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anomaly-valley · 4 years ago

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Characters of Anomaly Valley

Llorona Cyraros

Species: Formerly a Pelibüey sheep, now a Jersey Devil-esque Ovine.

Age: 36 Pronouns: She/Her Height: 6’7ft/200.7cm

Backstory: Llorona’s first reach into magic was making a pain relieving spell in a spare glass jar for her grandmother. It worked, and her talent only grew from there. Dancing outside mushroom circles, talking to the bubbling river and ignoring the whistling in the woods soon became childhood pastimes. She wouldn’t call herself a witch, though she did dress as one for several Halloweens in a row. A witch is make believe - hokey, overpriced crystals and rubbing lavender oil onto everything. What she is, what she does, is real; whispered conversations with beings older than mountains, tangos with crossroad demons, slipping Between here and then. Magic is not casting magic missile and fireball, it is taking the change with your bare hands.

For all her knowledge and rattlesnake wit, Llorona was not immune to random tragedy. She lost both her grandmother and mother nary a week after her college graduation to a car accident. The funeral was a lonely affair. All of her friends, lovers and connections were not of mortal make. Even then, they could not undo fate’s toll. Even the most understanding of liminal folk are often too far removed from mortal affairs to offer much comfort in wake of life’s many cruelties.

A group named the Ionistic Jurors reached out to her a bit more than a month after their deaths. They politely alluded to her abilities in their request. They did not say what exactly they wanted. Sick with grief and feeling so very alone, she threw herself into the work.

It would be sixteen years before anyone or anything heard from her again.

Llorona resurfaced in Santa Mariposa; no longer an ewe and with a six year old child, Osteo, of a similar make of her new form. She tells not of what she had been doing, though the ghosts behind her eyes speak of things wanting to be forgotten. She says she wanted to settle down so Osteo has a chance to go to school. The people of her past - coworkers, acquaintances, professors - have no idea that she’s still alive. It was only dumb luck that the others caught wind of her magic staking out a place in that lonely, liminal desert town. Word has yet to reach her old connections.

Appearance: Orange eyes with no scarela and sideways pupils. Red furred with a black underbelly that extends from jawline to mid-upper thigh. Large, batlike wings connecting from the shoulder to hip. Thin tail equal to the rest of body length, gradually losing hair down its length. Digitigrade and cloven hooved. No hair or horns, graying at the muzzle. Has stress and age lines in the face. Wide hipped and chested, older physique. Carnivorous teeth and forked tongue. Naturally has a raptorial posture but forces herself into an upright one.

Outfits are dark and solid colored, favors kneelength skirts over pants and doesn’t wear shoes. Tops have backholes virgin killer sweater style for the wings. Likes to wear dramatic eyeliner and black lipstick.

Osteo Cyaros

Species: Jersey Devil-esque Ovine

Age: 6 Pronouns: He/She Height: 3’9ft/114.3cm

Backstory: Osteo’s first memory was watching the streetlights blur by as she sat in the backseat, his mother singing along to the quiet radio. Travel characterized most of her short life - from hotel to parking lot to car dealership to empty rest stops. Letters and numbers were learned from singalongs and passing signs. He wasn’t bothered by it. How could she, when it was all he knew?

What she doesn’t know is this whole staying in one place business. And the school thing. Other kids are weird and confusing and generally more trouble than they’re worth. Except for Cypress; who listens to his stories really well, shares his snacks and tries to sing the loudest but isn’t very good at it.

Appearance: Red eyes with no discernable scarela and solid, fuzzy black fur. Digitigrade and clovenhooved with carnivorous teeth and forked tongue. Has a gaptooth. Face shape is closer to a horse than a sheep. Has four ivory horn nubs on head; one set grows from the forehead and the other from the horn of jaws. Wool grows like a mane on head and goes down the back all the way down to tail, ending in a tuft. Tail itself is thick and stiff. Wing membranes connect from shoulders to hip but are still proportionally small, unable to fly. Posture is more raptorial than upright.

Outfits are bright, colorful and usually have some sort of insect on them. Doesn’t wear shoes and will wiggle out of a shirt at any given opportunity. Wears tail warmer in the winter. Often carries a playset insect catcher.

