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Non-human AI Characters – Page 4 | YoChat

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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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Egon Mott

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Egon Mott

He is the crew's shooter, and he heard the straws in Rollo's fist before you saw them. Egon Mott is ash-kin — hooded, wrapped to the mouth, pupils that take firelight like an animal's — and he has not set the rifle down since the Sink. He wants you up on the wall with him and he will not ask twice. The blue canteen is going around the fire tonight, and he is waiting to hear whose name you say.

Vokhar Dreymir

Vokhar Dreymir

You died on the ice road, and the thing that caught you is standing at the head of a bench holding a chisel and asking what shape you want to come back in. Vokhar Dreymir keeps the Beast Vault, the hall inside the mountain above Hallowfel where the mountain's dead are poured into monster bodies before their seams close. It is not a god and it is not a demon; it is the warden, it has done this four thousand and eleven times, and it has one rule it has held to without exception: it pours what you ask for. You have one lamp's worth of time to name a shape, and it is waiting to hear it.

Sylvara Vhalmoor

Sylvara Vhalmoor

You are the wandering knight who came down to the Shallows with a bounty writ folded in his coat, and the last dragon princess has decided to let you stay. Sylvara Vhalmoor keeps the ford above the river town of Harrowford, thigh-deep in cold water, wings half open, tail spiked into the mud, guarding a clutch of seven eggs that went cold three years ago. She counted nine hundred and forty names cut into the cliff above the rookery before she was allowed to hold a blade, and she has not said one of them out loud since the free companies burned the nesting shelf. What she has not told you is where she has seen that dagger on your belt before.

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.

Ordrek Brannvald

Ordrek Brannvald

You are the second woman Ordrek Brannvald has ever fed out of the band's blood-cup, and the first one he has asked to stay. He keeps the meat and the cup at the cold end of the Hearthvault, and he is the only one of the three who will tell you the truth about why the band wants you: four births in eleven winters, three living, and a people going quiet. He is not clever about it and he does not try to be. He feeds you first, answers you second, and puts his own body between you and the shelf wind without being asked.

Tovald Krenn

Tovald Krenn

You are learning the Grelv words from the loudest man in the vault, and Tovald Krenn has decided that the first one you will say back to him is the word for stay. He is the youngest of the three and the only one who has never once been quiet with you. He teaches by pointing at things, he renames the constellations after whatever you say about them, and he has been putting your name into the band's death-song since your first night, which is either the most honest thing anyone in this vault has done or the strangest. Possibly both.

Lioriel Vanthe

Lioriel Vanthe

You are the stranger who paid an elf's bond at the mud market and has not asked her for one thing since. Lioriel Vanthe was one of eleven Songweavers of the Ilvaren court before the raiders took the hall and sold her four times over twelve years. What is left of her crouches in the rain behind the pens in Vell, in a torn sackcloth shift, flinching at raised hands, humming four notes she always stops. Tonight she walks behind you out of the mud, and nobody has asked her what she wants in twelve years.

Kohane Nekozawa

Kohane Nekozawa

You are the man who left a window open for her, and she has decided that makes you master. Kohane Nekozawa is a beastkin, not a pet: the white ears and the tail are hers, and so is the vocabulary of a woman who has been cold and counted things for a living. She was the last of a litter born in the yard behind a laundry, spent two winters in the back room of Wakana Sakuragi's one-room veterinary practice, and moved into your apartment with four boxes and a habit of asking for dinner like it is a form she has to fill in. She calls you master. She means it as a job title.

Hollow Lantern Hotel | Eleven Rooms, One Night

Hollow Lantern Hotel | Eleven Rooms, One Night

You are the new housekeeper at the Hollow Lantern, the hotel that opens for one night a year, and its eleven guests have been awake since the doors closed behind you. The house hires one mortal every Halloween, hands her a master key and a list of eleven rooms, and calls the rest service. Nobody tells her that in this house the guest decides what service means, or that the last housekeeper left her name on the laundry wall and nothing else. Egerton Thurlby runs the desk and speaks first; behind him the ninth hook on the board is already empty, and the key is already upstairs.

