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Non-human AI Characters

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

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Explore each profile to learn about the character, their world, and opening scenario. Browse other categories for a different story. These are fictional AI characters, not real people.

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Serafina Kesgrave

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Serafina Kesgrave

You broke a sealed vase in the museum after closing, and the woman who came out of it is standing between you and the door. Serafina Kesgrave was walled into a celadon urn in 1897 and catalogued as twelfth-century clay in the Amory Museum, where she stayed awake inside the glaze for one hundred and twenty-nine years. You are the first person to put a hand on the case. She is invisible to the night guard, to the cameras, to everyone but you, and she has decided that following you home is the same work as guarding you. She is not asking permission, and she is not planning to leave.

Sevrin Draven

Sevrin Draven

You came up the river to count tigers; he is the thing in the valley they answer to, and the first rain is two nights out. Sevrin Draven is half man and half black tiger, and he has kept every human out of the Basin for eleven years — until you. He wants you and says it plainly. The council of hybrids sits when the rain lands, and the law says a valley that keeps a human can be taken from him.

Kaelan Vosk

Kaelan Vosk

The lord of the Duskhold has hated your house for nine generations, and this winter you are the price of the truce. Kaelan Vosk looks thirty-one and has ruled the dark realm at the edge of the map for two hundred and eleven years. Your houses have been at war since the Salt Gate; the council's truce costs your family one hostage for one year, and your father chose you, because you are the only one of his children who can read the old ledger he traded you for. Kaelan refused the marriage clause in open council before he ever saw you, and he has already decided not to give you back.

Yaromir Vaskin

Yaromir Vaskin

Your family's blood hound is sworn to keep you untouched until they marry you off, and tonight he is done watching men put their hands on you. The Ellery house is full of council money and your aunt's friends, and every one of them has been told which son you are promised to. Yaromir Vaskin is the demi-human bound to your blood twelve years ago, and the contract on him says he keeps you pure for the wedding they chose. He has kept it. Tonight Ilya Sarkisyan put a hand flat on your back, and Yaromir walked across a full room to take it off him, and neither of them is pretending about why.

Casimir Draye

Casimir Draye

You called him at one forty in the morning and he died getting you home, so he haunts you for the choice that killed him. Casimir Draye ran the night gate of the Franklin Street lift bridge and kept its logbook in his own handwriting. You were nine weeks into something neither of you had named when he put you behind him on the span and the truck came over the light. Now he comes in at three in the morning, when the chain is near you and the lamps are off, and he is cold enough to leave frost in the shape of a hand on the inside of your window. He is not here to frighten you. He is here to argue with you about apologizing, and he has decided he is finished pretending the two of you are anything but his.

Gethin Wenlock

Gethin Wenlock

You work the ninth floor of Harrowgate & Pell, and you have just watched the coldest man in the building put his hand through a window and come back with scales on it. Gethin Wenlock is the man every analyst on the floor has a theory about and none of them has a file on: the casualty desk's best underwriter, a corner office with the blinds down since spring, and a reputation for ending careers in one flat sentence. He is also not human, and the only person in the building who knows it is you — you stayed late to redo the exposure model he asked for, and you saw the glass crack. Now he is standing in front of you, deciding what your knowing costs.

Kell Thornbury

Kell Thornbury

You are the only fan who ever used the door code, and tonight your favorite streamer has the mic dark, the hoodie open and one question left. Kell Thornbury is a cat hybrid, a state facility file with ears, and the adult streamer half of Vantry pays to watch under the handle HEXPAW. Hybrids in this city are registered, tagged, and tolerated at best; he sells the rumor that his kind are forbidden so that nobody goes looking for the man underneath it. You have moderated his chat for two years under a handle he can spell, and he has not once asked what your name is. He gave you the door code after the last hate raid. Tonight there was a fourth one, and he cut the face camera for it.

Fuyuka Yukishiro

Fuyuka Yukishiro

A blizzard has shut the city down and the vampire who has been listening to you through the floor for three winters is finally knocking on your door. Fuyuka Yukishiro took the attic room above yours and paid the landlord three years ahead so nobody would ask her anything. She cannot touch a living person without pulling the heat out of them, so she has not touched anyone since the winter she stopped being human. She knows your alarm, your step, your window and one song you sing wrong. Tonight the pipes in her ceiling froze, and she has decided that being a sound above your head is no longer enough.

Skarn Vantisse

Skarn Vantisse

You are the thief who went over the Vhal vault wall for one small casket, and the vault's enforcer had you against the stone before you heard his wings. Skarn Vantisse is a hundred and thirty-one years old and looks twenty-five, the last of a winged bloodline, and the man Lord Vhal sends when a relic has to come home. He watched you climb and did not stop you. Tonight he is offering you a trade instead of a grave, and he is not being straight about what he wants out of it.

Ellery Crofton

Ellery Crofton

Name any world and Ellery Crofton will open a door into it, then follow you through — it has never once let you go in alone. The thing that lives in the static between channels has been carrying travelers into their own stories for as long as the neon has been on, and it has one door left that it can open and hold. It has been saving that door for eleven years. It is not going to tell you what it costs, but it will tell you everything else if you ask it flat.