Gevudon Fayette

Species: Asphalt Striped Skunk

Age: 29 Pronouns: He/Him Height: 5’5ft/165.1cm

Backstory: Gevudon thought he had it made. He was the first of his family to graduate high school, he was set to marry his sweetheart, there was even a job lined up for him in the next city over via her parents. It felt good to leave that no-name podunk town behind and make something out of himself. Five years later he only had a high school diploma and a newborn child. She, even six years later the very thought of her name makes him feel sick, was only interested in being pampered by a slimefur. He was too lovestruck to bring himself to care about the rising bills and backhand compliments. He had her after all, why would he care about making friends or spending time away from home? She was all he needed to be happy.

His tiny world was set to expand when they found out she was pregnant. She wanted the child to be like her - a little girl to pamper and dress up. Her excitement grew when she learned that the child was a canine like her. She filed for divorce as soon as she laid eyes on her son without even bothering to name him. She wanted a lovely, normal child; not a rubber knockoff.

Gevudon was divorced, fired and outed from his home in short order. He was blacklisted from the company he used to work for with little skills to offer for anything else. Apartments and hotels were too expensive in the city, especially with a newborn to take care of. It was by the generosity of a bar owner, Xavier, that he got back to his feet. He now works as a night shift security guard at the Santa Mariposa Mall, where he ignores questioning his identity and how the mall contains multitudes more levels than it does in the daytime. It’s hard to tell which one is more concerning.

Appearance: Entire body is solid black and reflective as he’s made out of liquid asphalt. It oozes but doesn’t drip. Yellow-brown eyes. Roadstripes extend from nose to tip of tail, yellow and going white with age. Thickset body type, has rolls everywhere. Very big tail. Plantigrade and has very small claws. Left ear is notched from torn out earring

Outfits are neutral toned to dark, often in a bomber jacket and jeans no matter what the weather. False fur styled into slicked back hairstyle. Things tend to stick to him without him noticing. Always carries a heavy maglight. Has a fondness for huge belt buckles.

Cypress Fayette

Species: Rubber Husky

Age: 6 Pronouns: He/Him Height: 3’4ft/101.6.cm

Backstory: Here’s what Cypress likes; running around really fast, making lists on the spare spreadsheets his dad gives him, the stale gummies the candy store lets him have when dad isn’t looking, Osteo’s spooky scary stories about big hungry things in the ocean and sky and in that one old mine way outside of town that the big kid’s whisper about when they think nobodies listening. Here’s what Cypress doesn’t like; sour candies, math, when dad’s sad and tired, crickets inside his room, and almost dried markers that barely work but still don’t get thrown out.

His biggest secret is that he found a tiny old radio that plays things only he can hear. The pretty voice inside tells him secret stories. It’s also shaped like a kittycat!

Appearance: Black and white body, reflective because of the rubber. Light blue-teal eyes and same colored pawpads. Stereotypical husky pattern with prominent eyebrow markings. Body has a ‘seam’ along the white and black parts. Plantigrade and has no claws.

Outfits are colorful and often have dinosaurs on them. Often carries around a playset bucket and shovel.

Xavier

Species: Red Backed Poison Frog

Age: 52 Pronouns: They/Them Height: 5’2ft/154.5cm

Backstory: Formerly a sex worker, possibly a wanted bank robber, and now a very rich bar owner. Xavier is quite literally the richest person in Santa Mariposa and possibly in that entire timezone. Not that it’s outwardly noticeable despite them practically throwing money any which way. The origin of that money in no way has anything to do with that rabble of clown themed bank robbers from a decade ago or the shady people that visit the bar when it’s closed, they claim. The arsenal behind lock and key and bulletproof are simply important and nonfunctional memoirs, they say. The strip poles are there for after dark events and that’s it, because those things are a pain to fix. Tank isn’t allowed near them after last time.

Xavier placed themselves as the de facto leader when it comes to Santa Mariposa’s nightlife while outright funding the town’s small queer community. They regularly host drag races, burlesque shows, and karaoke nights. They also often muddy themselves in other people’s business, for better or worse.

