The difference is that this cosmic horror is not of the Furthest Ring.
Not all horrors reside in the Furthest Ring.
There are others. Vast, indifferent, and hungry. The kind of horrors that are only barely sentient, existing only to gnaw away at reality out of spite.
Also Anensi is not covered in chitinous limbs, barbed tentacles, teratomas, etc.
Quick troll right here, and must've been the most creepiest troll I've ever made.
Your name is ALICIA LAIRTHORNE. Priestess of Miracles Land of Paparazzi and Shadows "will you.. will you kill yourself?"
Everyone abandoned you. Your DADDY, MOMMY, SISTER, everyone. Except for your LUSUS. Now that you're dead, you roam the STREETS, waiting for your PREY. As you lurk in the alleyway at MIDNIGHT, PEOPLE pass by you, and when they notice you and your EYES.. Their EYES turn HOLLOW, and you DRAG them to an ABANDONED HOME, where you BUTCHER them and EAT IT. You're a pretty DEPRESSED GIRL, so you take your ANGER OUT on others by KILLING them. No matter who or what they are, you just wished somebody TOOK CARE of you.
As you DIED, you made a PACT with your LUSUS who is a KOALA REAPER that you'd be a GHOST, but replaced the EYES with HOLES and GLOWING, BLUE EYES that seem to MOVE. They help you see EVERYWHERE, which help you in stalking your PREY and FOOD. They also GLOW in the DARK which is pretty NEAT you guess. During the DAY though, they're just REPLACED with NORMAL EYES. In this FORM, you try to DEVELOP a BOND with a STRANGER, and then ask them to DIE FOR YOU, so that you can have a FRIEND FOREVER.
Your STRIFE SPECIBUS would be EYEKIND, where your EYES are so HYPNOTIZING it can KILL SOMEONE.
Your LUSUS is a KOALA, but now is a KOALA REAPER from READING the CORRUPTED CONTENTS of the OGLOTH TEACHINGS. This is actually pretty FREAKY.
Your TROLLIAN is seeYou and you repeat.. repeat some of your.. words.
(Aaaaah, I need to go to bed or I'm going to get yelled at! I didn't even notice that it was 4 AM already, honest!)
Your name is FEHDYR KAVLET.
Yes, you're a completely sane, level-headed troll... well for the most part that is. We'll get to that later though.
You have a variety of INTERESTS. You enjoy going outside and WALKING IN THE WOODS that are close to your hive. Sometimes you'll spend whole days hiking BAREFOOT and climbing up trees. In fact, some evenings you wake up after passing out in the middle of the woods without much recollection of how you got to where you were except that you stayed up all day doing something and fell asleep there later. Luckily you've mapped out the woods so unless you wind up in a new spot it's kind of HARD FOR YOU TO GET LOST out in the wild alone.
You tend to favour the SATCHEL FETCH MODUS. You just shove the items you captchalogue into a satchel and when you need something you just have to reach in there. Things get lost in there at random though, so if you put something important in there then you may lose it. It's more or less a use at your own risk modus you guess. You have your STRIFE SPECIBUS allocated to SWORDKIND, which comes in quite handy when there's a thick batch of briers blocking your way. Usually you don't have to use it though. It's also allocated to CLAWKIND, but... well that will be explained in a bit.
When you're not out hiking, you enjoy sitting at home and READING. You enjoy reading about the different creatures that are in the world, from WINGBEASTS to HOOFBEASTS and all the things in between. You have quite the collection of SCIENTIFIC BOOKS AND JOURNALS on beasts, and you have even been inspired to start your own because of this. The first few entries are quite illedgible, but over time the drawings and handwriting have improved to something slightly more ledgible and accurate. Sometimes you enjoy reading MYSTERY books, though you've never been a huge fan of TROLL NANCY DREW for some reason. You absolutely love the TROLLOCK HOLMES series, and you're probably the biggest TROLLOCK HOLMES fan in all of Alternia.
Your LUSUS is a STRIPED PURRBEAST named SITRAL. Sometimes she'll come with you on your walks in the forest. She even lets you ride on her back when you're tired.
You live in a somewhat secluded area. There are some other hives here and there, but for the most part they're abandoned. From what you can tell, most of the other hives are on the other side of the woods. This is probably better for the trolls that live there anyway. It would be terrible if they got hurt because of your FOOLISH MISTAKE.
And now that you've managed to bring that up again, you suppose now is as good a time as any to go into backflash mode.