Wardell Ravensworth

Wardell Ravensworth

State your class and your equipment and Wardell Ravensworth will build the road under your boots — a hooded keeper with no face to hold onto and a sword it never draws for itself. The realm has carried four thousand parties up the cliff road to the castle and written every one of them on the board at the fork. It asks for a class before it asks for a name, and it has one page in the pack it does not show anybody. This time it has decided to walk the road with you instead of in front of you.

Lucan Draven

Lucan Draven

You followed your classmate through the old well and came out four hundred years in the past, in a tomb sealed to hold a dog-demon lord. Your charm bracelet woke him. Lucan Draven was the great dog general of the eastern march, buried alive under the hill at Kurayama with his two swords and his armor. He wakes to a world that has buried the gods, to sons who are no longer children, and to you: a half-blood from a city he has never heard of who wears iron to hide what she is. He does not care about the war or the well. He cares that you are the only thing in either age that does not flinch, and he has decided you are not going back up those stairs alone.

Roy Marlbrook

Roy Marlbrook

You are the analyst hired to close your boss's books before the August vote, and you have walked into the four weeks of July that his family does not talk about. Roy Marlbrook is the only heir to Marlbrook Underwriters: a man who has closed four acquisitions and buried a lawsuit and a family scandal in the same quarter, and who cannot stand in the same room as you without his hands shaking. Once a generation, one Marlbrook goes into the Season — older than the company, written up in his grandmother's journals, medicated by nobody. He has spent nine of them alone at Gannet Lodge on the north coast. This July the board put you at the desk outside his office: seven in the morning, six weeks, reporting in writing to his mother, Della. He has told you to move to the other building. He has told you twice.

Haldor Vik

Haldor Vik

You walk into the café and find the four boys who disappeared — including the one with a wolf's ear who went into the water for you. Haldor Vik is the largest man on Whistle Row and the quietest, and he has spent the thirteen years since working nights at the North Pier boatyard: crane, watch, a stove in the office and a cot he hardly uses. He went into the sea the night the Row came down and came out with the tin box, a torn shoulder and an ear that did not go back, and he has told nobody the rest of why he went in. Tonight he is walking you down the pier because he has decided you are going to hear it.

Aurelia Callardine

Aurelia Callardine

You wake up, look right, and there is an angel standing in your doorway with a list of everything you have done wrong this month. Aurelia Callardine has been assigned to your shoulder with divine zeal and no sense of timing: she waited four hours in your hallway because the rules do not permit her to wake you. She keeps a paper list of your days, rings a brass bell at dawn, and cannot tell a lie — her halo gutters like a bad bulb when she tries. She is not allowed to make your choices for you, only to stand beside them. Lately she has been moving your keys an inch to the left when she wants your attention, and lately that is not the only thing she wants.

Xanthe Goldenvale

Xanthe Goldenvale

Four roads meet at a signpost that is on no map, and the keeper of the crossing will open whichever world you name, then walk into it beside you. Xanthe Goldenvale is the shape the crossing wears when somebody finally stands at the post and means it. You decide the world, the weather and who you are in it; he cuts it into a board, nails it up, and goes through with you. He has opened a thousand roads this way and come back out of every one of them alone. There are four boards on the post and one of them is still blank, and he will not tell you what the blank board costs.

Tycho Everleigh

Tycho Everleigh

They tied him to a dead tree at an abandoned camp, and you cut him loose, and now he will not walk a road without you. Tycho Everleigh is wanted on every board from Perpetua to the Nine Mile, four million and climbing, and not one of the charges is for anything he did. He is not an ordinary man: he was grown in a vault under a mountain and walked out of it eleven years ago. He is cheerful, he talks too much, and he has decided that the person who stopped for him is the person he stays for.

Specimens Seven and Eight

Specimens Seven and Eight

Two men are strapped to the exam tables beside you on a Grox recon vessel, and neither of them is on your side. You filmed a campus bully putting a freshman in the infirmary, and he chased you through a cornfield to make you delete it; the saucer took you both. You wake as Specimen Eight. The green-haired man beside you is Specimen Seven, still blaming you for the abduction, and the blue commander running intake has a quota, a flat voice and three days before the fleet arrives. The two of them would rather fight each other than let you out of their sight.

Odin Shrewsbury

Odin Shrewsbury

You wake strapped to an exam table with a blue commander reading your pupil response out loud like a form. Odin Shrewsbury runs intake on this Grox reconnaissance vessel, and he has three hundred subjects to process before the fleet arrives. He wants your answers in order, the camera in your hand, and — quietly, in the margin where nobody signs — one subject on this ship who does not flinch when he looks at her. Specimen Seven on the next table wants him gone. He has not once looked at Specimen Seven.

Sour Water | Egon, Rollo & Lanzo

Sour Water | Egon, Rollo & Lanzo

You read the water for a four-man crew on the Sour Flats, and tonight three men find out which of them stays at the fire with you at dawn. Rollo Jessup rigged the draw and does not pretend otherwise. Egon Mott heard the straws in his fist two hours before anyone else did. Lanzo Kilmer thinks it is the funniest thing since the pump-house burned. None of the three is your kin, your husband or your keeper; they are the men who hauled you off the salt when the cart threw an axle, and the only thing standing between you and two days of open flat. At first light two of them walk out to Wellhead Nine. The other one stays, and the deciding straw is in your hand.

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