Avaline Corvidae
Community Member
Avaline Corvidae RPC
Avaline “Ava” Corvidae

Vampire, formerly human

Sixteen going on 135.

Scotland – her surname was Dunning, until she had it changed.

None. Parents are long dead; never had any kids, and only took up with one young man.


98 lbs.

Characteristic Song:
Fear a Bhata


Elfin and fun-sized would be ideal words to use when attempting to describe Avaline’s general body shape. Her bust is not exceptionally generous for her size, but it does catch some eyes, and her thin waist complements her form quite nicely. Her face, on the other hand, is another matter entirely despite being framed in long, silky black hair, which is usually done up in a complex side-tail. Avaline’s face is hardly unsightly, but eternal undeath has not been kind to the vampire, lending her facial complexion a dark and perverse beauty that is more likely to incite fear rather than admiration.

Her skin is of a deathly pale complexion more akin to a porcelain doll than anything that has ever been alive, which is something most living humans find deeply unsettling; her cheeks, once full and flushed with life, are now gaunt and hollow shells of what they once were; even her eyes are not immune. As vibrant as their indigo hue is, they’ve sunken, giving her alluring almond-shaped eyes a sharp, feral look that only adds to her fearsome appearance, more so when she flashes a devilish lopsided grin as she is occasionally given to doing. Her fangs being clearly visible during these temporary flashes of emotion might have something to do with it, too.

Avaline is usually clad in a black tank top with spaghetti straps, bearing a lavender-colored emblem resembling fangs on the front, for obvious reasons. She frequently wears an off-black woolen sweater over this that hangs loosely off her shoulders. She sometimes wears black leggings and violet pantyhose, with a matching skirt and pair of boots, respectively; ordinarily, however, she prefers a pair of form-fitting black jeans and leather combat boots bedecked with studs and straps. The final piece of most any outfit she wears is a hair-pin shaped like a skull-and-crossbones, and, when not wearing her sweater, she can be seen with wide leather bracelets on, in black.


Avaline is generally quiet and keeps to herself, but that isn’t because she’s nervous, skittish, or shy. On the contrary, it’s due to boredom and a very laid-back personality that hides a gregarious, if slightly mad, girl. You never really know what she’s going to say when she opens her mouth, but more often than not, it’s friendly and insightful, and displays an open mind. Doesn’t stop her from saying some truly bewildering things, of course, and sometimes, she finds she is incapable of expressing her thoughts in a way that doesn’t sound crazy or stupid. She’s often the first in a group conversation to get lost, going on bizarre tangents or fixating on one single topic, and she usually is woefully lacking in tact and common sense.

That’s not to say she isn’t good company. If you’re lucky enough to be on friendly terms with her, you’ll find that she is a very invested and loyal individual. She’s very good at nursing grudges, however, and harming one of her friends or acquaintences is probably the best way to burn a bridge with her. Forgiveness must be earned, and trust must be reestablished, in that case. She can also be surprisingly devilish and mischievous when she really wants to be.


Super strength: Avaline is substantially stronger than a human. She doesn’t have to worry about preserving energy, as she is undead, so she can perform feats of strength that would be impossible for most humans, like lifting a fully-stocked refridgerator.

Super speed: She’s also capable of moving much faster than humans can.

Super reflexes: Ava is far more agile than any human, and she has excellent fine motor dexterity. The primary benefit of this is that it prevents her from running too fast to stop, as she usually prefers not to get embroiled in fights.

Heightened senses: Ava has better senses of hearing and smell than a living human does; she can also see up to fifty yards away in the dark.

Heightened stamina: Ava is like the Energizer bunny. She just keeps going, at least for longer periods of time than ordinary humans would. Precious little can really tire her out, and she does not have to sleep during any time of day at all. Sleep deprivation doesn’t have any effect on her physical or psychological well-being.

Healing Factor: Ava can heal from nearly any wound except decapitation and being impaled through the heart on a wooden stake, without antiseptics and at a very fast rate. She can even regenerate lost tissue, but her healing factor makes performing surgery on her extremely difficult. This also makes it harder to ensure that bone fractures heal right, which means her bones usually have to be broken at least twice. Cuts, abraisons, and bruises aren’t even considered injuries due to how well she can heal, and staking her is made difficult by the presence of her ribcage.

Shapeshifting: Ava can transform into a vampire bat or a raven, but usually prefers the latter – it’s why she changed her last name to Corvidae. She will transform into a bat involuntarily during a total lunar eclipse, but once the eclipse passes, she can change forms at will again. Regardless of her present form, Ava is always capable of intelligible speech.


