Avery Adams

"Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"


A young, gorgeous 20-something whose beauty fluctuates between exaggerated and understated, depending on how much effort he feels like putting forth that day. Wielding a wardrobe that is equal parts rainy-day style and fashionista ware (and even a few things in between,) Avery is always dressed for the occasion.

Demon: Borne by fiberglass angel’s wings inlaid with delicate gold circuitry, Avery’s true form is a vision of elegance not meant for the terrestrial world, even once you notice its more insidious features hiding just out of view; a barbed tail laden with an ancient and potent venom, and a plug for the read/write of human memories.


Avery has been called a number of things throughout his centuries of service — alchemist, scientist, pusher. No matter the name, though, the product had always been the same; the perfect, meticulously calculated truth of the God Machine, soluble in the bloodstream, and with a nice little high to boot. And if the sales pitch wasn’t enough, he certainly wasn’t above a little… encouragement. After all, it wasn’t part of his programming to feel the inherent disgust of lying with mortals. It was just part of the job.

Getting bored in modern nights and trying his own product just to see what it was like, however, was not.

When the shock of the Fall had passed, the newly unchained Avery made one small, critical alteration to his formula, and now his customers were paying to experience an entirely new kind of vision.

These days, he splits his time between being the conscience of his Ring, and selling the concept of Hell on Earth to club kids. The now-unrestricted permissions of his original purpose grant him an unusual and sincere appreciation for the flawed beauty of human culture, and he shirks no opportunity to indulge in their sinful desires.


Avery Adams

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