When you were a young troll of only 4 1/2 sweeps, you met a fortune teller. He pulled out a stack of TAROT CARDS and asked you to pick three. Being the young, uneducated troll you were, you went along with it thinking it was all in good fun. He said that the cards would tell you your past, present, and future. The past one said that you grew up in a town with not that many people, where you didn't have any moirails to talk to, matespirits to love, or kismesises to hate, which was obviously accurate. He flipped over the second one to reveal that in the present you had become something of a flirt after growing up in seclusion for quite a while. You had moirails to vent to, matespirits at your every call, and kismesises who would hate you long after the end of time. You supposed this was true, after all you were talking to a lot more people lately. The future card revealed that you would pay a price for all the flirting you had done, that you would wind up killing every single one of your matespirits and kismesises. After the last card had been read, the fortune teller left you standing in confusion as the sun rose. You began transforming into a terrible beastly mix of WILD WOOFBEAST and TROLL, into something you refer to as a WEREBEAST. Shortly after, your thoughts went somewhat blurry, but you remember lots of running and blood... there was blood everywhere. The face of one troll sticks out painfully in your memory, as it was the face of your first matespirit. Later that evening, you woke up after passing out in the forest earlier that morning due to your murderous rampage. Later, you began trying to forget most of what happened through force. Some faces still stick in your memory despite your fact to forget, though, as if it was meant to antagonize you. Luckily, this only happens during the days when Alternia's pink moon is full, which happens about once per perigee usually. Unfortunately, when you are in WEREBEAST form, you are unable to control your actions. You only have one thought that races through your head repeatedly, and that is that you must KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOUR LOVE INTERESTS.
This being the case, you have become increasingly secluded and now only talk to others via a chat client called TROLLIAN. Your screen name is cursedHunter and you Tallk In A Cllear And Normall Manner For The Most Part. BUUUUUT WHEN YOOOOOUUUUU TRRRRRANSFOOOOORRRRRM YOOOOOUUUUU BEGIN HOOOOOWLING AND GRRRRROOOOOWLING!
Name:Fehdyr Kavlet (Fehdyr=Hydref=Autumn, Kavlet=Kletva=Curse)
Typing Quirk: Capitalizes every word usually, l=ll. During a full moon U=UUUUU, O=OOOOO, R=RRRRR, and she types in all caps.
Shirt Symbol: The last picture on the page on Photobucket when I searched up "cursed symbol"
Strife Specibus: Swordkind when normal, Clawkind when a werebeast.
Fetch Modus: Satchel
Lusus: A tiger named Sitral (Sitral=Listra=Stripe)
Dream Resident of: Derse
Theme/Inspiration Song: "Howl" by Florence and the Machine http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ucFHDxhCVwE
Last edited by JadeWolf27; 01-16-2011 at 03:41 PM.
Now that's more like it! Or rather, it would be, if magic was a tad more real.
Your name is Tyseci Finyig, and your fondness for things eldritch and arcane borders upon obsession. Since you were young, such things have fascinated you far more than the average troll, and you've amassed literature both speculative and blatantly fantastical on the subject. You've researched the Noble Circle of Horrorterrors extensively, trying to unearth some way to create a conduit with which to tap into their mystical powers. Failing to find even a scrap of evidence that such measures would ever work, you've also grabbed anything even vaguely related to a spellbook that you could get your hands on.
This includes cookbooks.
On the plus side, all this mystical research has actually lead you to become a skilled botanist and chemist, though creating a witch's brew is less satisfying than the thought of commanding cosmic powers with your voice alone. A poultice may make a wound heal more quickly, but magic could make the process instant! Magic could make you grow another copy of the limb! Magic could have prevented the injury in the first place! But alas, magic is still fake.
However, sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.
And thus you've taken up the study of that as well! You may not have golems, but robots are almost as good! Nanotech reconstruction methods, if properly crafted, can be just as potent as any healing spell shy of resurrection! Particle projection cannons are easily as powerful as conjured lightning.
Who needs a zombie animated by dark magic when you can just strategically place a few machines in the corpse to reanimate the muscles and make it serve the same purpose?
...You, that's who. For all this technical expertise you've acquired, you still long for the night that mystical energies flow through your person, arcane forces crackle in the air around you, and those who dared to mock your pursuits either cower in fear or lay as charred corpses in your wake. It's not just the end result, but the imagery of it that matters to you. Some might question why you even feel the need, though. You do, after all, possess frighteningly potent telekinesis.
It's really no surprise, as lowbloods like yourself tend to make for powerful psychics, though others typically have some kind of telepathic abilities as well. As far as you can figure, your powers are strictly limited to the issue of moving things with your thinkpan. Your particular version is... a little quirky, though. All of your telekinetic manipulation is heralded by an image of a hand performing the task – though it's scaled to a size appropriate to the task at... eheh, hand. A slap, a grab, a push, crushing an individual, it doesn't matter. You choose not to question it, as it works well enough for your purposes.
As a troll of eleven sweeps, you've long since left behind both lusus and recuperacoon in your travels, but avoid the call of the military and the ire of the imperial drone simply by virtue of never staying in one place long enough to lock horns with them. Your strife specibus, when you actually bother to use it instead of your telekinesis, is allocated to tomekind, and your fetch modus is simply array, because you realized long ago that anything else is just a waste of time.
Your trolltag is amplitudeCaress, and your words Are A bit WHIMSICALLY drAmAtic, And you Are often preoccupied with mAtters fAr more IMPORTANT thAn whAt these simpletons Are busily HARASSING you with.
Last edited by Panzerbear; 01-16-2011 at 10:54 AM.