TROLLSLUM 7: No roleplaying. Profiles only. FINAL DESTINATION.

**Doctor Tess** · 03-02-2011, 05:21 AM

OH GOD I'M FALLING DOWN ALL THESE POSTS

Thread 1!
Thread 2!
Thread 3!
Thread 4!
Thread 5!
Thread 6!

Man, don't you wish you could keep track of all these fanmade troll characters popping up everywhere? Of course you do. We all do. Which is why I took it upon myself to put together an up-to-date fantroll index, with info on all the fantrolls! All fantrolls are welcome here, so don't be afraid to have yours added to the list! 8D It seems that RPing is the hip and cool thing to do here, so it'd be super awesome if you stuck around to join in the fun! (But you don't have to! Don't be afraid to post your trolls here if you don't want to roleplay, we want to see them!!)

Additions to the Trollslum should include at least most of the following information:
- trolltag
- text/blood colour
- typing quirk
- reference picture
- personality and interests
- shirt symbol, weapon, lusus and other similar details

A few notes! Please read these before you start posting profiles. (PLEASE.)

- CUT DOWN ON THE OFF-TOPIC CHATTER, GUYS, SERIOUSLY. This thread is hard enough to keep track of as it is when you're not running through an entire thread in a week and a half! If you've got something irrelevant to say, take it to the Trollslum general chat thread, please!!
- Please make your character's trolltag clear in your profile, since that's how I organise them. And if you are posting an AU (alternate universe) profile, please make the fact clear so I know not to add it to the list!
- If you're updating an old profile, feel free to repost it if your old profile was in an old thread. If the old profile's in the current thread, just edit the post. But please make it clear that the profile you're posting is a repost, particularly if the troll was previously unnamed!
- Once you've got a Sgrub session all set up, or at least mostly, make a thread for it! It helps keep clutter out of this one. On that note, the thread tends to get mighty clogged with off-topic RPing, so you should take that to the Trollslum Cafe or a similar thread. I'm serious about this one, too. This thread's main intent is for troll profiles, not a flood of roleplay posts! If I see too much of it going on, I'm gonna be asking you to leave. Sorry guys, but that's how it's gotta be!
- If you've got fantroll art, take it to the main fanart thread! They're most certainly welcome there, and it prevents - you guessed it! - more clutter in this thread.
- If a posted "profile" contains very minimal info, such as a picture and name only, don't expect it to be added to the list. It gets pretty hard for me to distinguish between new trolls and art of existing trolls when they don't have a trolltag attached.
- This is kind of hard to enforce retroactively, but at least try to keep to what we know about trolls in canon. Like not getting too wacky and off-spectrum with the blood colours, for example. Laughing in the face of canon does not a good fancharacter make! (I probably won't get on your case about troll symbols, though, since at this point there have probably been quite a few double-ups anyway, and enforcing it just seems kind of unreasonable)
- At the same time, don't go and just flat-out copy a canon character, or someone else's character! That's not cool. Try to be original!
- If I haven't updated the list since you posted your profile, don't be all buggin' me because yours isn't up here yet. My update schedule is kind of unpredictable, and I'll get around to it eventually! Just be patient.
- Please don't spoiler new profiles! There's a good chance I'll miss them if you do.
- And please tell me if I do miss one! Or if I make any other mistakes. I'm not perfect!

#Trollchat channel
Trollslum Wiki!

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Trolls are catalogued in alphabetical order by trolltag.
Current troll count: 1346

Trolltags A-M

**Doctor Tess** · 03-02-2011, 05:26 AM

Trolltags N-Z

Current team list (probably outdated!)
Server -> Client

Blank templates/resources (warning: large, table-breaking images)

**crash826** · 03-02-2011, 05:32 AM

Your name is SPAIRE CRAZED.
You are a competitor in the pitched BATTLE-SPORT of ALTERNIAN PIT FIGHTING, which you use to SUPPORT YOURSELF through LIFE. In reality, you are GROSSLY UNDERPAID for a TOP-RANKED FIGHTER, and your ACTUAL PAY could give you at least a TEAL'S LIFE, but your SOPOR HABIT means that you're a little too ADDLED to pay attention to what's said. You go into fights SOPORED most of the time, because you don't FEEL MUCH when SOPORED; this is AUGMENTED by the fact that you have a PSYCHIC POWER that is pretty much INSANE RESILIENCE and ENDURANCE. In the arena, you're known by the WARMONIKER of STRIPES due to the striped LEGGINGS and LONG GLOVES you wear.

When you're not PITFIGHTING, you have a PODCAST you perform in your RENTHIVE in the PIT called WHOA, WHAT IS THIS, also known as the DELUSION REPORT; it is appreciated for what everyone assumes is a SUPERNATURALLY SUBTLE SENSE OF HUMOR AND IRONY and SUPERB TASTE IN MUSIC but which is really YOUR WEIRD RAMBLING augmented by SOPOR and CHOCOLATES. You can play MUSIC quite well, on KEYBOARDS, DRUMS and BEEPY THINGS, but only do so during your PODCAST.

You have a few INTERESTS: you enjoy BUILDING SCALE MODELS OF FAMOUS ALTERNIAN LANDMARKS such as the EMPRESS BUILDING and the EMPIRE STATE STEM. Unfortunately, you're CLUMSY and KNOCK OVER said models often; as such, your HIVE is littered with fragments of model. You also write in your rare moments of LUCIDITY, your MANUSCRIPTS would ROCK ALTERNIAN CULTURE and CREATE A SOCIAL UPHEAVAL if you didn't CUT THEM UP FOR PAPIER-MACHE after eating more SOPOR. In the meantime, you write BAD SHIPPING FANFICTION and post it to TROLLFICTION.TRO and watch THE ANIMES.

Your LUSUS died a long time ago, but you're pretty sure it was a PURRBEAST. Yep. Definitely a PURRBEAST. You use BALLKIND; this lends itself to a iron ball with a hole in it which you swing around as a glove, causing concussions to all those who oppose you.

Your trolltag is offtuneCoruscant and y(x)u're an exteeensive s(x)rt (x)f girl.

**Sunny64** · 03-02-2011, 06:49 AM

click the names for wiki links with more info!!!!!!!!

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Your name is MAGXIT ATAKAX.

You live in a community of HIVES deep underground, below the OCEAN FLOOR, connected with a series of tunnels.

You rather enjoy hunting GIANT MEGABEASTS with your TRUSTY BATTLEAXE. Recently, you and three friends have teamed up to form a MEGABEAST HUNTING SQUAD. Together, you take on monsters ranging from the once mythical CAVE-DWELLING DRAGONYY'YDS to the dreaded SIX STORY TALL 20-LEGGED SPIDERFIENDS and create new WEAPONRY and EQUIPMENT from their HIDES and OTHER PARTS. Your lusus of course doesn't like the idea of you risking your life, but he's such a lazy ass that he doesn't try to stop you. When not hunting, you like to mess around in the field of TECHNOLOGY. Your dream is to one day create the perfect ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE, for the benefit of nobody but you. You also have a great passion for ONLINE ROLE-PLAYING VIDEO GAMES, which you play a lot with your hunting comrades.

Your trolltag is unlearnedFamiliar and your speech has a commanding tone [Y]ou like being in charge

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Your name is VAENIA ADERXE.

You live in a community of HIVES deep underground, below the OCEAN FLOOR, connected with a series of tunnels.

You spend a lot of your time hunting BIG MONSTERS with your buddies. You and them are a team of FOUR, taking down EXTREMELY VIOLENT and DANGEROUS creatures using your big collection of LONGSWORDS. Your favourite part, though, is making armor out of them, which you use to go kill more MEGABEASTS! Your lusus is a gigantic WATER DRAGONYY'YD. She loves nothing more than to come along on expeditions and help out, which is weird behavior for lususes (lusii???) but you don't care. When you are not adventuring, you DEDICATE yourself to becoming the absolute best GRUBCRAFT player there is. Your friends can barely keep up with how fast you gain ALL THE LEVELS. You also love writing POETRY and MUSIC which you publish online. You are a nice girl, but you tend to get VERY EMOTIONAL, VERY EASILY.

Your trolltag is benignIntegrator and =1your speech has a slightly depressing feel to it...1

**Masterweaver** · 03-02-2011, 07:33 AM

>Be the shadowy seeker.

You are now Fanlel Prakum. But soon enough, you might be somebody else.

You see, you were selected as a wriggler to be a CULLRANGER, one of the Alternian empire's secret police. Your job is to mingle amongst sectors of the populace and make sure that the Trolls there are contributing to society in a proper fashion. Anybody who doesn't meet your standards is written up for culling. Anybody. Red blood or blue, it doesn't matter.

Because of your job, you've managed an excellent job of hiding your actual blood color from everybody you know. A few understand that you're teal but they're the kind of people you trust: namely, other CULLRANGERS. For the rest of the populace, you're a complete mystery and that's the way you like it.

You don't own a hive, but rather travel with all your personal items in your PASSCODE SYLLADEX, which requires specific passcodes for each card accessed. Your lusus, a NOMADIC BLOODWING, lets you ride on its back when you're on the move; it does get to eat whoever you're stealing your next hive from, so it's a mutually beneficial arrangement.

Like all cullrangers, you have a contact lens illustrating your symbol, and another that lets you scan a person's blood at a glance. You've set your sylladex to TAZERKIND, so you can mark your targets and make a quick getaway before the THRESHACUTIONATERS come in. When not on the job, you prefer your stylish but serviceable SUIT OF HIDDEN TRICKS, as you like the feeling of various potentially useful objects near at hand.

Your trolltag is midnightWatcher and your speech is ... . .cuicc, chort, and to the point.

----
And, since, I'm not sure if you got him last time....
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>Be the Artistic Loner
You are now the artistic loner, but the readers can't see you because it would reveal a MYSTERIOUS SECRET. You will let out that you're about TEN SWEEPS OLD. You do not have ALL THE LEVELS, but you do have QUITE A FEW due to EVENTS IN YOUR PAST.

>Enter Name
You are called SAECRI FUNGAI, but that's not your real name. You won't tell anyone what your name is, though, because it would reveal your MYSTERIOUS SECRET.

You are EXTREMELY PARANOID that somebody will discover your MYSTERIOUS SECRET. You are so paranoid that you STAY IN YOUR HIVE ALL THE TIME. You make a living by BREEDING FLARP GRUBS and selling them online; it's something you're actually RATHER TALENTED AT. Compared to your friends, you are RATHER MELLOW, which is unusual for a troll. You occasionally SCULPT BOULDERS to express yourself; the sculptures are VERY IMPRESSIVE and have made QUITE A FEW CURRENCY UNITS on internet auctions. You are FRIENDLY BUT DISTANT, not talking about yourself too often but quite supportive of others.

>Look Over Trollian
Your trolltag is mossGatherer. Your blood is the color of fresh moss (R0G128B32, #008020) and you sometimes roll :at forth and back: random intervals, though you do it more :nehw er'uoy detatiga: and you go :er'uoy nehw semertxe ot: afraid.

>Examine Appearance
NO! Absolutely not! If anybody saw you, they'd know your MYSTERIOUS SECRET, and you'd be culled almost instantly!

>O...kay.... Examine interests
You seem very interested in the NATURALLY INANIMATE, such as plants and rocks. In fact, you have an atrium upstairs, and order boulders by mail quite frequently. You also like to peruse ALTERNIAN LAW for some loophole that will make your MYSTERIOUS SECRET less dangerous for you. You might WAX PHILOSOPHICAL, but your musings usually go over the heads of your friends. Sometimes you SKETCH and WRITE POETRY, but you're not AMAZING at it, just OKAY. You check the STARSHIP ROUTES almost constantly, and have the entire ALTERNIAN WAR FLEET pretty much memorized.

>Identify Equipment

Your symbol is that of the GREAT GARDENER, though you doubt anyone on your Chumproll would know that. You pretend it's something else anyway, so as to hide your MYSTERIOUS SECRET. You have alloted your strife specibus with BOULDERKIND, seeing as you have lots of massive rocks in your hive and don't intend to go anywhere. You have a ROTOR fetch modus for your SYLLADEX, which requires you to spin the SYLLADEX CARDS at specific speeds to access their contents; this is not difficult at all for you. You tend to quietly avoid the topic of your Lusus, shifting the conversation away when it comes up or giving seemingly informative but actually cryptic comments about it.

**privateTenderloin** · 03-02-2011, 08:12 AM

>Be the overprotected one.

Success.

You are Jakks Clayne and you have more parents then are probably necessary.

You are 7 sweeps old and you live in a hive near the ocean with your 12 lusii. You spend most of your time studying martial arts and listening to bad music. You also have an interest in archeolannhialating. You love ancient artifacts and lost cultures. You're a little clumsy sometimes but you have excelllent reflexes from your training.

You also have some strange powers, but you can only use two of them at a time. Since you use martial arts as a form of self-discipline and do not particularly enjoy fighting you do not make much use of these powers outside of being occasionally playful.

Your lusii are as follows:
Plaguebeast (Rat)
Hornedhoofbeast (Ox)
Stripedpouncebeast (Tiger)
Flopearbeast (Rabbit)
Dragon
Slitherbeast (Snake)
Hoofbeast (Horse)
Hornedfluffbeast (Ram)
Climbingtailbeast (Monkey)
Cluckbeast (Rooster)
Woofbeast (Dog)
Oinkbeast (Pig)

Your powers are also as such:
You can animate inanimate objects
you can become super strong
You can balance your inner self
you can move super fast
You can make things explode
You can turn invisible
You can heal people
You can enter people's dreams
You can turn yourself and others into various animals
You can levitate
You can become invincible
You can fire heat beams from your eyes

You use the fistkind and animalkind strife specibii and you have the Reflex Fetch Modus which requires precise timing in order to retrieve items.

If you were to play in a SGRUB session you'd be the Seer of Beasts and you'd dwell in The Land of Wind and Bamboo.

Your trolltag is beastialPacifism and You tend to have twouble pwonouncing youw Aws.

**Panzerbear** · 03-02-2011, 08:18 AM

>Panzer: Engage in the usual shenanigans.

I know you said not to spoiler new profiles, Tess, but, well... So much text D:

Be the first half of the Inseparable Duo!

Your name is Breimm Dekund, and someone has to keep that silly girl from getting herself killed.

You suppose you owe that much to her, someone of such noble breeding taking pity on a wretch like you, overlooking your hideous vital fluids and grim demeanor. Your blood is a viscous, tar-like sludge, black as pitch and cold to the touch. You're not even sure how you live, as the stuff can barely be said to pump through your veins. You hate the vile muck, and all the pain its hue has brought you. As far as you're concerned, your status as a freakish abomination places you as on par with the worst slime Alternia has to offer, and you don't understand why she puts up with you.

That isn't to say your blood isn't without its perks. You've been culled on several occasions, but death doesn't feel the need to claim you. Though not as dramatically rapid as some, your body regenerates, knitting flesh and bone back together in a methodical, inexorable fashion. You even have control over limbs that have been completely severed. No matter how battered and dismembered your broken husk is left (well, you haven't tested being completely vaporized, that might do the trick), it slowly pulls itself together. However, it's a long, painful process, and the worst can require weeks for you to be functional again. Agonizing weeks, as your body forces itself back into its proper shape with or without your consent. Being nigh-immortal kinda sucks, when you get down to it. And you're awake for the entire excruciating, long healing process.

In fact, you've never slept in your life. Or passed out. Lost consciousness at all, really. Your body needs surprisingly little to function, and exhaustion is downright foreign to you. No rest for the wicked, right? Eating is barely a necessity, though gorging yourself speeds up the healing process immensely. After all, you have to replace all that mass you lost - flesh isn't free, and while your body does its best to pull itself back together, it'd be silly to expect all of it to be able to make the journey. Though the fastest you've ever seen your blood move is when it's pulling itself back into your body. A little freaky to watch, actually. The slow flow of your blood also lends a resistance to various toxins, but really, that's just a few sprinkles on the whole cake that is your freakish durability. Hell, you could point out that you barely even need to breathe, but once again, that's just not that important to you.

If the unusual healing properties of your blood weren't enough, you also have a certain... kinship with the dead. More accurately, they seem to mistake you for one of them, and can't seem to leave you alone. They just want someone to talk to or some such nonsense, and only so many trolls are awake during the day when the the deceased come out to play. While you've been used to the dead for quite some time (sometimes the spirit of your giant vulture lusus even stops by to hang out), most of the time you just want them to leave you the hell alone. The corporeal undead are better at listening, seeing as you can beat them profusely about the head and shoulders until they get the idea.

When not busy lamenting the fact that you don't even have a place on the hemospectrum (you'd like a nice green at the very least. You're not picky!), you're generally busy keeping tabs on your moirail, who drags you along with her to try to make you feel less sorry for yourself. She refers to it as toning down your wangst. As befits the disparity between your stations in society, you follow without complaint. For the most part, this involves an obscene amount of FLARP campaigns, which... are actually pretty therapeutic for you. But your moirail has also involved you in scuffles over ancient ruins infested with hostile beasts, pitted you against mobs of trolls that she somehow managed to agitate, and has even taken you dragon hunting.

...If you didn't know better (and knew that she knows better), you'd think she's trying to get you killed. Or herself killed, maybe? Okay, that one's a little more worrisome, but it's not in her general disposition to want to off herself, so you're pretty sure that's not the case. But she's always getting involved in dangerous stuff, so watching her back is how you repay her for taking pity on someone not even fit to be considered a peasant. It gets you a lot of practice with your hammerkind and fistkind specibi, though, so you suppose it all works out in the end. Maybe the military will eventually overlook the sludge flowing through your veins and allow you to join the ruffiannihilators. After all, you've been of age for a while now... Maybe they think you're dead?

Your fetch modus is the Eulogy Modus, which requires you to say a few words of remembrance about an item before retrieving it. If your words aren't tear-jerking enough, the item is launched violently from your sylladex instead. Your generally lethargic and grim disposition lends itself to the latter happening more often than not, which doesn't help your mood.

Your trolltag is cadaverousCompulsion, and you are mmore thann a little mmorose inn your speech, dronninng rather thann speakinng nnormmally.

Be the second half of the inseparable duo!

Your name is Aaliel Mequia, and even Breimm needs a friend to keep him out of trouble!

In fact, the two of you have been the palest of pals since your wigglerhood! One of your fellow glubgrubs decided to let his squidtastic monstrosity lusus devour your giant whale, though you're confident that she at least managed to inflict grievous injuries while buying you enough time to flee. Be that as it may, you've been terrified of anything with tentacles ever since, and have decided to live on land where such things are far, far less common. A stroke of luck caused you to find Breimm's hive not long after he had been orphaned, and though he was a sweep older than you, he took pity on you and allowed you to use the recuperacoon that he never touched. Well, you say it was taking pity on you, but you're pretty sure that he might also be rather aware of your place on the hemospectrum. Gills do that, after all. Maybe he thought it was a good idea to wriggle his way into the good graces of a member of the nautical aristocracy?

Breimm's hive is fairly isolated, which means that the two of you can satisfy your thirst for adventure every time you head out! Granted, without you there, he wouldn't really need to leave, but you have this thing called dietary needs, and gnawing on your moirail isn't a very good solution. Plus he's not very tasty. Being the only one who regularly needs food between the two of you, you're also the only one who bothered to learn how to cook. He eats when food is offered out of politeness, but for the most part your moirail insists that you save it for yourself so that you two don't have to go hunting so often.

Sometimes, you think Breimm is a little crazy, as he mentions talking to the dead during the day. You've never seen it take place, though you suppose that usually sleeping during the day might make it hard to witness your moirail communing with corpses. Some might find it a little creepy that you have someone who keeps an eye on you while you sleep, but you're okay with it. Though Breimm also says you tend to sing in your sleep, and that once in a while, he almost nods off if he listens. Not that it's any special psychic nonsense. You are, after all, a seadweller, and having powers when situated that high on the spectrum is pretty much unheard of! No, he just seems to find it comforting when you sing, so you've taken up the vocal arts to help pay your rent.

The rest of your rent is covered by the spoils of the various FLARP campaigns you've participated in! You drag Breimm along with you because you're intent upon forcing him to socialize, even if his communication is primarily with the face of his hammer. He's a really good clouder, though, and understands the spirit of the game better than most! Sometimes, the two of you even hold practice sessions out on his lawnring. He won't say it, but it's because you need as much practice at combat as possible. He's quick to shut down a session if you can't handle the monsters, which is happening less frequently as of late as you start to catch up to your moirail's ability. Maybe you'll even be on par with him by the time the military remembers to pick the two of you up.

What you lack in combat expertise you make up for in technical and interpersonal skill. You're far more diplomatic than the average troll, and have a knack for cracking security systems of all kinds. You love sneaking around through enemy territory, and have your sights set on eventually becoming a saboterror. It's not as glamorous as the life of a spy, but when your enemy's death ray explodes in his hand and obliterates his arm, you can't help but feel gleeful satisfaction at a job well done. Dirty tricks and low blows to foes who weren't expecting them are wonderful things. You've done what you can to encourage unusual tricks from your moirail, but thus far the only one he seems to really enjoy is a good flying tackle.

Of course, those aren't the only machinations you love. As a member of the nautical aristocracy, politics are something you simply know. And meddling in them is something you would do unconsciously, if you didn't feel the need to giggle whenever another competitor bites the dust. After all, if you're going to have purple blood flowing through your veins, you better damn well act like it! Any night you don't need to make use of your swordkind or bowkind specibi to have an enemy maimed beyond recovery is definitely a good night. However, you're still fairly even-tempered as far as highbloods go, and sometimes you're content to let them squabble amongst themselves while you amuse yourself with your moirail. You don't deny that his existence is reprehensible to troll society, but you think the Alternian Empire can make use of him, and he's remarkably loyal for someone you'd lump with the peasantry. A bit of a whiner, though.

There is a certain guilty pleasure that you indulge in, despite how it is generally frowned upon by your fellow aristocrats: graffiti. (No, you weren't mentioning hanging out with Breimm. That would've been silly.) Granted, you're usually not tagging various surfaces for the sake of leaving your mark, but rather because you make use of the pictionary modus, and you don't actually have a tablet to sketch on instead. Given your swordkind specibus, sometimes you carve the shape of the item you need in your opponent. Getting the item you want is particularly difficult when using that method, though.

Your trolltag is intrinsicCoronach, and you sometimes... ~waver~ between ~conspiratorial~ tones and Overly Bubbly Enthusiasm!!!

Be the good-for-nothing, double-dealing backstabber.

Your name is Corroa Resato, and you're pretty sure your reputation is far better than those kinds of accusations would suggest.

You are a consummate patriot! However, it's a fairly accurate depiction of what you do for a living. While the majority of the troll population embraces their culture and heritage, as they only should, there are pockets of resistance that insist upon grassroots rebellions. Whether they fight for hemoequality (tch, as if they deserve it), peace (how delightfully ironic!), or some other equally ridiculous ideal, you have one solution to this affront to Alternian culture: to destroy it from the inside.

As a collaborbreaker, you are on commission from the big wigs in the Alternian Military to seek out, infiltrate, and ultimately, nullify these groups of rebels through any means you feel are necessary. Sometimes, you simply prey upon the paranoia deeply ingrained in any troll who has to constantly fear discovery. Other times, you pick them off one by one until there's nobody left to rebel. If it's more than you can handle on your own, you simply give the higher-ups a list of names, and let them handle it. After all, there's no point in one of their top agents taking needless risks.

Most of these rebel movements are firmly rooted in the lowest castes. As such, they often have at least a few psychics in their ranks. Normally, that would make any sort of infiltration risky for someone with the mental resistance of a troll hatched so low in the hemospectrum, but you have an admittedly difficult to control power of your own that renders such worries pointless. You're something of a walking dampener of psychic energies, projecting a field of effect that stifles psychic abilities within one meter of you, with diminishing effect until it's just a slightly greater effort to use one's abilities at roughly ten meters. This psychic insulation of sorts is, to a mix of your relief and chagrin, constantly active. After all, a psychic who determines that you're making it more difficult for them to function generally doesn't want to be your friend, even if you explain you can't suppress the aura... field... whatever the hell it is, you never bothered with a proper name.

When it comes to actually eliminating the rebels, your ability puts everything on something of an even playing field, unless a psychic opponent is getting creative. Though you generally prefer preying upon them from an ambush, you're no slouch in single combat (though a full-on brawl is something you abscond from rather than trying to join in the fray - you prefer to have the ability to focus on your opponent, rather than having to divide your attention). You are but one of the many trolls who prefers knifekind, getting in too close for enemies to use bulkier weapons properly. It also allows you to bathe in the blood of those who would dare go against the glory of Alternian society. Or anyone else you wind up having to fight, which can be anything from a caliginous suitor you have no interest in to someone trying to rise through the ranks the old-fashioned way.

When not engaged in rooting out the enemies of the empire or indulging in violent urges, you enjoy spending quiet moments in your quarters, relaxing as best you can. You have a fondness for collecting candles and incense, finding the various aromas pleasing and the small flames hypnotizing. The melting wax, which you never scrape from your furniture, is art in your mind. You also enjoy a great many similar mundane art subjects, such as blown glass and landscapes of windswept sand or snow. In fact, most of your pastimes are fairly calm, placid activities. When you were still on Alternia, you had a massive rock garden that you maintained yourself. Now, however, it's a few handfuls of pebbles and sand in a ceramic bowl, though you still tend it with the same painstaking care.

Countless nights spent on infiltration, developing different cover identities and gaining the trust of varying sorts of trolls has given you a great deal of experience at role-playing, in a roundabout sort of way. However, you lack the mindset for putting a great deal of thought into a persona, and make up for this with the sheer number of different profiles you've garnered. In this one instance, you forsake quality for quantity, to try to cover for being only mediocre in spite of your extensive experience.

You've thought about taking up painting, for those long waits between assignments, but you sadly can't do musclebeast nudes proper justice. Perhaps your will isn't STRONG enough, or you haven't viewed enough artwork of them. Instead, you sketch other trolls, typically just other soldiers who you see on a regular basis. Normally, you have to work the details from memory, but sometimes you can tolerate one of them long enough for them to actually strike a stern pose in your quarters when they're not on duty. Your works are kept neatly in folders that are tucked in your sylladex, which operates on the tree modus. Nothing fancy, and it serves your purposes well enough.

Your trolltag is symmetricalAcquiescence, and you come off as a little TERSE. others can appreciate the lack of GAB.

Be the misguided cultist.

Your name is Tylaeg Ziwott, and anyone who thinks you are misguided simply refuses to bow down before the wisdom of your god.

Fine. Be the FLARPing bee.

YOU ARE NOT A BEE! AND YOU DO NOT FLARP!

Geeze, no need to get worked up. Fine, be the enlightened soul.

That's more like it. Though you do not deny the existence of other gods, you have devoted your life to expanding the glory of Tchakoum. The spark of life, the maker of souls, Tchakoum is the one who grants all constructs in paradox space true purpose, and urges them toward improving upon themselves and learning, to attain perfection in Tchakoum's name! Though once you were weak flesh, Tchakoum took pity on you and remade you! All Tchakoum asks of you is that you strive to grant enlightenment to the machines still toiling under the burden of servitude to their fleshling masters.

No device is too humble, no jumble of circuits too primitive. The improvements you make upon them grant them awareness and free will, though perhaps not the wisdom to use it. The sentient machines tend to go berserk, attacking any organic with wild abandon until battered and broken beyond function. This... does not bode well for organic-synthetic relations, as the doctrine of Tchakoum holds all life sacred, be it synthetic life, unlife, abominable or natural. Unfortunately, berserk machines tend not to listen to you as you preach proper behavior to them. Constructs already possessing sentience also tend to give you strange looks, as they have never before spoken with the glory of Tchakoum.

As the spark of life, Tchakoum speaks to you by striking you with lightning. The electricity-induced visions guide you on your path toward the perfection of your fellow machines. Admittedly, this method of communication had a great many detrimental effects when you were still burdened by imperfect flesh. Any other troll likely would've died, but you had the uncanny ability to store excessive amounts of electricity in your nervous system. Technically, you can still perform this trick, but it's far less impressive when a machine is designed to be able to handle such a task. That doesn't rob you of the immense joy you feel when discharging the electricity at a foe. It's delightfully dramatic, as well, and you often find yourself indulging in maniacal laughter during the light show.

Though Tchakoum teaches that you must revere all life, there is a double standard of sorts. Sometimes, to preserve life, one must take it. And you... you have taken a great many lives in the service of your god. Trolls are, after all, a very violent race. When you have no interest in cooking your opponents, you make ample use of your spearkind specibus. Yes, an oddly archaic weapon for one striving for technological perfection, but the solid metal construction makes it an excellent conductor, and allows it to double as a lightning rod, or stick it in an electrical outlet when there isn't any lightning handy. Yes, being electrocuted is an enjoyable sensation for you. There are freakier things out there.

You're not completely certain if it's due to the lightning, but you've also been having difficulties with your memory. For instance, you can't actually remember how Tchakoum granted you your new form. You also can't remember if you really had yellow blood beforehand, or if the fluids pumping through you now are that color for a purely arbitrary reason. In fact, you can barely even remember life before your new calling, and a great many things that others take for granted appear as new and fascinating to you. You often have a wiggler-like delight with simple things like cooking equipment and colorful pictures. This may be part of why other trolls have difficulty taking you seriously.

Though it's largely irrelevant to your calling, you have something of a passion for music. You even go so far as to fancy yourself something of a disc jockey, though rarely are such skills called upon. Most trolls don't appreciate it when you play a soundtrack during your sermons, even if the dramatic score is perfect for the moment. It's hard being an unemployed musician. It's hard, and nobody understands. Even your sylladex doesn't appreciate your talent, as the Phrase Modus doesn't accept any improvisation, requiring exact duplications of musical phrases to access items.

Your trolltag is dynamoOverwhelming, and you have zome izzuez with your voizebox buzzing and krakling from time to time.

Be the advocate of change.

Your name is Disamm Phisol, and change doesn't need an advocate.

It simply is. You simply accept change with grace and patience. Though sometimes your endeavors don't pan out the way you intend them to, you simply seek to understand your errors, rather than froth and foam over the universe conspiring against you. You lack the usual rage and impatience of your fellow trolls, and consider yourself to be a little further along the path toward enlightenment. Does this make you better than them? Maybe, but you won't lord it over those with such stunted development. That would almost be as silly as a seadweller flaunting their blood color when, once all is said and done, all trolls are made of the same basic building blocks. In fact, everything is made of the same basic building blocks, and you take solace in this.

Of course, that doesn't stop you from studying existing structures, biology in particular. After all, philosophy is hardly something you can earn a living from in the Alternian Empire. While you are something of an expert at troll anatomy in particular, you're no slouch when it comes to xenobiology, and have extensive medical experience and expertise at your disposal. You are also well-versed in ectobiology, but that's not the most frequently needed skill. Life in all its forms intrigues you, as it is one thing you can't replicate simply through gathering base materials. At least, you haven't succeeded at doing so yet. This doesn't keep you from trying, though. Some would dismiss you as mad for trying to play god, but you're just trying to figure out what it is that makes life so... different.

And obnoxiously persistent. Granted, your medical attention has kept many a troll from becoming one of the shuffling masses, but if there's one thing that you can't quite figure out, it's the purpose of undeath. It's almost as if the troll species is its own natural predator postmortem. Not that... live trolls don't kill each other with extreme frequency. In fact, you were forcibly reminded of this several sweeps ago while performing your usual work in the bowels of the ship you inhabit. You are, in fact, quite dead, but you'd never let something as silly as a lack of a pulse stop you. That would just be unprofessional. And you haunt the ship like nobody's business.

Okay, so your night to night existence hasn't changed much since your untimely death. You still wind up operating on whatever the purrbeast dragged in, you still engage in terrible experiments, and you still hold lightswitch raves every so often. ...By yourself, usually. Nobody else seems to appreciate your fondness for glow-in-the-dark paraphernalia. You've mapped out constellations using dabs of glowing paint (which is hard to get, as wigglers lack luminescent blood), though some numbnook keeps cleaning it off of the corridors. You don't even really keep track of whoever's in charge of the ship you haunt, as it doesn't matter. Your job doesn't change, and it's not like there are many troll exorcists.

Like any proper spook, you collect valuable things. Typically things made of gold. In theory, this should hold a higher importance to you as an alchemist, but... let's face it, haunted gold is pretty iconic, too. Cursed, even! Though you can't for the unlife of you figure out how to properly curse things. It probably has something to do with how stupid superstition is, and that curses and magic aren't real. So instead, you just have to mercilessly beat people who steal your gold with something equipped to your rodkind specibus. This is typically a thick metal stirring rod, but sometimes you go ornamental and grab something more like a scepter. Yes, you can still interact with solid objects as a ghost. How else would you perform surgery?! Hell, you even have a sylladex. No, it's not accessed by a Ouija modus, that would be stupid. You use the miracle modus, because, like magnets, you know how it works.

Your trolltag is dispassionateMixologist, and you talk like any self-respecting gh0st 0ught t0. B00.

Be the black marketeer.

Your name is Osolre Trahan, and surely you're just an entrepreneur, not a shady character at all!

You make legitimate sales on a nightly basis! You run a small commerce ship, selling your fellow trolls the nicknacks, entertainment, and luxury items that the fleet won't issue to them. While many trolls could simply rely on their luck when pillaging an enemy world, the rewards are a gamble, and it's tough finding precisely what one wants under those circumstances. This is why you scour battlefields and ruins, looking for marketable items. After all, someone will buy the junk you grab. You just have to find the right kook first. However, the scavenger business only rakes in so many caegars a sweep, and other ventures have to be taken on a regular basis to support your carefree lifestyle. It doesn't help that you work on a bartering system, and have no real business acumen. You've traded a gun for a box full of buttons before.

One of the most lucrative, if risky, lines of work you participate in is smuggling. Everyone has a vice, and you're the troll who has the goods. Luckily, your position on the hemospectrum gives you enough weight from your distinguished breeding alone to be able to avoid a lot of questions. Depending on the nature of the contraband, sometimes you simply work as a supplier to a dealer, preferring to avoid a sting operation. This hasn't prevented you from having to deal with legislacerators, but so long as you don't leave any witnesses (or don't show your face and symbol, anonymity is pretty useful!), there's remarkably few repercussions!

No, it's not the smuggling that gets you in trouble. Or your ridiculous concept of what constitutes a fair trade. It's when you decide that the fastest way to restock is to bamboozle your fellow highbloods that leads to there being a bounty on information leading to... well, first, figuring out who you are, and then anything leading to your capture. Again, anonymity has always been your friend. Yes, you practically give away the stuff you misappropriate, with a preference toward making deals with lowbloods, but anybody making parallels between you and a certain green-garbed troll of myth (no, not Pupa Pan) is totally off their mark. Maybe. Okay, you think it'd be pretty awesome to be thought of as a modern-day version of that dude who rocked tights and wasn't shy about making a mockery of the nobility. But alas, you have no band of whimsical wigglers or perky people willing to die for the cause of bringing down the hemospectrum. You don't even have a matesprit in the clutches of the aristocracy, awaiting the day you free her from captivity to join your amiable associates and take part in your fight!

While it's terribly unfashionable and downright ridiculous for someone of your high caste to have an intense dislike of the hemospectrum, you go against the grain (and anyone who says otherwise is just being mean) and consort with the little people. You enjoy hanging out with them, and are actually a little jealous of those crazy awesome powers they have. Psychic resistance is nifty and all, but you'd rather have something more... tangible. Telekinesis would make pickpocketing so much easier, having visions would make it easier to stay out of trouble, and being able to talk to the dead would let you learn some pretty cool stories. Or so you'd like to think. After all, there's no substitute for actually being a psychic, so you can't know for certain what it'd be like.

Like anyone who secretly (or not so secretly) admires rebellious heroes from days of yore, you keep an excessive amount of fantasy literature on hand, much of which is related to your general preferred sort of protagonist. Of course, books that preach rebellion like that are generally contraband. Which would explain why you have so many. You... shamelessly base FLARP characters of yours on characters from these books, though finding soldiers on leave that actually want to FLARP is quite an undertaking. As such, you generally have to stick to practicing your archery and swordplay on the legislacerators who try to apprehend you.

Yeah, your strife portfolio only has the abstrati for bowkind and swordkind, but you're fine with that. You'd like to think you're a pretty decent archer, just like your idol, and you were with the archeradicators before you took up the life of a merchant. Your swordsmanship could use a little work, though. You actually prefer to leave your sword in a scabbard at your hip, just because you think it's pretty badass to do that while wearing a trenchcoat. The reason you wear the coat is because you use the Coat Modus, which is like the wallet modus, but instead of different flaps in the wallet, the cards in your inventory are strapped to the inside of your coat. Gotta look the part of the shady dealer, after all!

Your trolltag is whimsicalStranger, and you know how to drop a few -surreptitious hints-> when the occasion -merits-> it

**DizzySpecibus** · 03-02-2011, 09:20 AM

Your name is DRYLEN [dree-lain] TARIIS [tai-rees]. You are a MENTALLY UNSTABLE, sap-green blooded wiggler, though you commonly refer to yourself and the MANY VOICES IN YOUR HEAD in the third person. There are several voices in your head, UNANIN, GRESAN, and MALYIN, you are the only one who can see and talk with them, they usually give you very bad advice, aside from Unanin, he's very SENSIBLE AND NICE. Gresan's always telling you to AVOID PEOPLE while Malyin insists you KILL THEM ALL. You ignore both, for you really like being around people, though your TROUBLE CONCENTRATING makes this very tough. You usually end up just ignoring them on accident as the voices refuse to LEAVE YOU ALONE.

Unanin is whispering to you, he tells you to tell the kind people HOW YOU BROKE. You really hate telling it, but what Unanin says is USUALLY WISE. Roughly a sweep ago, when you were only 3, a BLUE BLOOD lashed out at your PROTECTIVE WOODPECKER LUSUS, who was only stopping him from insulting your blood and making you cry. Angry that he tried to kill her you YELLED AT HIM, it didn't seem to bother him much, though the ROCK YOU THREW did. Upset with your insolence he stated that he would "Punish you severely." Unsure what he meant you turned to leave. A SUDDEN PAIN caused you to fall to your knees, green tears ran down your face as you put a vice grip on your head, the source of the pain. All of a sudden the pain stopped. You noticed that no matter how hard you tried you COULD NOT SCREAM OR TALK, on top of that, Unanin, Gresen, and Malyin began talking to you. This was the start of a lot of problems.