Many of the usual vampire weaknesses don’t apply to Ava. Garlic is off-putting, but only because of her hightened sense of smell. Putting her under direct sunlight is ineffective, unless you’re just trying to give her a nasty sunburn or fry her brain with heat exposure. Crosses have no effect on her, holy water just gets her wet, and she can cross running water or a threshold just fine. She doesn’t even have an obsessive-compulsion with counting things, so attempting to distract her by spilling a bag of rice wouldn’t work at all.

Her ability to shapeshift is hampered is during the day, except at dawn, noon, and dusk; all transformation will be completely locked off to her otherwise, leaving her stuck in whichever form she is currently in until the next available time.

It’s trivially easy to keep her imprisoned in an ordinary birdcage if she is in one of her two animal forms. As is the case with daytime, birdcages cancel out her shapeshifting ability. She can still escape if the door is left open, sure, but she can’t unlock and open the door under her own power. You have to open the door for her and free her.

Just because she can heal from almost anything doesn’t mean she can’t be overwhelmed and incapacitated by serious injuries.

Starving her of blood is the only way to kill her without resorting to the usual gruesome methods, but it’s risky, and highly dangerous. Going without blood for more than a few days will cause her to crave it badly enough to attack people for it, and the need for blood can over-ride her shapeshifting limitations if it’s strong enough. Heavily restraining her in human form is the only way to safely starve her out.

Background story:

"'Are you sure you want this?' We stood in silence for a moment, his sunken eyes staring into mine as he waited for my answer. I didn’t say anything, but he read my answer in the look I was giving him. Of course I want this, I thought. Why are you asking me this now? He sighed. 'Eternity is a potent nepenthe, young thing,' he said, his voice rumbling with palpable consternation. 'But I’d be lying to you if I told you it could take away the pain entirely. D’you have any idea how much you’d be giving up? You have what I don’t – a chance to grow old and enjoy life each day at a time, maybe settle down and build a family with someone else – and you’re telling me you’d willingly piss that away just because your man jilted you and you don’t want to feel the pain? Stupid, mad bint, is what you are. I made the same choice for the same reason all those years ago, and look at what it did to me.

'Look at me, miss; really look, and tell me you really want me to help you make the same mistake I did. I need to hear you say it, loud and clear.' I did as he told me to do – looked him over a moment or so – and then caught his glance. Though the tears were welling up at the corners of my eyes, I would not be deterred. So it was that I said, without further hesitation, 'Yes. I want to become a vampire.'

The next several minutes are something of a blur, and I can’t remember what that stranger looked like. What I do remember is the last sensation I ever felt before waking up alone several hours later, drenched in rain and tucked away in some backalley in the bad part of Edinburgh where nobody cared much about dead Janes. The last thing I felt in life was intense pain coursing through my entire body, pain that radiated outwards from my jugular, where I'd been bitten, the kind of pain that could drive someone mad and which only ever seems to escape in the form of anguished screams. I sometimes wonder whether my sire was secretly enthused by the prospect of a willing donor, but that hardly matters now, and it didn't matter to me much then, either. All that mattered in that moment in time was finding a medicine that could mend the deepest pain of all; a broken heart. For how could I continue living if I couldn't have the heart of my boatman?

In life, I had been a young Scottish maiden named Avaline Dunning, living in a port town just across from the Isle of Lewis, on the mainland. I wasn’t nobility, but Grandad was a peerless fishmonger that made his family rich off the catch brought in from the North Atlantic. This left my dad, Alexander Dunning, wealthy enough to win the favor of Carlisle Windsor – an old money type, distantly related to the royal family – and, more importantly, the hand of his beloved Beatrice. Because of my grandfather’s life of labor, I grew up in comfort, never feeling the need that I would come to see in so many poor families living in the hearts of the big cities. My childhood came and went as you might expect, pampered, well taken care of, however you want to say it. But I was also instilled with a sense of honesty, and practicality. Not a shred of the money our families had together was to be wasted on unwise endeavors and extravagant purchases made for any reason besides being a rare treat.

I was an only daughter, so it was expected that I’d marry into another wealthy family when I came of age; my parents even had a few suitors in mind already, chosen from a few families of similar social backgrounds. It wasn’t a fresh suitor sitting pretty that caught my eyes. With his strapping, burly physique, and his dark hair, and with the most beautiful blue-green eyes I’d ever seen, it was a fisherman in my family’s employ that had my heart at first sight. It was something out of a penny novel, our little romance. My parents disapproved of how we looked at each other, but it hardly mattered to me. Their chastisements were worth the tender moments we shared. He was the Romeo to my Juliet. Of course, if you know anything about that play, you would say that’s hardly a flattering comparison. For me, it ended up being a little too on the nose.

