscious. He dreamed of many things; his younger years in the rain, the times when he sang the songs of Pulvi during a ceremony, the moments when he was alone and pondering about the calming serenity the rain brought to him.

During his unconsciousness, he vaguely felt the barren roughness of his back turn into smooth timber, then into fine cloth. Bursts of heat scoured his scales, soft dabs of cloth rubbed against him, the cold yet gentle touch of another's hands massaged his body. After an unknown amount of time, his eyes snapped open, seeing a wooden ceiling decorated with rainclouds and stars peeking through the slits. He saw drawings of the rain falling on the fertile land, bounties of nature growing from the water it gave. He even saw a portrait of the very rare moments when Pulvi and Stell combined their domains, the beautiful 7-colored arch that stretched through the sky. Confused, he raised himself and looked around, discovering that he was on a soft bed, surrounded by herbs, incense sticks, and golden idols. Scrutinizing the idols, he was able to tell that the statues were of Pulvi. As he was wondering how had gotten here, he finally noticed the gentle rocking of the room, and he surmised that he was still on the seas.

He forced himself up and respectfully left the room, bowing towards the images of the rain deity. He was met with long empty hallway, with many doors on each side. Towards his left was an opening where sunlight was coming from, and without a sound, he went towards it. He was met with a door that was slightly ajar, and he could smell the scent of salt. Opening it, he saw that he was still on the seas, but the boat was heading towards a landmass, one that he was not knowledgeable of. He wasn't even certain of the name, and near the bow of the ship, placed on a position that was very similar to his on the old boat, was an elderly Quetzal. They had black and red scales, their arms like twigs, and their tail a smattering of differing colors. With a gasp, his mind started racing, he had heard before that colorful tails meant that they were high ranking members of the clergy.

The elderly quetzal turned towards him, the puzzled eyes filled with wisdom. The elderly quetzal wore glamorous ceremonial robes, inscriptions of symbols pertaining to Pulvi stitched in gold. The old snake greeted him with a smile, while he instantly lowered himself to bow, a shot of pain suddenly coursing through his torso. The old man helped him, offering to return back to bed to heal from his injuries. As he was brought back to what the old serpent called the Sick Bay, he was lightly question about who he was and how'd be come to getting stranded on the rock. He eventually got a turn to ask questions and himself, and the answers surprised him, at the very least. He was currently on a vessel carrying young priests on a pilgrimage, and the elderly quetzal was in charge of teaching them about the jobs of a priest.

Through this, he learned that the old snake was a High Priest of Pulvi, and this excited him to no end. Suddenly, he was reminded about the promise he had made, of offering his wings and himself to the gods if he survived the ordeal. The old serpent had left him on the bed, asking him to stay and recuperate, doubts and thoughts flourishing as he laid there in silence. With a shake of his breath, he steeled his will and resolutely swore that he'd offer his everything to the gods. Thus, he waited for one of the priests or crew members to visit him, and asked for the High Priest. When the old serpent came by to check on him, his eyes glared into the High Priest's, determination coursing through them. He swore, in front of the High Priest, in front of the idols, that he'd live his life in the name of the Gods, that he would fulfill their will and act as their servant.

The High Priest, though confused as first, found this exhibition of his enjoyable, and thus agreed and hired him to work as an aide. The very next day, they finally arrived on the island, and the first thing he did was find a merchant or fishing ship that passed by his home. He wrote a letter and asked them to pass it off to his family, while he would follow the pilgrimage to the very end. It lasted an entire year, circling each island and doing it each ceremony; apparently the boat carried priests that served all the Gods, it just so happened that the High Priest served Pulvi. He learned many things, he trained himself in fighting, believing that he'd act as the shield of his faith, while he learned of the deeper teachings of the church from the priests and the High Priest. The pilgrimage ended with them going to the capital, to bless the kingdom's royal family and sacred motherlands. There, he was properly baptized, becoming a priest himself, leaving as soon as he arrived for his own Pilgrimage. Before he went, although he didn't slice of his wings, he sacrificed many of his feathers, leaving his wings barren and dull, but he didn't care.

The first island he visited for his Pilgrimage, which he decided to do alone, was his home. There he met his worried family and gave them his love, and he blessed the village with the help of the local priest, who was simply overjoyed to see him being a member of the clergy. Time passes by, he didn't know halt his training, he finished his Pilgrimage but decided to instead plant his roots in the capital. He served there for two decades, and continuously rose from the position of being a normal priest. Now, he directly served the High Priests, acting as their messenger and representative. The time arrived when rumors of the expedition started to spread through the populace, and naturally, they wanted one of the priests to be an ambassador to whatever was at the other side. Being one of the few priests that was actually capable in both priesthood and warriorhood, he was chosen to be a representative of the expedition, bearing the hopes and dreams of his people.

Reason for joining the Expedition:
Gear: A set of ceremonial attire, mainly the head ornament and the dazzling accessories; A special dagger used to carve specific parts from sacrifices; A golden stave with the icon of a winged serpent nestled on its tip.

Enchanted Items:
Burning Powder
He has a satchel of magical powder that can burst into flames when special word is uttered. While within the satchel, the word has no effects on the powder, but when sent out of it, the word will trigger the powder's magical effects. The magical word can only be fluently spoken in the native tongue of Quetzals, thus, limiting the chances of other races using it.

Spirit Spear/Shield
The armbands he has are enchanted, capable of producing a translucent spear and shield set out of thin air. Activating it causes a slight drain on his stamina, with the drain perpetually increasing if the artefacts are kept active. The translucent equipment have a bluish glow to them; the type of shield/spear produced depends on himself.

Thunder's Call
He has a horn-shaped instrument that, when blown, causes an extremely loud sound to explode from it. Although its design and purpose might seem crass and simple, it contains another built in ability; when the horn is blown when it's raining, a flash of lightning will strike a random location within 100 meters of the user, with the horn replacing the sound of thunder in the sky.
Appearance: