Vulkaan Forrest

positive traits

negative traits

what they like

what they dislike

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Vulkaan stands at an average height of five feet and nine inches and weights at a modest hundred and forty-nine pounds. His light weight is a result of his small frame and lithe body, sporting scant few visible muscles. Old scars decorate his sun-kissed skin and very seldom attract any bystanders' attention to him. However, the deep scar that keeps his right eye permanently closed tends to be a conversation topic, much to his chagrin. The particular scar stretches from the bottom of his eyebrow to the top of his cheekbone and it is next to impossible to cover up, if only because of the fact he literally has no eye behind his eyelid.
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He very much favors discreet and concealing clothes so to cover up any potential signs that he is actually an Octoling and not an Inkling. His tastes in outfits are the reason why people don't really realize he has far more scars than what is there on his face. The only time he wears anything else that isn't long-sleeved shirts and jeans is when he is sitting in the apartment his friend got for their little band of friends to live in for the time being.
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Being discreet demands that he put his black tentacles up in a tight bun so that none of his white undersides could accidentally poke out. While some may believe some things are reserved for a certain gender, he gives zero cares as he dons on makeup to cover up his blatantly obvious purple marks around his eyes. To others, he might as well appear as if he was an Inkling that never lets down his bun in public for some reason. To further disguise himself, he has a Tentatek fake contact over his left blue eye to cover up his oddly shaped pupil.
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Unknown to the public, he has a rather large tribal-like tattoo on his back when he was still out and traveling around. He also carries various hand knives on his person, hidden carefully in his boots and pants or wherever else he can easily grab them from when it's needed. They end up not being used all that often, but it's a reassurance for him.



Vulkaan is, first and foremost, experienced with the ways of war and violence due to his combat training within the Octarian Force when he was still living at the Octo Valley. Due to this, he may seem to be a stoic or serious person that doesn't react very much to sensitive topics, going so far to shrug them off and say that it doesn't involve him. This stoic front has gotten him into trouble plenty of times with the more hot-blooded Inklings. Still, he has done well to avoid getting into a legit fist fight by either diffusing the situation or fleeing from it. His only reason for doing so is to keep the suspicion of him being an Octoling off him since fights in general cause his Octoling blood to boil and he ends up fighting like he used to: violently and with no mercy. He actively avoids any and all fights, especially Turf Wars, even going so far to keep himself disconnected from that sort of news.
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Despite his stoic front and violent undertones, he is actually a kind and patient person to an extent. He does not like it when strangers attempt to get their nose all up in his business or tries to be rude to him for no reason. Whenever someone is especially annoying to him, he takes considerable effort to not to just snap at them and even longer to word anything that wouldn't rile them up. In doing so, he's covertly revealing that he is actually considerate of others, especially when he's going so far to cover and disguise himself to look mostly like an Inkling.
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Paranoia follows him around as if it was his shadow the entire time and he constantly makes sure he looks just right to others. For this reason, his mind analyzes every Inkling he sees and it's a constant drone in the back of his head until he's in the apartment. He does not allow his paranoia show on his expressions and simply acts along with the crowd, pretending his paranoia or analytical mind isn't spewing out words at him at every constant second.
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He is, however, very cautious whenever he's on his own and not in the crowd, keeping a sharp eye out on his surroundings for any potential agents or undercover Inklings trying to keep track of him. A ball of worry and paranoia, he is.
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On most part, he is also quiet and strongly favors quiet places, such as tea houses, cafes, and libraries. Whenever things runs slow, he takes advantage of it with drawing or doodling up things. When given a chance, he turns out to be an understanding person when approached with the subject of disappointment, depression, paranoia, and so on. He generally tries to help out others with advices and showing them that they aren't alone in their struggles. He absolutely understands what it's like to deal with negativity on their own.
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Unfortunately, he is still heavily biased towards Inklings, hence the reason for his paranoia. He has been told all the time that if he isn't stronger than an Inkling, he'd be destroyed. Not to mention other things such as Inkling taking their land away from them long time ago. He tends to pause for a second or two if he's in a particularly bad mood and he's in Inklings' company so that he can carefully word things without spitting out hatred or scorn at them.
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He absolutely loves his coffee, especially when he wakes up in the morning. Literally nothing will wake him up faster than a good ol' mug of joe with some breakfast. That being said, he is actually incredibly slow to wake up in the morning, which is odd for an Octoling.
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His hobbies are rather different for an ex-soldier Octoling dealing with bias, depression, and violent tendencies. He frequently draws and doodles and uploading them on the net for all to see and likes to listen to soft, calming music while doing it. Of course, he listens to other musics such as dubstep, house, electro, and anything else to get his artistic mood flowing. Whenever he isn't drawing or listening to music, he can be found at local library with his nose in a book or scrolling through the net on his phone at a local cafe, sipping on a cup of tea.



Vulkaan was born and raised just like any Octoling stuck in the Octo Valley. It was all he really knew at first, honestly. His mother? Soldier. His father? Soldier too. His entire family was or still is part of the Octarian Force, and thus, he was expected to take part in it as well. He did so with zeal, not knowing anything else other than what he had been told and taught. He became a face within a crowd training for the domination of Inkopolis.
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Looking back, he wished he had the guts to question everything when he had the chance.
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Fighting was pretty much his life. That was all he knew. His weakness was soon found out as he aged and advanced through the Turf Wars. He couldn't handle the ink-based weapons simply because he couldn't hit a moving target. His superiors nearly benched him for life until they watched him take down a gunner with nothing but his hands. They were, for lack of proper words, astonished at his incredible skills in martial arts. It was then they found out he excelled particularly well at martial arts and handling the more dangerous weapons that didn't require ink to destroy his opponents – knives, swords, anything bladed. It was still puzzling that he had poor skills when it came to ink-based weapons, but he obviously had skill to hold his ground regardless.
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He was relived to learn that his superiors wouldn't bench him quite yet, through he was very aware that the further he advanced, the more often he'd encounter Octolings and their ink-based weapons. It was then he developed a very strong teamwork with whoever fought with him in these Turf Wars, be it with friends or strangers. His tactics was predicable due to his fame as 'that one Octoling who can't use guns', but his physical skills still caught them off guard, often winning his team their victory.
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Of course, he never went through all of this without severe injuries. There were hot-blooded Octolings who were determined to conquer him and his physical capabilities. The results? Usually disastrous for both sides. Most of time, the one who attacked him in an attempt to sway the superiors' decisions regarding them in amidst of the battle had to remain in bed for days, perhaps even weeks, while Vulkaan nursed his wounds that would turn into scars. His friends, however few, tended to become his nurses so to keep him from overworking himself due to training.
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He was expected to become one of the most elite soldiers in the Octarian force, until that one day. An Octoling – he didn't know who – had brought a knife with them into the battle, hidden discreetly until it was too late. It had been a trap and he didn't know it. He performed his same-old tactic on this particular Octoling – racing along within his team's ink and sneak up behind them. He slid out of the ink, using his speed to propel him and his swift motions to bring this Octoling down.
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A flash of silver told him all too late. Pain coursed through him as the blade cut through his flesh and right eye. Despite the pain, he managed to take down the offending Octoling and his bladed weapon. The Turf War had to be stopped and the Octoling taken in while Vulkaan was sent to a hospital. His eye was no longer functional and had to be removed due to the deep wound he sustained. He soon learned that the Octoling was permanently removed from the force for reasons he didn't know nor care.
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However, his superiors learned of his condition and made the difficult decision of removing him from the force. It was done with an excuse of protecting him from the over-zealous Octolings who desired to attain a high rank. Regardless, their words didn't soften the blow he experienced. He was now a shame to his family, a smear on their name. He would've been a pride of his family if it wasn't for that one Octoling. He felt a bubbling hatred, normally reserved for Inklings, directed towards this certain person.
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His depression was stronger than his hatred, though, and it left him questioning himself constantly. He was going to be a strong force within the Octarian Force and now he was a cripple, forever unable to see out of his right eye. It was all in vain. Everything collapsed around him and his friends had a hard time trying to cheer him up.
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His life collapsed. Fighting and making his family proud of him was all he knew. He gave up on training that now served no purpose other than to keep him in shape. He gave up on the hope that the doctors would construct him a functioning mechanical eye. He gave up on everything because he felt that he lost everything.
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It wasn't until months later that he realized he did need to do something. His depression was consuming him inside out and he was all but rejecting everything that was suggested to him by his family and friends. He wouldn't go back to training, for he no longer held any heart for it, but he would try doing something else entirely. It was then he chose to draw, and drew constantly, doing more with each encouragement from his family and friends.