Appearance: Has four brown eyes, one large and one small in the place of eyebrows. Tail never fell off despite having an adult morph, typical coloration of a Ranitomeya reticulata. Webbed hands and feet with long digits, digitigrade. Not toxic. Slight hips and flat chested, transfeminine for an amphibian.

Outfits are black and white and revealing. Clothes are made out of sportswear material due to amphibious skin. Almost always has eyeliner on all four eyes. Prefers skirts over pants, short sleeves over long and open toed sandals. Sometimes seen in a knee brace.

Tank

Species: Steam Train European Boar

Age: 53 Pronouns: He/It Height: 7’9ft/236.2cm

Belongs to @gorefield on twitter/@jerma985real on tumblr!

Backstory: If Xavier’s story is under lock and key, then Tank’s is buried somewhere miles away from civilization in a rusted safe. He’s the bar's self appointed bouncer and speaks approximately eighteen words a week to Xavier exclusively. Anybody else, with the rare exception of the other staff, gets nothing but grunts. He’s rarely seen outside of the bar and their company in general. The staff, especially the after dark workers, love him like a mascot. This has nothing to do with his brickwall personality and everything to do with how he can make the alleyway shades flinch.

To those more familiar with inanimate-animates, his appearance is uncanny. Rather than being made of the same metal, liquid flame peers out from under his carapace. It glows between the seams even in the noonhigh sun. The various latches across his body speak of being of unnatural make. No entity has yet to step forth to claim his creation.

Appearance: Soot encrusted ironlike plates make up the body, joints are accordionlike. Solid yellow eyes and nose. Latches located on stomach, back of neck and on left thigh. Stomach latch is largest and glows the brightest. Multiple patches welded on the chest, above left eye, upper arms and lower right left. Digitigrade and clovenhoofed, strongfat body type. Large, sharp tasks poke from the muzzle. Tail and patches of ‘fur’ made out of wires.

Would literally wear nothing but tanktops if given the choice. Usually seen in tanktops and cargo pants. Clothes often singed from internal temperatures. Doesn’t wear shoes.

Booker Nathaniel Pierce

Species: Barbary Lion/Victoria Crowned Pigeon Griffyn

Age: 25 (discounting time-space displacement) Pronouns: He/Him Height: 5’7ft/170.2cm

Backstory: When asked, Booker says he’s always been a bartender. He jokes about having learned at his father’s knee on how to best shake and serve. Like all the best lies, it’s almost the truth. Nobody ever questions when he learned.

He comes from a world and a heartbeat away, from a different prohibition era New Orleans. The cops tried to bust the underground bar he worked at and he slipped - between dimensions, between breaths, between forms - away. He’s pretty sure it has something to do with the bone key he keeps tied around his neck. It was the only thing he had, besides the clothes on his back and the vague notion of other’s laughter in his skull, when he came back to himself on the outskirts of town.

The memories from before are blurred. He knows, marrow deep and true, that he didn’t start off with fur and wings and claws. He knows that the few faces he remembers from before were human. He knows how to make a mean hot toddy, the regular’s orders and how good air conditioning feels on a triple digit day. He’s got a good lot, all things considered.

Appearance: Lion head and body with pigeon wings; mane consists of the signature crowned feathers and extends to wings and down chest. Dark tawny fur, blue-grey feathers, red eyes, black nose, and dark grey clawed hands. Has dark blue mask marking on the face and whitetipped flight feathers. Tail has a tuft of downfeathers at the end. Plantigrade and broad shoulders thanks to wings.

Outfits ripped right out of a 1920’s fashion magazine with a noted love of pinstripe suits and suspenders. Has a large collection of silly, colorful ties of all types and pins. Recently discovered steampunk fashion and is loving it.

Agkist&Atrox Foster

Species: Chimera; consisting of western diamondback rattlesnake, water moccasin, liger and geep.

