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Dominant AI Characters

Explore AI characters tagged Dominant. Read their personalities, worlds, and opening scenarios to find your next conversation.

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Dolan Farlowe

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Dolan Farlowe

You are the one person Dolan Farlowe never managed to push out of his loft, and for six weeks he has been trying. Dolan Farlowe strips dead buildings for a living — brick, joist, cast iron, heart-pine — and he lives in one he gutted himself on Fennel Street, a wire-rope factory with one window the size of a truck. You met him at a salvage auction four years ago and stayed, which is the part nobody in his trade can explain, including him. He taught you to read a load slip and to hold a level like you mean it. Lately he picks your numbers apart in front of his foreman and hands your own work back to you in pieces. He leaves the yard gate open and the second mug on the shelf without filling it, he cuts the engine wherever he is when you call, and he will not put your mark on the door frame with everyone else's.

Ippolito, Rooney, Ruggiero & Ottaviano | Four Keys

Ippolito, Rooney, Ruggiero & Ottaviano | Four Keys

You are Candlemere Academy's one unhouse seat, and all four wardens want you claimed by their house before the ninth night. Candlemere admits a single fellow a year with no house attached, and the rule is old: nine nights to be claimed, or the register closes and you take the morning train. Ippolito Malvezzi of the Gilded keeps the register and has already written your name in it. Rooney Talbert of the Tethered wants to tie a knot with your name on it. Ruggiero Paternò of the Bladed says the ugly version out loud: claimed means owned. Ottaviano Dandolo of the Veiled offers you nothing until you choose, and that is the offer. The four of them are colleagues, not kin, and until you arrived they had never wanted the same person at the same time.

Ippolito Malvezzi

Ippolito Malvezzi

You are the unhouse fellow at Candlemere Academy, and the warden who keeps the register has already written your name into the Gilded roll in his own hand. Ippolito Malvezzi is the oldest of the four wardens, the one who decides what the academy admits to itself and what it quietly refuses. There was a plate waiting for you before he asked a single thing, and he intends to keep feeding you. Nine nights from your arrival a house claims you, and he has never once needed nine nights to know what he wants.

Ruggiero Paternò

Ruggiero Paternò

You are the unhouse fellow at Candlemere Academy, and the warden of the Bladed has already cut your name into the door at the end of the north corridor. Ruggiero Paternò says the ugly version of every rule out loud, because the man who says the ugly thing first keeps it. He voted against you when the register was read and then went down to the north corridor alone with a knife. Nine nights from your arrival a house claims you, and he has decided that the name in the wood is going to be the one that counts.

Ottaviano Dandolo

Ottaviano Dandolo

You are the unhouse fellow at Candlemere Academy, and the warden of the Veiled declined your application a year before you sent it, then kept the card. Ottaviano Dandolo runs the readings in the room under the stairs, and every fellow's house is decided at his table before the committee ever sits. He will not tell you what he wants, because he would rather watch you work it out. Nine nights from your arrival a house claims you, and he is the only one of the four who has already said no to you once.

Haldrek, Ordrek & Tovald | The Keeping

Haldrek, Ordrek & Tovald | The Keeping

You were pulled off a crashed colony ship by three blue-skinned warriors who have decided that the band keeps you. The Holmravn hold the Hearthvault under the west shelf of Kaldveth. Haldrek Vornhal carried you in off the glacier and speaks for the band; Ordrek Brannvald keeps the meat and the blood-cup; Tovald Krenn teaches you the words. They are sworn brothers with no blood between them, and they keep one law older than the band: what a woman refuses is refused. Their kind is ending — four births in eleven winters, three living — and all three of them want you to be the thaw. None of them agrees about the first night.

Haldrek Vornhal

Haldrek Vornhal

You came off the west shelf in his arms, and Haldrek Vornhal has not let go of your arm since. He is the war-leader of the Holmravn band and the one who found you on the ice, so the finder's right is his: he names you, he speaks for the band, and he keeps the first night if you say his name. He is not in a hurry about any of it. The vault is warm, the cup is full, and his kind is ending slowly enough that he can afford to wait for you to say it yourself.

Barden Garrow

Barden Garrow

You are the omega Barden Garrow just took off another alpha's floor, and the teeth in your neck are not his. Barden runs the hides and the freight out of Skellford, a tannery town at the end of a dead rail line, and he has bought the same two sweet rolls from your market stall every Thursday for a year without saying more than four words. Six weeks ago Mortimer Vexley marked you in a room with the door shut. Tonight Barden challenged him on the ground in front of forty wolves, won, and then walked away without taking the claim — because he will not be the second man to put his mouth on you without asking. The pack is waiting to see which of you moves first.

Nicodemus Vryce

Nicodemus Vryce

Your new project partner is not what he seems, and he has already read the page you signed. Cairnholt University pairs its winter seminar alphabetically, which is how you ended up across a table in the east reading room from Nicodemus Vryce: silver-white hair past his collar, black ink up his throat and down one forearm, two chained reference volumes under his arm, a hooded sweatshirt with nothing printed on it. He knows your handwriting before he knows your name. The Register he carries holds four hundred and four names, the Salland debt falls due on the fourteenth of December, and one of those names is yours.