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Unfortunately, being an artist meant he had to research on subjects. It was all innocent at first as he learned about art styles, various materials that wasn't just pencil and color pencils, and other information that could help a budding artist grow. He began to dig in deeper, touching upon mythology and other stories that could help give his art some form of life. At some point, he began to piece things together that seemed to say differently than what the propaganda had been telling everyone. Days afterward, he was given a warning to stop 'snooping' around and he had to explain that he was only looking for written references to give his art that bit of realism. Both sides' wording was shaky at best and they simply left it at that when Vulkaan proved his excuse with some truth as he left certain subjects alone.
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That only made him more curious about what the superiors were hiding from the public. He knew he couldn't look into these things anymore or risk being caught once again. As he continued on his artistic pursuits while battling with his depression, he made the decision of leaving the Octo Valley and see everything for himself. Sure, he would lose quite literally everything again, but he had the burning need to learn everything. He began to debate within himself on whether it was a good idea to leave or not.
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Vulkaan looked upon the Turf Wars one day as he drew quickly to capture the violent motions when a series of question hit him. Was all of this necessary? They had the technology to live peacefully, and yet Octolings and Octarians were working together to conquer the Inkopolis and drive Inklings away. And for what? To obtain upper ground? What exactly were they fighting for?
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That one particular question startled him and mess up on a line on the paper. What, indeed, were they fighting for? He himself… knew nothing but fighting and violence. If it wasn't fighting, it was something else entirely that helped the Octarian Force to achieve their goals. Did they even have a real goal other than taking over Inkopolis? Was everything they did justified?
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His pencil rested against the paper and his lone blue eye stared out at the battle waging onto the perilous ground, not quite seeing the battle. He was lost in thoughts as he wondered about their goals being justified. Their hatred… Was even that justified? The Great Turf War did leave a dark spot on their history, sure, but… it was over. Long over by a century. Sure, he himself didn't want to work with Inklings and still hated them, but… he had to ask himself. Was his hatred justified? Was it there for a reason? He never met an Inkling before and yet he hated and loathed them.
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Vulkaan had to get out. He needed to see things for himself and learn the truth. There was the possibility that his superiors were right, but he would risk it and see everything. He had to know.
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That night, he quietly packed only the bare essentials and left his home. It wasn't easy getting out of the Octo Valley due to the patrols and had to hide frequently so not to get caught. Once he got out and went to some place that wasn't frequented by both Octoling and Inkling patrol parties to gather his thoughts. He could go anywhere he wanted to, even towards Inkopolis, now that he was sort of free. However, the thought of going straight to Inkopolis made his insides squirm with nervousness and caused him to rethink about that particular line of thought. Perhaps, he wouldn't have to go straight to Inkopolis and just travel around.
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He was twenty-one when he left the Octo Valley, totally naive of the outside world and their ways. It was for this reason his beginnings were rocky until he befriended some species. He traveled around the lands, learning about the outside world and discovering that most didn't exactly look at Octolings with kindness. He didn't blame them and began to dress up that hid his tentacles from sight so to make both friends and strangers a bit more comfortable around him. He learned so much that he began to unconsciously whittle away at his bias. It was a slow process that would take many years, more than what he spent on traveling around, before his bias was manageable or gone.
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At age of twenty-five, he entered into Inkopolis via transport with his friends with intentions of learning the truth of the bias between Octolings and Inklings. However, he quickly realized that even Inklings had their own kind of propaganda promoting hatred towards Octolings. Did they even understand why they hated and loathed their rivals?
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He couldn't question because he knew better than doing so. If he did, he would've blown his cover and made Inklings hostile towards him. That was something he needed to avoid and he did so deftly by keeping his mouth shut and avoiding the subject of propaganda. Of course, things within the city were still rocky for him since he needed a place to live in and a job to support himself.
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A friend of his managed to get a place to live, through it was more of a dingy apartment in his opinion. Still, he didn't take his luck for granted and helped out wherever he could. He had to do commissions as a freelancer artist for a while to help with the bills until he landed a job in a tea store. It wasn't easy to adjust to the job due to the outfit requirements, but he managed it with copious amount of makeup around his eyes and constantly putting his tentacles in a bun so no one would think of him as an Octoling. As long as they thought of him as a slightly odd Inkling, he was happy enough.

I know every single face 'round here