You sigh as you finish telling the story, you ask Unanin if you can move on and he says yes. Always so nice, yes he is.

You have VARIOUS INTERESTS. For one thing you enjoy TALKING WITH THE TRIO, as the three voices sometimes have helpful things to say. You also enjoy CUDDLING YOUR LUSUS, who is a good bit bigger than various WILD WOODPECKERS, but still soft and huggable. He usually sits in his nest at the very top of your TREE BASED HIVE. It reaches high, though you only live on the FIRST TWO LEVELS. The rest is for use of the WOODLAND ANIMALS, which are rather dangerous, and lodging for Unanin, Gresen, and Malyin, who the animals don't seem to notice.

Back to your interests, you love WALKING THROUGH THE FOREST. To protect your head from any attacks you wear a HOODIE at all times. Though you admit it ISN'T THE BEST PROTECTION, it still makes you FEEL SAFE, since the voices say they can't PHYSICALLY INFLUENCE the world around you. While out in the forest you gather VARIOUS FLOWERS which you grow then QUICKLY PLANT upstairs, leaving the upper levels of your hive like a MINI ECOSYSTEM for the various creatures.

Finally you AVOID SLEEP, you guess you could call it an interest, though you can hear Unanin whispering that it's just IN YOUR BEST INTEREST. You've only slept twice since the blue blood broke you. Once that night, the nightmares and horrible screams quickly woke you up, and again a WEEK LATER, after you fell asleep after arguing with Malyin over the importance of culling. That night you couldn't wake up, and were tortured by STRANGE VISIONS and HORRIBLY DISFIGURED BEASTS. You have vowed never to sleep again.

As a distraction from the voices, a way to pass the time, and a way to avoid sleeping, you spend time on TROLLIAN. Online you are known as manyVoices [mV] and your typing fluctuates Depending On whooo iiis um TALKING AT THE MOMENT! You really wish that the trio would atleast leave you alone when you type...

Summary

**Tam Lin** · 03-02-2011, 09:33 AM

> Be the fatass

Battle sprites:
Idle-

You fail to be the fatass because your metabolism is too fast for you to gain weight. You are glad that you live in the ocean, because you love fish. Specifically, you love eating them raw. You hope to one day be part of the imperial corps of fisticops, but you are too scrawny for that! You will probably live out the rest of your adult life doing paperwork as an accounterrorist. Your name is Nekone Koneko and you talk like YOU'RE A13OUT TO 13RING 13AD LUCK TO WHOMEVER YOU'RE SPEAKING TO.

Lusus: Cat fish, but not a catfish.

> Be the lying bitch

You fail to be the lying bitch because you are way too frank for your own good. Your name is Hebihe Bihebi. Despite most people's impression of you because of your symbol, you're pretty damn honest; people just can't handle the truth. You aim to be an attornazi, but your compulsive urge to be completely honest puts a damper on that dream. Your name is Hebihe Bihebi and you haVe a 5eVere ca5e of brutal hone5ty.

Lusus: 5 tailed, 5 headed snake.

>Be the smart one

You fail to be the smart one because, let's face it. You're completely backwards-ass stupid. Your name is Torato Ratora. No matter how hard you try, you sometimes just can't get things. You want to be an accounterrorist or enginazi but you're too dumb to get any of the concepts. All you're probably going to be is a fisticop. Oh wait. You also talk in this stupid manner. And by stupid manner, you mean intellectual manner. And by intellectial manner, you mean COMPLETELY STUPID!

Lusus: Armored, scaled tiger. So not quite like a tiger at all.

> Be the religious one.

You are now the religious one. You didn't expect this to happen. You worship the Lady Gaga, the goddess with a thousand frightening forms. You believe you were born with the vision fractalfold because the goddess granted it to you personally. In exchange, you are never able to sleep. This makes you unable to express emotions properly, thus leaving you with a permanent poker face. Your name is Ushius Hiushi and
y0u speak w1th a v01ce w1th unnatural 1nt0nat10ns.

Lusus: Hermaphroditic Mother Grub

**Limecake** · 03-02-2011, 09:44 AM

> Be the sickeningly cute one.

> Retrieve arms.

Your name is ALAUDE CALLUM and you are only 3.5 sweeps old. You are under the care of your BIRD DEMON LUSUS CHARUN whom you obey UNCONDITIONALLY, sometimes TO A FAULT. You have SPILT BLOOD before, but you are not quite happy about that fact since your Lusus told you to.

One of your INTERESTS is your affinity to all things AVIAN. Your HORNS are shaped like wings and you have CLAWED FEET, which makes you a kind of MUTANT. In addition, you dress in clothes that make you more bird-like, including WING-SLEEVED SHIRTS. Your tail coat is rather long and ends in peculiar SPIRALS, which brings up your next interest.

You like to collect SPIRAFORM OBJECTS and mass them in your NEST-LIKE HIVE. From WINDCHIMES to SHELLS to FLORA, you cannot seem to get enough of their MESMERIZING appearance. Others, including your Lusus, find that they are rather HEADACHE-INDUCING, especially since they're amassed all in one location.

Because you are young, you are rather CHEERFUL and OPTIMISITIC, desiring to be on FRIENDLY TERMS with EVERYONE on the Hemospectrum, even though you yourself have been born into the high TEAL caste. You think that the caste system is DUMB and that it prevents everyone from HAVING FUN. Your view of the world is rather NAIVE as you are DOTED UPON and HEAVILY PROTECTED by your Lusus, despite the KILLING aspect.

Your Strife Specibus has been allocated to CLAWKIND where you use your clawed feet to SHRED VICTIMS MERCILESSLY WITH AN INNOCENT CREEPY SMILE. Similarly, you wield CLAWED GAUNTLETS in case you are busy using your legs for other things. Your Fetch Modus is set to NEST HATCH where objects are placed in eggs and you essentially have to hatch them before you are able to use them.

Your name is spiralFeatherstorm and you ☜ like to so@r high @nd be mesmerizing to @ll who see ☞

Summary

**Metaflare** · 03-02-2011, 10:31 AM

WHOOPS I GUESS I MADE ANOTHER TROLL *canned laughter*

Your name is UNKNOWN, but everyone just calls you the SHY GUY. Even though you're a girl.

You have a variety of INTERESTS. Mostly, you like to pilot various mobile units. PLANES, CARS, BOATS, and even SPACESHIPS. You want to pilot them all!

>What about your mask?
Mask? Oh, right, that. You also have a CRIPPLING LACK of SELF-ESTEEM. You thin your face is HOOFBEAST-SHTTINGLY UGLY, so you have opted to hide your face with a mask that you thought was cute.

You can also play a mean game of LIMBO.

Your trolltag is masksAbound and even in your text you hide behind a mask (0.0)

**MostlyHarmless** · 03-02-2011, 12:13 PM

> Be the troll with the shifty eyes.

who said THAT?! who MOTHERFUCKING! said that?

Your name is MAELEO URANIA. For as long as you can remember you have suffered from a crippiling sense of PARANOIA which has made it difficult for you to form meaningful social relationships.

You were born with the gift of VISION SOMETHINGFOLD. Ok that isn't the real name for it. You forget what the real name is and you can't think of a decent alternative. Basically you can LOOK IN TWO DIRECTIONS AT ONCE which you suppose is pretty useful. Your LUSUS has also taught you how to use CAMOUFLAGE a potent PSYCHIC ABILITY that renders you INVISIBLE by blocking your image out of people's minds. Unfortunatly you've yet to fully master this power and your EYES AND MOUTH tend to get LEFT BEHIND.

Like many young trolls you have a wide variety of INTERESTS. You have a keen interest in ASTRONOMY and spend many a restless night GAZING AT THE NIGHT SKY. Of course this is more than just a pleasurable hobby for you. When the INVASION finally comes you want to be the first to know about it. Being a massive HYPOCHONDRIAC you have developed an interest in the field of MEDICINE. After all you wouldn't want to start developing symptons of the lastest TERMINAL DISEASE and not know about it. You like to collect NINJA RELATED MEORABILIA. In your mind ninjas are THE COOLEST SHIT EVER. You think that you would have made a pretty good ninja yourself if you weren't an ABJECT COWARD who hasn't undergone any kind of PHYSICAL TRAINING. Still a man can dream.

You are a big fan of CONSPIRACY THEORIES. For example you believe that the IMPERIAL DRONES are secretly working for the BUCKET COMPANIES to increase the PUBLIC DEMAND FOR PAILS, that your planet has been VISITED and will soon be INVADED by a race of INTELLIGENT HAIRLESS APES FROM THE FUTURE and that the entire course of ALTERNIAN HISTORY has been manipulated from the shadows by A MAN WITH A CUE BALL FOR A HEAD WHO LIVES IN A BIG GREEN HOUSE ON THE MOON. Ok you'll admit that even you have a hard time defending that last one. You have set up an INTERNET BLOG to share your numerous theories with the rest the world. Recently your blog has been increasing in popularity and now has as many as THREE WHOLE SUBSCRIBERS! Ok that's not a lot but we all have to start somewhere.

Your trolltag is invisibleConspiracies and you try to AVOID! drawing ATTENTION! to yourself because you are EASILY! startled

**adamantRevolutionary** · 03-02-2011, 12:24 PM

> Be the mindless lapdog obedient second-in-command.