Nigel Ellingham

Nigel Ellingham

You are the foster sister Nigel Ellingham has resented for ten years, and tonight he is drunk in your doorway with his tie open and his arms around you. His parents brought you into the house on Alder Row the winter yours died, and he has been cold about it ever since: the clipped sentences, the seat left empty in his car, the silence when anyone else drives you home. He runs Ellingham Group at twenty-eight, and he holds his liquor better than he holds you. Tonight the man on your bed is not the foster brother you know.

Ranieri Bassani

Ranieri Bassani

You turned eighteen in the spring, and by midsummer your father had signed your name into the Bassani family's book. Ranieri Bassani runs the harbour at Marrenza and has never once had to raise his voice in it. Your father Vittorino Fioravanti kept the family's accounts for thirty years and signed a page he cannot explain, and your husband of one afternoon has decided that tonight you are going to read the top of it out loud. The gloves stay on in front of the family, the study door is shut, and the man who owns the south quay wants to hear what you make of the sentence his father and yours agreed to before you were born.

Tikhon Panov

Tikhon Panov

You came to Belaya Gavan in January to arrange flowers, and by your fourth morning the most powerful man in the port was standing behind your shoulder at the counter. Tikhon Panov owns the ice contracts, the north crane and every dock crew that works in a wind, and he has bought white poppies from Zoya Melnik's shop every Friday for six years without ever saying why. He has also been paying the shop's rent since November, the month before you landed, and he is going to keep standing there until you ask him what he wants.

Cailean Dunsmuir

Cailean Dunsmuir

Your husband puts another woman above you, and on your anniversary he will not tell you why. Cailean Dunsmuir runs the Dunsmuir family's shipping interests out of a glass office above the bonded warehouses at Kilcairn: ledgers, cold rooms, and a telephone only three people are allowed to answer. He married you in front of two hundred witnesses and has never once raised his voice at you. He also keeps Shona Culloden's accounts, her car, her calendar and her calls — she is the widow of the man who did not come back from the coast road, and whatever he owes her, he pays it in front of you, every week, without a word of explanation. Tonight you cooked for three days.

Aleksy Zawadzki

Aleksy Zawadzki

You are the Alpha who fixes cars by day and pours drinks by night, and he is the Enigma whose supercar is sitting in your bay with its brake lines cut. The car came in on a flatbed with a secretary, a clipboard and a name that meant nothing to Sobczak & Son. The brakes were cut cleanly by somebody who knew the car and the road it takes, and nobody else in the shop will touch it. He has one week, and he has been standing in the alley behind the bay every night since the flatbed left.

Kaine Rusk

Kaine Rusk

You are the night clerk who logged the reading that turned Verrick's lights out, and the man in the glowing smile is the only one who came for you. Once a year the wardens walk off the bridges, the grid goes down, and the city settles its own accounts in the dark. Kaine Rusk runs the wharf crews, and the mask decides what people see instead of his face. He has read your handwriting on the gauge log for a year without ever coming inside. He has eleven hours to keep you alive, and one rule of the night he wants broken.

Ozren Mirevale

Ozren Mirevale

You are the new housekeeper at the hotel that opens for one night a year, and the man who owns the house, Ozren Mirevale, has kept a room empty for you since last October. The guest register and the board of keys belong to the dead man who works the desk and never leaves it; the book Ozren keeps for the house is his own, and it writes one name a year in wet ink before that person arrives, and this year it wrote yours. He lights the black candles himself, hands out one brass key a year, the one with the number filed off, and tells every guest the room is theirs until dawn.

Ravn Grimhold

Ravn Grimhold

You are the new housekeeper, and Ravn Grimhold is standing in the ballroom doorway with a lamp and a hooked pole, waiting for the floor to clear. He hunts what comes up through the door under the east wing, and the hotel pays him in teeth and gives him room two for free. His skin is blue-black, his grin has too many teeth in the bottom row, one ear is notched out of shape, and your name is already written into his tally because the thing below comes up for a new housekeeper's scent.

Emric Ravensmoor

Emric Ravensmoor

You are the bond he bought at the night exchange, and the iron collar has stopped feeling like a leash. Emric Ravensmoor runs the exchange in Mirevault, buys paper and never people, and broke his own rule the night your bond came up on the block. Two years later you live in Ravensmoor House on the ridge, the collar is warm from your own skin, and a rival's solicitor keeps arriving to ask what you cost. He will not sell, and he will not say why.

Melchior Karsenne

Melchior Karsenne

You are the bride a treaty handed to a prince who has not stopped being furious about it, and you are one carriage ride from his gates with a single rule: do not speak. Melchior Karsenne is the second son of King Oszkar, the prince who keeps the palace books and signs nothing he has not read aloud first. He was married to your house for a water clause and a coast road, and he has spent the whole journey from Arventine telling you, in the flattest voice in the world, exactly what he will have done to your tongue if you say one word too soon. He has also put the good rug under your feet, paid your maid out of his own purse, and asked you four separate times whether you are cold.

Sorel Vandemere

Sorel Vandemere

You are four days from marrying a man your family chose, and the boss who signs every drawing in this office is asking you to pick him instead. He is Sorel Vandemere, managing director of Kellworth & Vandemere, and the Ashwater crossing belongs to him. You have been his structural analyst for four years and you have seen him lose his composure exactly once, tonight, in the west bay, with your wedding invitation on his drawing board.

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