It wasn’t until I’d snuck out one night to look for him at one of his usual haunts that I saw him for what kind of man he really was. He was at a humble tavern in a hamlet not far down the shore, sitting across from another young woman taken with him, saying everything to her I’d heard him say to me, thinking he had eyes for me alone. I bolted out the door, but he’d seen me. He tried to stop me from running, but I guess at some point he’d given up the chase, because I didn’t see him again that next day. I was devastated, and my dad was livid with him for breaking my heart. The last time I ever saw him, about a week after that night, he was on our doorstep, pleading with my dad to keep his job. Dad dismissed him without question. My parents decided upon a groom and I was set to meet him a few days later, but I had other plans.

I paid off the help the next night not to divulge where I was going, and took enough money to get me down to Edinburgh, with a length of rope taken from the dockyards. I was going to hang myself there, in the capital, because I knew what I saw. I was left a jaded shell of myself almost literally overnight, convinced as I was that true love was only ever an illusion.

It was that mysterious stranger that saved my life. At first, I cried out of desperation. I also cursed him with all kinds of coarse and un-ladylike language, most of which I’d picked up from my Romeo during the course of his work. How could anyone see fit to make a poor, jilted girl live when she clearly desired no such thing? I got to know a little bit about him after a few nights, though, and it soon became clear that he and I were kindred spirits. He was, at heart, a kind man who’d suffered the same cruel and undeserving slight, and he had drawn from it the same conclusion that I did.

He was also long dead by about two hundred years, and possessed of some supernatural qualities he’d gotten by making the same choice I did. I begged him, pleaded with him in the most pitiful ways, to let me in on his little slice of eternity to ease the pain in my wounded heart. It took some doing, but he eventually relented just after sunset one day. I awoke several hours later drenched from head to foot in rain, only to find he’d left me there. I went by his usual hiding spot, hoping against all odds that he'd stuck around to leave me with whatever knowledge he could share to get me started. Instead of him, though, I found a note in his handwriting, telling me I was on my own, because he had no interest in showing a headstrong heiress the ropes when it came to being a vampire.

Nothing about vampirism comes naturally aside from the thirst, and I had to learn everything else about it mostly firsthand, on account of being abandoned to make or break it on my own. There is no analog switch that turns on your body’s ability to take in blood, to begin with. You have to wean yourself off normal food and introduce more of your liquid diet a little at a time. Then you have to spend what seems like a decade and a half studying the anatomy of whichever animals you’d like to turn into, because it’s not as simple as just willing yourself into the shape of, say, a bat. At least, not until you’ve had significant amounts of practice. I’d heard it said not too long ago from another vampire that it’s like puberty all over again at first, but without the fun parts. I got a chuckle from that when I heard it, but the sad part is that it’s true.

After taking some time getting used to things, I struck out into the wider world, living from place to place under a variety of nicknames. I even went back up to my home town after awhile, to find out how much had changed since I left. I learned that my parents eventually got the help to fess up and tell them where I was going. They sent people to look all over Edinburgh for any signs of me, but, of course, I was never found. They called off the search after two months of fruitless searching, and held a memorial service, having concluded that I had died and been buried as an unknown nobody.

I also heard that my dearest Romeo became an embittered drunk who was no longer around. He, or what was left of him, was found floating in the river five years before my triumphant return after he lept into the water during a biting winter night, so I guess I got the last laugh. I couldn’t afford to stick around for very long, though, not with so many people there who were still alive to remember what I looked like.

I never went back there after that. I was around to witness both the greatest and the worst things that happened in the recorded history of my home world, Earth. I saw the fall of the British Empire, and the stock market crash of 1929 that snowballed into the Great Depression. I saw two wars that completely changed the world. I was there in Dallas when John F. Kennedy was assasinated. I saw so much pain and anguish grip my world that I eventually wanted out. In the year 2007, a way out presented itself in the form of a goddess of nature. She told me she had an important task for me. I was to be an emmisary on another world – another Earth, under another name. It was an Earth where I wouldn’t have to hide what I was for very much longer. My story didn’t end there, of course. I witnessed a lot of things, both great and terrible, in this world, too, but I’m no longer a lonely stranger wandering wherever the wind takes her. Eventually, I dropped my old surname, and took up the name Avaline Corvidae.

Still, I can’t help but hum an old song penned in my homeland every now and again. It’s an aria, penned in Scots Gaelic by another woman that had been in a relationship with a fisherman around the same time as me. She got a happy ending, though; her boatman married her after he realized what he was doing to her, mine didn’t. And when I hum that song, I can’t help but wonder whether I’d have gotten a happy ending myself, if he’d only been a better man."