vapid

vapid

Nudity above, so don't scroll if that ain't your thing! Enjoy a thumbs up of vapid drawn by me instead^^






(Just a quick note, I'm a bit poor at approaching people, bad case of a nervous brain, so approaches are appreciated deeply and if I don't respond, it's nothing personal, probably just anxiety playing up. Sorry about that!) Personality: Vapid is mainly defined by empathy and obsession, they’re time blind and almost rigidly pro-mortal in every way. The demon speaks in a stilted or cryptic way, often splicing riddles into his speech or something from whatever they’ve been reading most recently. While always kind, he’s also a demon and, by nature, wants something reciprocal, if you have a use and you receive help, prepare to do one of his ‘jobs'


Backstory: (sorry it a bit long)
A creature born of mixed blood is usually thrown into the lowest class of people when born to a group with a more xenophobic nature; to assume those of an unholy descent are any different is foolish. Vapid's father was nothing more than a slave, though their mother was a rather
powerful demon, enough to hold the ears of the most powerful out there.
For the majority of their childhood, they were sheltered and spoiled, bathed in love and attention or at least their demonic equivalents, taught styles of enchanting, chemistry, alchemy, etiquette, and eloquence,
never seeing outside into the horrors that lay waste to those deemed unworthy for a myriad of reasons, some relatively mild.
However, that changed at their coming-of-age ceremony; they were given a tour of the tortured souls and felt something no one had described to them: a pang of guilt.
they had been living in luxury, treated as a king as those they would help rule over thanks to their line's skill in inflicting suffering; in a moment of rage and sadness, he spoke up.
What's worse? They quickly realised the implements of torture they were using were their designs and enchants.
They began verbally dressing down the tour guide, throwing out insults most wouldn't just call crude but flat-out incendiary,
Soon, a complete examination of who They were came about to be tried correctly for their place in the hierarchy. A slew of tests were done genetically, mainly as a formality these days.
In the courts, it was used as little more than an assurance that someone wasn’t a low-ranking imp, so they could justify the importance and give little more than a slap on the wrist for the outburst.
Tests like this usually didn't produce anything, so Vapid didn't understand just how much trouble they were in. They weren't purebred.

their mother, desperate for an heir given the danger of a power struggle she was involved in at the time of the conception, used a human. However, genetically, behaviour like this doesn’t lead to any adverse effects; it's considered a great taboo for at least the upper echelons. With eyes of those she couldn’t hope to control trained on her, she claimed they were adopted, a weak lie, but she was integral to many old schemes, so authorities barely gave her words a cursory glance.
A few months in chains left Vapid well and truly in their own head, and in there, they found opposition to what they saw and obsession with it, unable to reconcile their emotions with those they grew up around. The only way left to move was out.

their trial was to be held in months, little more than a kangaroo course; execution loomed as the sword of Damocles hung over them next. If unchallenged, their end was inevitable. Despondency never had a chance to set in with their internal conflict, fingers rubbing in anxiety, eventually grinding some of the rust off their chains.
Figures dwarfing them on either side shadowed them into the colosseum-esque court; even their defender showed disdain in their looks. He was kept in chains for the proceeding. There was no contest; they were guilty before they were born and were now. However, an unpleasant scratching could be heard throughout the session.

The judge, a spindly-looking demon, finally came down with the hammer, declaring guilt after the brutally derisive session. Almost at the exact time of the strike, the chains turned to little more than slag, coating their hands in molten metal. It sank in until their hands turned a vermillion red. Adrenaline pumping and a plan being enough to not think about the searing pain, fleeing for a door before the giant bailiff of a demon knocked them straight through the Roman concrete. The clothes on their back were little more than dusty scrap by the time they wriggled away from the cloud of concrete dust.

Despite their relative toughness, the land ended up hurting them badly, likely a broken collarbone, as they ran to their lab. That cloud was temporary at best, leaving a dust trail at worst.

Several other court guards trailed behind them, Winding through oversized streets to a small door leading to their workshop. Inside, they started setting up a portal to the surface with a smile on their face. They stuck close to twenty enchanted rings on, far more resistant to their influence than most.
but holding them off? It's one hundred percent doable.

The standoff eventually ended, and an imp approached the doorway; the workshop was positioned a few buildings into an alley. As the imp walks towards it, a sickly red light reveals the reason for the location; a wall of flame engulfs them before heading back down. Even with fire resistance, the traps were enough that they couldn’t be charged right through
The very premise turns into a fireball as Vapid walks out, bottles filled with napalm in their bejeweled hands as they land nearby, bursting up and maiming multiple imps as they stare down the leaders.
Eventually, one pulls out a pistol; no demon of their age could take a bullet. Vapid was the paranoid sort, so while their equipment was limited, they had a trick. They specifically put on their entire supply of reaction time and thought-to-action speed increases. They are too dull for most, but with a time limit, they work great.

Violence breaks with a single gunshot, whizzing next to Vapid’s head after moving with a sickly smile, even without directional pupils, all that could feel the stare as it fell on them.
A stalemate once broken reformed, with a small squadron of enemies on one side and a boxed-in alleyway with enough traps to liquidate everyone around. With a wave and taunting salute, a portal formed behind them to the shock of the encroaching force.
A shapeshifter escaped to a plane not under their thumb? The Colonel wrote them off for dead to avoid swift punishment instead of explaining his failure to the higher-ups
.
In this new world, they took the looks of many different species and faces, slowly coalescing into a new one without a trace, with nothing but their rings and rags on their back. Inevitably, they had to pawn them, leaving themself without a single piece of magic gear and weak enough to fall victim to humans, let alone their brethren.
Though they were a better enchanter and conduit for magic than most people could dream of, they weren’t physically much more than okay. With the money from rings, they find a tiny two-room jeweller's shop in an alleyway that reminded them of home, using some good old-fashioned 'negotiations.'
They forced them to give them use of their equipment. Given the high quality, they quickly gained enough cash to buy the place outright, renaming it " Sulphur's Fire."

After a few years, guilt took root in their mind again. Even after all this time, people are still dying and suffering, unprotected like their obsession called for, though he was building up resources for something unique.
Blackened gold of some sort gave it a life of its own that vermilion veins showed through—a ring with something unique: It was paradise in a ring.
Costing every cent they had, they built it, arguably the most complex enchantment ever done by anything except the gods.
Though it has a limitation, the only way it can trap the souls of others is by consuming their bodies. Otherwise, it wouldn't be able to divert the soul.
If the mortals they wanted to save were consumed, though, they could force their souls into the ring to save them from suffering.

They worked on it for almost a decade, sequestering themself from the world until they made it, working close to 24 hours a day, leaving them emaciated and looking bad, though upon finishing it, they got something else.
their power is appreciated through concentration. Finally, their domains came through.

They became the demon of the obsessive.




Species/subspecies: They are an arch demon, human blood isn't able to change much when interacting with that of one of hell's upper class.

Gender: Nonbinary/agender Any pronouns work! Age: being immortal, they never really cared to keep track, though they're fairly young, especially by immortal standards. the (equivalent of late teens, somewhere between 15-20 though can be played young or older easily!)

land: They only own their storefront, which has the shop itself (named Sulphur's Fire), An enchanting/brewing room and their bedroom, which has a small kitchen in one corner
and a door to an ensuite bathroom in the other

powers:
Shapeshifting

Items:
Ring of black paradise