[hider=Donovan the Devilish Deliveryman] [center] [color=DarkMagenta][h1]Name: Donovan Dozzannech[/h1][/color] [color=DarkMagenta][b]Age[/b][/color] 153 [hider=artwork][img]https://i.imgur.com/ihHibu0.jpg[/img][/hider] [color=DarkMagenta][b]Description[/b][/color] If you were to ask an expert in such matters, Donovan would be labeled as a greater imp. Donovan’s society is generally much too busy to worry about such petty distinctions and so Donovan is awkwardly slapped over the nebulous category of devil. Some devils have spectacular powers that make even the starfaring humans of their reality quake in fear. Donovan does not. All the ‘power’ he has to his name is being deft at navigating the convoluted and sprawling architecture of his celestial realm (a talent now rendered mostly useless) and the ability to run pretty a fair bit faster than his size/frame would suggest he can (something that will likely be absolutely vital to his survival). Physically, Donovan is rather short and slim and with a mostly human appearance, minus a pair of pointed ears, slightly more prominent canines, and a slight reddish-purplish tint to his skin. His eyes are sapphire, his black mussy hair is neck length and curls slightly. He doesn't actually have any biology to his system, and will never be struck down by old age, but he needs the same essentials of life as a human regardless, and can bleed (a dust like ‘essence’ in his case, rather than actual blood) and die all the same. He is also capable of being bound by geas and pacts as part of his celestial nature, which if done will physically compel him to obey them. Your typical anti-demonic affairs are also very dangerous to him, though they are mostly unnecessary seeing as a simple steel sword will end his life just as easily as a blade of demonslaying. He is dressed in a slick, well kept black and blue messenger’s uniform made of some fantastic/futuristic material whose main draws are being marvelously stain, weather and crease resistant. It comes complete with a stylish cap and a small mail bag containing various letters (mostly formal exchanges and work documents, but also containing one scandalous love letter) and a few small parcels of little importance. [color=DarkMagenta][b]Origin[/b][/color] Donovan is a celestial messenger, or to give him a more accurate and less prestigious sounding title, a glorified postman. Technology and magic might produce wonders, but sometimes you just need a bunch of people to run around delivering packages, letters and the odd Petabyte of data storage via sneakernet. That and having the people in charge live forever if not killed can lead to leaders that keep archaic systems around because they are comfortable with them (generations of frustrated young people have tried to teach the likes of Asmodeus how email works, to absolutely no avail). Thus, the messengers are still part of the lifeblood of the celestial bureaucracy to this day. Donovan specifically is a department runner, the lowest of the bunch, who jogs through the endless halls of his local bureaucracy department (who handle the [url=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epsilon_Eridani]Epsilon Eridani[/url] star system), delivering and collecting mail to and from its many, many workers-residents. [color=DarkMagenta][b]Background[/b][/color] The days of demonic lords squabbling for power over a broken realm of fire and brimstone are long, long gone. Such an inefficient system could not withstand the onslaught of work needing to be done when humanity's pustulant growth reached 7 billion, let alone the tens of billions spawned by the rise of arcologies or the hundreds of billions as the jumped up monkeys took to the stars in force. The old feudal system of power is dead and with it has died the strife of gods, spirits, angels and devils, all of them now buried beneath the unending stacks of paperwork of the celestial bureaucracy. As the mortals squabble among the stars, the bureaucracy keeps track of every soul, sin, sacrifice and salvation. To what end is unclear to lowly workers like Donovan, and quite possibly the truth has in fact been lost somewhere in the bureaucracy’s endless archives, but that doesn't mean there isn't work to be done. There are lives to catalog, judgements to be rendered, interdepartmental feuds to wage and, running through it all, endless amounts of mail to deliver. [color=DarkMagenta][b]Outlook[/b][/color] Donovan is not a fan of being ripped away from his old reality. He was only a cog in an incomprehensibly large machine back home, it's true, but he did at least feel something of a purpose back there, one that his abduction into this other realm has interrupted by preventing him from completing the delivery run he seems to have been on before his kidnapping. He doesn't remember starting his daily run, or being given the mail he currently carries, but it is there, and so should be delivered. Plus, as with anyone, or at least most people, he had friends and family back home that he will never see again which sucks, even if the memory of them is a touch hazy at the moment. The infinite caverns of the Underynth meanwhile are at least not entirely alien to him, being comparable to some of the older and wilder bits of the celestial realm. You could almost convince the delivery devil he’d simply wound up in some out of the way part of his home realm if it weren't the inter-dimensional detritus and denizens littering the place. The same can't be said of the settlements, which pale in compression to the bureaucracy's sprawling arcologies within which a being could live an eternity of productive comfort without ever worrying about what lay beyond it's walls. To live in the Underynth is to stoop to a level primitiveness never even considered by most of those of Donovan's reality. [color=DarkMagenta][b]Personality[/b][/color] Donovan is driven and energetic to the point of having difficulty sitting still. He bonds quickly but rarely deeply with others. A touch vain. He’s seen a lot of strange things, but also hasn't been in much danger in his life which can lead him to underestimate threats while also being more open and fairly quick to adapt to new things. He is honest and committed, something compelled by his nature. He will follow through on deals, strive to keep his commitments even if doing so might seem foolish and is nearly incapable of lying. He only has a basic grasp of the old demonic cunning and conniving his ancestors and the still living old guard used to get around this flaw. [color=DarkMagenta][b]Greatest Dream[/b][/color] Like many, Donovan wants back out, both for himself and because he has mail that still needs to be delivered. This second might seem strange, but both his kind’s nature and the outlook of his society cause a level of commitment to purpose that can at times seem irrational to mere mortals. Failing that, Donovan dream was to become a celestial courier, a rank several steps above simple messenger. These valued beings were trusted with the most vital communications and traveling the most dangerous of routes, generally those that went from star to star (a trip that in the celestial realm was much shorter, but also much busier and dangerous due to being home to things best left unthought of. This incidentally was the method of FTL for his reality’s humans as well, who would pop in and out of it in their vast ships of science and sorcery). The scattered settlements of the Underynth no doubt require the same kind of daring deliveries so he can, to an extent, plug his prior ambitions into his current situation with only a bit of effort mentally, and a whole heap of effort physically. [color=DarkMagenta][b]Greatest Fear[/b][/color] Donovan had never actually met a mortal before and now that he has, and now that he is among them in what is functionally in the ‘base’ lawyer of a reality, the old stories about demonic bindings and servitude have crept their way into his mind. He really, really, really does not want to meet any kind of demonologist or any other kind of mage with knowledge of his kind, for fear that they will bind him and force him to do their bidding. He also does not want to lose or damage his mail. That would be a disgrace to his profession. [color=DarkMagenta][b]Misc:[/b][/color] Items: Mail bag containing a day’s worth of deliveries, all of which are generally of little import due to his lowly station. Three small energy/nutrients drinks that can keep a person going for most of a day if rationed correctly. Used to fuel mail runs. Like with all energy drinks they are not a substitute for actual food. House key: a chunky fusion of metal, magic and machinery that opens his apartment’s door Wallet: Contains a general id, a work id, a debit card and a small amount of celestial currency. Tarot phone: A smartphone with the size and thickness of a playing card that was able to run off of ambient mana back home, but will need some magical fanjangaling to hook up to the Underynth’s own native mana field. It isn't doing too well functionality wise disconnected from the celestial bureaucracy’s internet equivalent either. [/center] [/hider]