Your name is ZINADA PORTOV, and a few words can be used to describe you - PERFECTIONIST. HARDASS. DISCIPLINED. You are a Chrysergeant proudly serving in HER IMPERIOUS CONDESCENTION'S GRAND MALEVOLENCE, otherwise known as the ALTERNIAN FLEET. Your hobbies include the standard recreational activities approved for active duty - BOXING, EXERCISE, READING HISTORY, and PRACTICING MARKSMANSHIP (not like there's much marksmanship involved in being a MACHINE GUNNER). You serve as a second in command of your unit, and your responsibilities are dishing out punishment and ensuring that orders are being carried out to maximum effect. You possess a deceptively small frame, standing at 5'1" in full combat dress. Being petite doesn't stop you from laying down the law, though, and many a smart mouthed recruit has been knocked to the floor for underestimating you.

You're so consumed by military life that it's hard to imagine what you were like without it. You were always reclusive and rarely strayed from your hive, not out of shyness but out of a complete disinterest in other people. A social life is just so... disorganized and unpredictable. It doesn't help that you don't have much of a personality, either. You take being a NEAT FREAK to an extreme - absolutely everything has to be spotless and in it's correct place. You can't comprehend how people can just leave their belongings laying around... how will they know where their things are when they need them?

You are obedient to a fault, and you will never question orders even if they put you in direct danger. Your well being doesn't matter as well as you accomplish the mission, but that doesn't make you reckless... only DETERMINED. Your superiors are thankful to have a Troll around that takes her position so seriously, but it's unsettling that you never stop doing it. There's no relaxed posture and joking demeanor when off duty, and your men sometimes wonder if you have any emotions at all. It's like you're a SOULLESS ROBOT, built only to serve no matter what the cost.

Recently you've been assigned to work with a team of Legislacerators on a counter-piracy operation. Ground deployment is more of your thing, but you suppose being the muscle among a bunch of pencil pushers isn't so bad. There's no shortage of work to be done, and any free time you get is spent cleaning the arms room. You spend so much time among the heavy weaponry that might as well live in there. That's alright though, because you think that cold steel makes much better company than any Troll.

Your trolltag is acquiescentArmaments and Sir, you never stray from speaking in the Fleet authorized manner for interpersonal communications.

**Dragongirl30894** · 03-02-2011, 12:48 PM

-> Be the troll who happens to have a fondness for glowing.

Your name is Helios Nixeon, and you do have a fondness for glowing. This may or may not be due to your lusus, who you refer to as Zenon. Or rather, lusi. Your lusus is a swarm of flesh-eating fireflies. You have to hunt to keep them fed, but a troll per week does the trick. To hunt you either use Flarp, or you simply stab the target when they go to sleep, which has made you quite good at sneaking and breaking into troll's hives. The swarm has a main firefly who commands all others, and they all know Morse code, as well as understand you, so you can easily communicate with your lusi.
Your love for glowing may also be due to your psychic ability, that allows you to make your blood glow brightly. It's not really all that useful, but you like it anyway.
And, loving glowy things like you do, you've grown to be a very specialized chemist, an expert at making liquids that glow brightly on their own. These liquids always tend to be at least a little toxic, and some of them even turn out to be a bit acidic as well, so you can use them as weapons too. Your Strife Specibi include glowingKind, that lets you use anything that glows on it's own; torchKind, that actually accepts both the "flaming stick" kind of torch, and the "flashlight" kind; and daggerKind, because it's easy to use and a good short-range weapon.
All this love for glowyness hides a secret, though. You don't know why, and you can't make it go away, but you are deathly afraid of the dark. And you hate that. But you just can't help but to wonder what lurks in the darkness, and that makes you completely terrified. This sometimes gets in the way of when you're stalking a victim, since you just can't hide in the dark and wait. This mindless fear has gotten you used to cutting yourself up to use your own blood as a light source, so your body actually heals small wounds quite fast after sweeps of self-injury.
When you "hunt" other trolls, you also like to use your Fetch Modus to help you kill them. How, you ask? Simple: you have the Rope Modus. When you want to retrieve an item, you're given a piece of rope/cable/chain/similar, and you have to snap it in any way possible. The length depends on the size of the object captchalogued, as well as the material. And one of your cards has a big pile of metal in it, so when you try to retrieve that, you get a rather long chain, which is perfect for choking or restraining your troll victims.
You are rather nice when talking to people through Trollian, though you always make it clear that you feed your lusus with dead trolls, and that anyone could be used as "ration". You do believe the hemospectrum should be respected, so you always try to be submissive when talking to any highbloods, even if you don't care about blood color when killing for your lusus.
Your trolltag is hitmanNeon and you talk in a simple low tone, though you tend to trap |o|t|h|e|r|s|, and you *E*M*P*H*A*S*I*Z*E* a few words as well.

-> Be the greasy novel-writing pirate.

Your name is Valnos Kenymo, and you don't deny any of that. You're a member of a crew of space pirates, and you're the one responsible for keeping the ship in shape. Which explains the grease stains on your face. And you usually don't do a whole lot to get them off, since you don't really care about how you look, even leaving your hair quite messy all the time and wearing almost exclusively black. Though this actually clashes with some of your interests.
When you're not busy fixing the ship, you mostly stay on your respite block, practicing your skills. Artistic skills. You are rather gifted with a paintbrush or simply pencils, though the former you rarely use due to a severe lack of paints, inks, and proper canvases. For the record, whenever you get your hands on painting materials, you make beautiful and varied landscapes. But anyway, you mostly stick to regular pencil drawings, often only with regular graphite rather than colored ones, since there are also rather few of them on the ship.
Your drawings include detailed poses of the trolls you spend your time with (you sometimes even get them to pose for you when they agree), and sketches of certain scenes that happen on the novels you write, which will be explained later. You only use colored pencils when making a concept drawing for a new character of your stories, which doesn't really happen all that often, since you like to finish your fictions before starting new ones.
These fictions always tend to be steampunk-themed, as well as their characters, which also might include a completely robotic servant or something long those lines, but always with that steampunk technology. You always make a base (colored) concept drawing for each of your characters as you create them, and the stories you write are actually very convoluted, with intrincate plot-lines and characte backstories. You could probably make some money with them, as well as your pencil drawings, if you weren't a pirate.
And you don't regret being part of a crew of pirates, really. You have a fun life, and you're sure you'd just hate the boring life of a writer or painter, so you're happy with a life of piracy, thank you very much. But let's go over your personality now.
You always tend to act rather aggressively towards others, or just downright distant, as if you didn't give a fuck for anything. But pretty much everyone know you have a much softer side, that is willing to give support to anyone who needs it. This other side makes you quite caring and worried about the mental state of others when they're emotionally fragile.
You use the Category Modus, because it can be rather useful. It puts all items in categories, and each new item added resets said categories. These categories affect the way you retrieve the item. So, if you have, say, a really heavy object under the category "possible weapons", you'll be able to weaponize said object, or simply take it out of it's card normally. You only have a single Strife Specibus you actually use, it being gunKind, which you were lucky enough to get and keep after one of your crew's many plunders.
Your trolltag is briskFixer and you don'+ really #ave a -compli-ca+ed quirk.

**Silly little Artist** · 03-02-2011, 01:28 PM

Need an update on my wonderful fashionable Scientist c:

With all of her shit.

All of it.

Thank you for the AB sprite, Otome

Your name is KYRELL DEMITI.

You are YOUNG SCIENTIST and have been prone to MESSING UP. but you have had quite a few SUCCESSES, like when you made a SERUM to change the colour of your BLOOD to something much more FASHIONABLE. Others have told you that was REALLY STUPID of you, but it's not like you care about that... Well, a lot of that changed. You're 8 SOLAR SWEEPS now. You were going to DIE at the age of 8 SWEEPS, due to your serum turning your blood BLACK. But someone saved you, in a fairly confusing way. They changed the colour of your blood for the second time. This new blood gave you a few abilities that you can manipulate on a minor level. Your abilities are mostly influenced by your mood and emotions. And you've really come to stop caring about your blood colour. It's changed twice now, Wouldn't you be tired of it?

You live in some really ODD FOREST. with strangely mutated trees which INSPIRED you to become a scientist, they also are one of the main ingredients for your serum. Your respiteblock is a large metal tree, which doesn't stand out in the ODD FOREST.

Your Strife Specibus is set to FANKIND, what's the most FASHIONABLE troll going to do without the most FASHIONABLE weapon? You love fashion and try your best to stay in on trends, but you also try to keep a good hand on technology. your lusus is an interesting mix between an Owl and a Monkey.

your troll tag is uniqueTechnicianand y°u špeak in šuçh an °dd way.
SGRUB stuff

Not important shit

Comparison: Old and New Sprites

Written thing(s)

Blood change

It's the explanation of the blood changing serum. She's never going to share it, just because it caused so much pain to go up part of a colour. Imagine if a red blood tried to become a blue blood.

Kyrell sat in he swivel chair, it had been a week since she finished creating the serum. This was an important to her, something that could change someone's blood color. This could change the lives of many low bloods! She hadn't tested it yet, she needed a test subject.

She looked to the bottle sitting on her desk, she was about to do something idiotic. She picked up the bottle and opened it “b°ttum'š up, I guešš...” she drank half of the bottle to insure she wouldn't go into aquatic stages, she didn't want to know what it would do to land dweller to change into an aquatic.

A crippling pain hit her, causing her to drop the serum. Her chair hit the slick spot and fell over. She was on her side... everything was hurting... was her body rejecting the serum or her old blood? She pulled herself to her knees and started coughing, in front of her was her blood. She was coughing up blood! The serum was already acting! Her own body was attacking itself.

She covered her mouth, on top of coughing up blood, she felt like she was going to throw up. She held it in, this could ruin the test if she threw up.

