It's been a long time coming, but I've finally got all the bits and pieces together ready to show off the main members of Our DoomsDei (the main story and universe I'm working on). So for this week I'll be sharing the profiles of our six (twelve) leads; the hapless human vessels, and the old forgotten gods that took an interest in them. Hope you enjoy. ^^

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Sammy

Details

Full Name: Sammy Chay (Chay Sung)
Age: 29
Pronouns: She/Her
Height: 5’1”
Job Status: Front Desk Secretary for Enygmas Stock Solutions
Relationship Status: Single (Divorced)

Profile

Unerringly polite and impeccably nice whenever spoken to, quiet as a mouse whenever out of sight, and overall demure, proper and a fine example to all; Sammy’s got the whole deal sussed. With a bookish demeanour – not so bookish as to seem smarter than the rest of the room – and a soft smile – only a soft one mind, god forbid she allow herself to be visibly happy – she manages to coast through a simple life and a stressful job with little aggravation.

It’s a balancing act, for sure. So much so that it’s often easier for Sammy to stay in the calm mindset even on her own or with people she trusts – not that she trusts anyone enough to fully let her guard down, even amongst the other vessels. But in many ways, it suits her to live a solitary life; finding relaxation in simplicity, surrounded only by cheap mail-order throw cushions, and her two favouritest fluffy people in the world by her side.

There’s always the little things; offhand comments, the creeping workloads, the Ex and the House Situation. But they’re just small niggles really. All she needs to do is keep her head down and her lips shut, and life will work itself out. It will. It definitely will.

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Gwphrech

Details

Names: Coppertongue, Storm Caller, Gwph
Pronunciation: GUV-rec
Pronouns: She/Her
Height: 6’9”
Attributes: War, Storms, Seasons, Harvest, Sex, Stimulation, The Hunt
Emblems: Copper, straw, wool, spun fibre, charcoal, dead leaves

Profile

A thousand years in slumber should have done wonders for Gwphrech’s temperament, but that neglects one thing; that’s left a thousand years of unfulfilled prayers, promises and commitments that have worn on her mind for all that time. And that’s not good for somebody as conscientious as she is. A lot’s gone wrong in the world in her absence. Her vessel’s situation is just the start; there’s a whole lot of unwilling soldiers out there who need their prayers answered, and pronto.

Dedicated and ambitious she may be, but Gwphrech’s far from a maverick. She’s thorough, conscientious, and a stickler for The Rules. Be it a midsummer squall or a passionate display of love, she never puts anything less than her all in and refuses to rely on cheap shortcuts and gadgets to get what she needs.

Even her reliance on the other gods is limited; while she has respect for all of them she refuses to upgrade to modern ways of working, with a particular chip on her shoulder about technology. This often puts her at odds with Criech and his wide-reaching network, and is determined to prove to him that her traditions are more valid than his schemes. The world has been overdue a mighty storm to remind the populace of what it meant to respect the world they live in, and Gwphrech is gathering her legions to bring that storm into being once more.

Idol

Gwphrech is the only one of the gods to require a physical payment, her traditional ways still in place. The most complete directions are found in only a couple of archaic carvings, with the following loose translation:

“Three blades of straw, forged firm from midday sun, drawn crimson with blood from your left palm. Do not dry them from the hearth, for she will know your resilience is false. “
“Five crimson leaves, colour as rust, rent by the wind and caught before touching the earth. Do not pull them from their home, for she will know that your patience is null.“
“The golden fur tuft from a wildcat, pulled from beating heart and lashing claw. Do not seek the kitten nor familiar, for she will know you are no hunter.”
“Still-white ash from the hearth, bore from your left hand, for she will see you are desperate.”
“Torn hair from your brow, for she will see you are raging.”
“Woven by the left hand only, twisted, marred and scratched, for she will see you are wounded.”
“And for payment, but a single copper coin in the centre.”
“No more, no less.”
“That shall then guide you to her lap.”