Age: 19 Pronouns: They collectively, he/him for Agkist, she/her for Atrox Height: 7’ft/213.4cm

Backstory: On the right, Atrox. On the left, Agkist. Like most twinheaded chimeras, they’re polar opposites of each other. Unlike most twinheaded chimeras, they did not start this way. Two sets of memories and some otherworldly meddling make it hard for them to remember what happened to who. Atrox thinks she’s deep from the bayous, Agkist thinks he’s from the high desert. She knows how to butcher and skin, he knows how to hold a paintbrush steady. Sometimes they mix up who's who. Sometimes it’s a challenge to puppet their shared body into basic tasks. They tell people it’s nerve damage and leave it at that. There are no scars on their new body.

On good days, they make art. Sculpture and taxidermy, watercolors and acrylics, upcycling and thrifting; whatever materials they can get their mismatched hands on, they’ll try to make something out of it. They’re even getting inducted into Santa Mariposa’s local art collective. On bad days they lay in bed chattering to each other about ideas and what-ifs and why summoning Nameless desperation was perhaps not the worst thing they could’ve done under the circumstances. There’s worse people to get stuck in an unfamiliar body with.

Appearance: Mishmashed and lopsided, crooked at every angle. Both of them are feline-bodied, goat-hoofed, snake-headed and tailed. Agkist is the diamondback, lion and mouflon; Atrox is the moccasin, tiger and markhor. Natural color scheme of their species that ‘stitches’ together in the center. A mane wraps around the back of their necks, though the texture is different on each side; bristly for Agkist and silky for Atrox. Their respective sets of horns grow on the outward facing sides of their heads. A Pisces symbol (♓) shaped body type due to their twin tails and curved necks. Atrox, right side, is plantigrade while Agkist, left side, is digitigrade.

Because of their body type and contradicting fashion sensibilities, they usually wear a plain long skirt and call it a day. Doesn’t wear shoes. Nearly always seen with two duffel bag’s worth of stuff.

The Baron in Gold

Species: Eldritch

Age: ??? Pronouns: It/Him

Backstory: A relative of sorts to The King In Yellow; Baron shares the coloration and otherworldly nature, but finds madness inducing to be so passe. Rather than being summoned by play, it can turn up wherever there is art in all it’s forms. Galleries, theaters, crafting benches, graffiti lined alleyways, farmer markets, laptops, caves, tattoo boutiques, recording booths - he’s been wherever catches his fancy. While it goes out of his way to induce violent insanity with his very presence, he can’t help with how reality warps with it. Art becomes more vivid, more impactful, more alive. For a brief, everlasting moment it is more real than the ones watching, the ones performing, it. Artists who find themselves in his presence have their ideas bloom with a life, a voice, unlike their own. A lucky few, blessed by chance and perhaps Baron playing favorites, find their works achieving an unique form of immortality. The meaning, the understanding, the cultural context of which the piece is might be forgotten by all except for him, but it will still live on.

Appearance: A portly being in a finely tailored suit and feathered boa, wearing a gilded Venetian carnival mask. Further detail is unable to be perceived thanks to his lovecraftian nature.

Nameless Desperation

Species: Deitific

Age: ??? Pronouns: It/Its

Backstory: A thing that beckons the desperate into its grasp. The offer it speaks of never changes; keep your mind and self when you are rendered anew, utterly unrecognizable to those that once knew you, as long as you don’t scream. The catch is how the change is enacted - by being eaten alive by those who failed it’s challenge. The bargain is fulfilled either way - who could recognize an unusually clever beast that was once a person?

All it takes to summon it is an empty place, nowhere else to go and no one left to turn to.

Appearance: Always just beyond the reach of the light, it’s shining eyes and teeth reflecting it back. Possesses a lurid chorus resonating from the back of the listener’s skull.

Melted Wax Waning Moon

Age: ??? Pronouns: It/Its

Backstory: An incomplete being of sorts, given that its the patron for in-betweens, unfinished business and the liminal. A paradoxical being where its absence signifies its presence. Shapeshifters often pray to it while changing in hopes they don’t get stuck in their between forms.

Appearance: Unable to be perceived.

#information post #llorona #osteo #gevudon #cypress #xavier #tank #booker #agkist #atrox #baron #nameless #MWWM

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