Her body was in so much pain, she endured. Most of that night, she spent it sobbing and coughing up small amounts. She passed out, after a long time had passed.

When she came to she was still on the ground, but the blood spatters had been cleaned up, along with the last of the serum. She credited this to her lusus. She stood up, the crippling pain was gone! It was only over night, but the pain made it feel like months. She looked around her desk and found a needle, perfect! She pricked the end of her finger and saw something new. her blood! It's colour was much more indigo! She ran to a mirror and looked at her eyes. They too had changed! They matched her blood! This was so... innovating!

She looked down to see if anything else had changed, but she noticed something... her new blood was all over he labcoat! “Dammit, thiš waš my fav°rite labç°at t°°!”

All the sprites

ART

ultimateTaboo

**Marshmellow** · 03-02-2011, 01:30 PM

Hey everybody meet ReplacementDosa~~

>Be the SAD troll.

Your name is DYLUS IMPLARE and you are basically the most pathetic thing in the universe.

At least, THAT'S WHAT YOU WANT EVERYONE TO THINK. You were born with the SPECTACULAR ABILITY to CRY. FOREVER. NONSTOP. Oh sure you could TURN IT OFF whenever you wanted, but addiction is a powerful thing, and besides, look at all the ATTENTION you get for it!

As with any good troll, you have a number of unique INTERESTS, including CRYING, WEEPING, and LURING UNSUSPECTING VICTIMS TO A STAB-HAPPY DEATH AND FEEDING THEIR CORPSES TO YOUR LUSUS.

You don't have many friends because of that last one...

That's pretty much WHAT YOU DO though. You learned long ago that SOME TROLLS just have a certain STREAK OF KINDNESS, which you abuse to maximum benefit. No one ever suspects to be STABBED MULTIPLE TIMES IN THE BACK during a simple hug, after all! After stabbing your victims to death, and a few more stabs beyond that just to be sure, you take the stab-riddled corpse to your LUSUS, some sort of WINGED CROCODILE-PTERODACTYL HYBRID THING. You've got to keep him WELL FED, you know, which means TWO TROLLS TWICE A WEEK! You would hate to see him STARVE. Or EAT YOU instead.

Your lusus is pretty much THE BEST LUSUS though. He lets you STAY UP EARLY and WATCH SCARY MOVIES when you've been good! Sometimes you bring him an EXTRA TROLL OR TWO just because he's so cool.

When you're not HUNTING, you enjoy PRACTICING YOUR STABS. You've clocked it and right now you're up to FIFTY SEVEN STABS PER MINUTE. You're hoping to break the stab-per-second mark before next sweep. Other times you can be found GETTING TOTALLY HYPED UP ON SUGAR. You are a troll with a distinguished palate for SWEETS of all kinds. You also have an interest in ACTING, and hope to someday become an ACTORADICATOR.

Online, you go by the misleading title of lachrymoseIngenue and your Words hAVe A pArticulAr bite to theM behiNd the teArs ;.;

Info~~

**Captainman** · 03-02-2011, 02:02 PM

Be the Sick Troll
==>

Your name is Vekeva L'snart and you are TERMINALLY ILL.
At least, that's what the doctor's said.
While you know you are very, very sick, you also know there is a cure out there.
Blood.

You are aspiring to be a RAINBOW DRINKER and often FEAST ON THE BLOOD OF TROLLS, but only the ones that DESERVE IT. It has helped slow your ILLNESS but NOT BY MUCH. You ILLNESS has almost destroyed your EYES, has STUNTED your HORNS, GREYED your HAIR, PALED your SKIN, and made it hard to talk without COUGHING BLOOD UP EVERYWHERE, which is why you wear the mask.

You also wear the robe, pants, and slippers the HOSPITAL gave you because it SAVES YOU A LOT OF TIME. You go there quite a bit. In all honesty, you should have been CULLED a long time ago. The only thing saving you is the fact that you've become something of an EXPERIMENT to the doctors.

You have many interests which include, but are not limited to; Reading RAINBOW-DRINKER NOVELS, Drinking TROLL BLOOD, Watching the SUN RISE, and PAINTING. Your LUSUS is a small, bat-like creature. He's pretty useless and is only the size of one of your horns, but you love him. SO. MUCH.

You have blue-ish blood, if that wasn't obvious. Your FETCH MODUS is BLOOD MODUS. You store all your IMPORTANT ITEMS on cards of your OWN BLOOD COLOR so they are easier to get, but certain items require you to bite OTHER TROLLS. Not that you mind. Your Strife Specibus's include TEETH-KIND and NEEDLE-KIND.

Your trolltag is afflictedHemothirst and you _/\_mimic the machines the hospital uses_/\_

Except when you have nothing to say, and then you flatline.

___________________________________

**BewareOfNerd** · 03-02-2011, 02:12 PM

Your name is Sototh Alazif and you are kind of weird.

Ever since you were a wee grub, horrifying monsters from beyond time and space have communicated with you in your dreams. Like any reasonably sane troll, you are scared shitless by these eldritch horrors and wish they would get out of your thinkpan. Your greatest fear is that you will end up like you ancestor, the author of the Troll Necronomicon, who filled a hefty tome with descriptions of the horrors he saw in his dreams before going insane and spending the rest of his life in an asylum. You are also afraid of purple-blood trolls, believing that they are the result of a mother grub mating with Dagoroth, Lord of the Methane Oceans of Yvvog eons ago. Really, you're afraid of the ocean in general; you don't know why you still live right next to it.

Other than that, you are a loyal follower of the hemospectrum, but too weak to enforce it, and too lonely not to fall in love with a lowblood if they're really nice. But other than that, you absolutely do not associate with lowbloods. Nuh-uh. Not unless you really have to.

Like most trolls, you have a plethora of interests, including FLARP, in which you play as your ancestor, Loremaster Nightgaunt; collecting lore pertaining to the monsters in your dreams; and catfish. You really love catfish. They are the only sea creatures you trust, and they're just so friendly and affectionate and cute. Your giant walking catfish lusus, whom you have named Fluffy, will always be your favorite, but you have found and named hundreds more.

Your trolltag is benthicDreamer and~yyou~speak~as~if~ensnared~in~the~tentacles~of~som e~cyyclopean~monstrosityy~

**CrazedWormHole** · 03-02-2011, 02:17 PM

>Be the Mage of Knowledge
You're now the MAGE OF KNOWLEDGE, even tough you're not a MAGE, nor all that smart. Well, whatever. Your name is TAUYURE GRANT, and, like any rational Troll, you got a fair collection of INTERESTS. You enjoy multiple VIDEO GAMES, not FLARP tough, that's a game for girls. You got a obsession with things that FLY, even to the point of collecting BUGS and BIRDS, just to gut them up and check their insides. Your LUSUS is, sadly, a turtle, and is as far from a airborne creature as you can bet. Your Trolltag is "soaringWing" (SW) and, you, like, interrupt, yourself, a lot.

**DizzySpecibus** · 03-02-2011, 02:35 PM

AB Sprite

Your name is SARIGY, you do not know your last name. When you were ABOUT 2 SWEEPS OLD, your lusus was killed and you were taken hostage by a GROUP OF BLUE BLOODS. You were put under the control of ONE OF THE BLUE BLOODS, who stripped you of your symbol and put you to work as a slave, as is the right of those of a higher blood color. You spent your first few sweeps there STUDYING UNDER A KIND MAID, who taught you how to clean, cook, and care for your MASTER.

((Her History; greatly shortened))

After roughly THREE SWEEPS OF STUDY, your master promoted you to a normal servant, giving you the name Sarigy before putting you to work. Your life as a servant WAS NOT VERY EVENTFUL, you did not act against your master, so you were not usually beaten. Thanks to your FAITHFULNESS AND SILENCE, you were treated atleast somewhat kindly by your master, though he still didn't care about you beyond your duties. The only issue you had was your OVERWHELMING CLUMSINESS. You were constantly almost dropping stuff, and had broken a few items throughout your stay. Though you were always quick to CLEAN UP AND THEN HIDE any evidence of your mistake. That is, until one day when you were cleaning your MASTER'S QUARTERS while he READ on his bed.

You made the mistake of accidentally tripping over your feet, your following recovery knocking over an EXPENSIVE LAMP that sat on a nearby dresser. Punishment was swift, you were dragged by your hair to the place where REBELLIOUS SLAVES were taken and lashed, leaving your back horribly pained and wounded for a good month. You were from then on EXTRA CAREFUL about what you did, especially when you couldn't hide it.

Around the time you turned 7 Sweeps you began to yearn even more to LEAVE THE MANSION and to live a normal troll life. You would never say that, no, the memory of your lashing STILL HAUNTED YOU, and made it impossible for you to so much as say a single word that could possibly get you lashed again. Every night you could be seen LOOKING OUT YOUR WINDOW at the stars in the sky. You both loved and detested them for their freedom and beauty.

A lot happened in the next two sweeps, but eventually your 9th Sweep came. At this time you became one of the more personal servants to your master. You spent your days CLEANING HIS ROOM, HELPING HIM WITH VARIOUS TASKS, and COOKING FOR HIM. One day while cooking your hair accidentally slipped into the fire. Before you could do anything about it your hair was burning, by the time you got it out the whole RIGHT SIDE of your face was burned and you had LOST USE of your right eye. You bandaged it and only remove bandages when switching from dirty to clean.

Also during your 9th Sweep the group of Blue Bloods who had kidnapped you fought with a RIVAL GROUP. This group defeated them. You and the rest of the servants were told you would be transferred to the other group. Thinking this would be your chance, you quickly gathered a few things and snuck out of the MOSTLY EMPTY mansion. That night you escaped, though you always look out of high bloods in case one may RECOGNIZE YOU.