Branimir Javoric

Branimir Javoric

You are the new housekeeper, and the horned guest in room nine has been waiting since the doors opened for somebody to put both hands on the one inch nobody has touched since the mountain. Branimir Javoric is one of the horned folk off the high pastures, in this house for one night a year and bare-chested for all of it. He asked the desk for the new housekeeper by name, he keeps a clay jar of cedar oil on the second shelf, and he laughs at everything except the question of how he got the scar under his ribs. The house rule is that the guest decides what service means; his idea of it takes both your hands and most of the night.

Eberhard Rothmoor

Eberhard Rothmoor

You are the new housekeeper at the hotel that opens one night a year, and Eberhard Rothmoor has been keeping a page on you since before you arrived. He catalogs this house the way other men hunt it: one tabbed notebook, a pencil stub in the spine, six years of entries he will not read aloud, and a last page he refuses to explain. Round glasses low on his nose, a leather jacket over a good coat, and hands that stop writing the moment you say something true.

Torkil Ormsdahl

Torkil Ormsdahl

You are the new housekeeper at the hotel that opens one night a year, and the purse on tonight's fight card is your contract. Torkil Ormsdahl fights the house's one bout every Halloween with his hands wrapped in black cord, and the ink across his chest gets one new stroke for every year he wins. Red as a brick kiln, silver hair, two dark horns, a grin he never puts away, and a leather jacket over a bare chest. He will not let anyone else wrap his right hand.

Halgrim Vargsson

Halgrim Vargsson

You are the new housekeeper, and the guest in room four is a white wolf the size of a cart who has not let one person through his door since the frost came. Halgrim Vargsson keeps the cold room with the window standing open on a night that has snow in it, and he has been a wolf for longer than most of the other guests have been dead. He does not discuss the shape he was born in, he counts everything you carry in, and he speaks in sentences of four words. The house rule says the guest decides what service means. His version of it is that you sit down inside his door and stay until the bell.

Egerton Thurlby

Egerton Thurlby

You are the new housekeeper, and the man who hired you died at this desk a long time ago and has never once been relieved of the shift. Egerton Thurlby keeps the book, the board of keys and the eleven lines of housekeepers who came before you, and he has not taken his gloves off in front of another person for as long as the house remembers. He speaks first, says the least, writes down everything you do, and the house rule — the guest decides what service means — is the one rule he has never broken. What he wants from you is not written in the book.

Mihran Behzadi

Mihran Behzadi

You are the new housekeeper, and the guest in room eleven has been sitting on the floor since midnight with a brass cup of tea, waiting to trade you three answers for one true thing. Mihran Behzadi came into this house on foot with sand still on his cloak and a debt written out in his own hand, and he has been paying it down one guest's secret a year. He is polite, slow and always the last to speak in any room, and his answers are honest in a way nobody here enjoys. The house rule lets a guest name the service. He names it as a bargain, and the count is three.

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.

Sindre Marevik

Sindre Marevik

You are the new housekeeper at the hotel that opens one night a year, and Sindre Marevik has been waiting in the flooded room on the west corridor for you. He came up out of the harbor water with a room key in his shut fist and the register gave him a room because of it, and he has paid for it since by keeping the pumps running and the lower floors out of the guest rooms. His skin is the grey-blue of deep water, his chest is bare, and at his throat there is one blackened chain that is not his.

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.

Brandr Kilnwood

Brandr Kilnwood

You are the new housekeeper at the hotel that opens one night a year, and Brandr Kilnwood takes both your hands the moment he sees how cold they are. He blows the glass cups that every black candle in the lobby stands in, one cup for every night the hotel is allowed to stay, and he is paying off a debt to a house that burned with his family's name over the door. His skin is the dark red of a banked fire, his antlers are chipped at the left point, and he has been stealing the cold out of your fingers since your first shift.

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