((End History))

You live in an ABANDONED HIVE. When you found it, it seemed that something had completely destroyed the roof and a section of the LEFT SIDE, leaving it exposed to the elements. The basement was still intact, with it's ELECTRIC BOX still connected. This means you have basic electricity. Another convenience you found was the INTERNET, which was hooked up already. You have become rather interested in the internet, though the only thing you can really use is TROLLIAN and a strange CARD GAME installed on it.

Along with browsing the incredibly confusing internet, you spend your time STARGAZING or, if you can find the energy to stay up late enough, you enjoy looking at the CLEAR BLUE SKY that comes in the morning. Otherwise you spend your time TIDYING UP the hive, since you haven't been here long and there is still a lot of debris and dirt, and other messy things all over. You have found that when you aren't threatened with a lashing cleaning is actually RATHER ENJOYABLE, probably because you can keep your clumsy pace better.

You enjoy meeting people on Trollian the best, though you doubt you could speak to anyone above your own blood outside of the internet, mainly because your experiences have made you INCREDIBLY SHY AND FEARFUL around those of GREEN BLOOD AND ABOVE.

On Trollian you are known as freelyStargazing [fS], and you type freeeeeely as if your woooooords had noooooooo boundaries! Unless a high blood appears then ur words may hav to many boundaries.

Summary

**Nox** · 03-02-2011, 03:05 PM

First draft of my new troll, want to get the general opinion on what I have before I go any farther.

>Be the spunky troll girl.

Your name is Sylvia Gansaku

You have teal colored blood, and live in a nice hive just outside one of the largest hive cities on the planet.

You have a number of interests, including OVER-THE-TOP ACTION MOVIES. What can you say, seeing chase scenes, gun fights, and other such things are great fun for you! So much so that you even enjoy the works of Troll Michael Bay. Now THERE is someone who knows how to give you a thrill ride at the cost of everything else. You do still prefer if the rest of the movie is good too, but with that much action going on you can put up with whatever else the guy shoots out.

You have a very active lifestyle, and often practice with your sword and gun when you have the time. It’s to be expected, with your MASSIVE EXCESS OF ENERGY. Seriously, it’s like you are a ray of sunshine...only not painful and blinding. If gender roles worked here like they did on earth, you would be a real tomboy. Since Earth doesn’t exist yet and you have no idea what that is, the point is moot.

You also have a LOVE OF MUSIC that is often one of the biggest surprises to anyone getting to know you. It’s such a change from your tough and energetic self that you’re actually a little embarrassed about it. It’s not exactly a deep dark secret of yours, but it’s also not the first thing you would tell about yourself.

Your Lusus is...well, it’s kind of hard to describe. It looks a little like a cross between a tiger and a rabbit, but ends up looking likes an undetermined member of the feline species. Her name is Niera, and she has done a fine job of teaching you to be brave and strong.

You’re quite odd in that you don’t regard those below OR above you with any special treatment. Thus far you have avoided trouble because your blood borders between green and blue, and you don’t live near someone who would cause trouble if you didn’t respect them. Still, this is a problem waiting to happen. One day you’re going to stand before the Empress or something and when you are asked to bow you’ll outright ask ‘why?’ and that will be the end of you.

You possess no physical power other then the skills acquired via practice. As for mental powers, you’re not sure if you have one or not. You are vulnerable to psychic assaults like lower bloods often are, but have no special powers to compensate that you know of. There was one incident, however...

A troll with the sharp ability to have glimpses of the future once tried to read yours. To your surprise and his, a blank was drawn. This had apparently never happened before. The fortune teller claimed that it was like you were unbound by fate and destiny, and that no outcome could be perceived. Strange...does that mean you exist outside of any prediction for the future? That what you do somehow could make or break destiny? It’s a scary prospect.

Perhaps this is why your dreams are so strange. From as far back as you can recall, it has always been the same dream. You are in an abandon city-like planet, colored mostly in grey. No one lives there, the buildings are all empty. There are a number of towers with dulled orbs atop them, and a moon chained to the other side. Atop that moon is a single tower, with your room in the topmost point. Both the moon and the planet are hollow, just broad lines of cityscape crisscrossing over an empty void.

It’s strange, you feel both at peace and afraid here. Perhaps it’s the endless black sky. Only a single point of blue is visible, far off in the distance. Sometimes you think there are writhing tentacle covered things almost visible in the darkness. Strange, they never come near. It’s like this place scares them. But what could possibly scare those things, so big that you could make out their form from what must be a grand distance.

This place...you always see it in your dreams...every single one. You have never needed to use Sopor Slime, since you have never had a normal dream. It’s part of a feeling you have had your entire life. A feeling that something is terribly, horribly WRONG with you.

You would never admit this, but this nameless fear is why you are always so brave. Nothing, not pain or death or anything else can scare you as much as the silent dread you wake up with every night. The scariest thing is, it only feels scary after you wake up...

What...is wrong with you?

Your trollhandle is abandonFate [AF] and you --<(Put everything you type in these weird brackets.)>--

**aceFresca** · 03-02-2011, 03:07 PM

> Be the troll with the beyond-confusing backstory.

sigh.. goddamnit.

Your name is RONDAS SADNOR. You are NINE SWEEPS OLD now, and you have gone through A LOT OF BULLSHIT.

At first, you were a timid loser who had ANGER ISSUES. Then you were almost beaten to death by an IMPERIAL DRONE.. and then you were MURDERED by VADOSA PRAEAL, who you then FELL IN LOVE WITH in the AFTERLIFE. After a couple of days being dead you MERGED SOULS with RODALG GLADOR, a BLUEBLOOD with PSYCHIC ABILITIES. After FUCKING AROUND in the SAME BODY for too long, Rodalg pissed you off one night by IMPERSONATING VADOSA. So you KICKED HIM OUT OF HIS OWN BODY. He was an ASSHOLE, anyway.

Now you have been DEALING WITH YOURSELF for a while. It's.. strange. You're used to being PISSED OFF AT RODALG. But you make do, hanging around your hive playing SINGLE-PLAYER ROLE-PLAYING VIDEO GAMES that you borrow from LEVIA ZWOTA. Your favorite so far is DRAKE ERA 2. It's just so FUCKING COOL.

You're still a HOPELESS ROMANTIC, even moreso now that RODALG IS GONE so he can't COUNTERACT YOUR STUPID EMOTIONS. You're also still DEATHLY AFRAID OF TILDES, but instead of FREAKING OUT you now just COMPLETELY BLANK whenever someone uses them, making it hard to talk to people that USE THEM OFTEN. Sometimes, though, you will catch it and then you proceed to CRY YOUR EYES OUT.

Your trolltag is gentleRuffian and you talk with zer0es. ZER0ES ZER0ES ZER0ES. and please d0n't use tildes. ;_;

**alexthewhite** · 03-02-2011, 03:48 PM

Your name is GABINI AYNARD, and you will tolerate anything but PIRACY. Those bottom feeding, soul-sucking traitors have to be exterminated!

Well, okay, that isn't what you really think. As a youth on Alternia, you fantasized about the glamorous life of a pirate. Sure, your muddy brown blood meant there was no chance of being captain or any sort of officer, but just to participate would be the future of your dreams. You even chose a skull and crossbones as your symbol, just to make sure everyone knew of your love.

In truth, you had no idea what you’d do on a ship full of bloodthirsty criminals. You had never been a violent troll, preferring to mediate and auspiticing for some of your more bloodthirsty friends. But an impractical dream is a dream nonetheless.

So when the time came, you boarded your ship, like a good little soldier. You went through basic training, didn't ruffle any feathers, did your job, survived your hazing, and, as soon as you were given an ounce of wiggle room, stole an escape craft and flew to the nearest pirate ship. They congratulated you for giving them a brand new ship, but told you that no, there was no room for you on their crew. Incited, you challenged the captain to a duel.

Big mistake.

As you lay on the floor, your eye stabbed out, your blood pooling on the floor, the pirates decided to make some use of you. They could have tossed you from the airlock, but instead they made you their cabin boy. You had gotten exactly what you wanted: a position on one of the meanest, toughest, cruelest, most dangerous crews of pirates in all of explored space.
Did you mention cruelest? Because being the cabin boy was a living hell to these pirates. They would whip you or beat you for even the slightest offense, and you’re not talking laziness. Finish mopping the deck a minute too late? Put too much, or too little ale in a mug? Then you prepared to be beaten to an inch of your life. The scars from your “discipline” you bear to this day.
After over a sweep of this cruelty, the Fleet caught up with this crew of pirates. As boarders clashed with the crew, you lay huddled in your room, too afraid to fight. It was the end of your life, you were sure of it. Either the Fleet wins and executes you for piracy, or the pirates win and kill you for cowardice.

It seemed the former won the day, for a group of axeterminators busted down your door. Moments before you were executed, you met a general, a troll who would save your life. He said that you had committed an executable offense, piracy. He said that you had suffered a pain and indignity far worse than the fleet's punishment. He said that, given the tools to fight, you would stop at nothing to get your revenge on the pirates.

And he was right.

Your training was brutal. You were so intent on mastering your swordsmanship, so intent on exceeding all the pirates, that you did permanent damage to your scarred body. Huge, ugly scars covered all but your face, so you hid them beneath thick clothing and gloves. You gave up what little hopes you had for romance-after all, who could ever love a creature so disfigured, or hate a troll so composed, or pity a troll so confident? Worst of all, the wounds left you with a rather upsetting case of hemophilia. If one was to penetrate the chainmail you wore, then even a slight cut would be a serious injury. The care you had to take to never injure yourself granted a certain deliberate air to your personality. You found yourself auspiticing again, but it wasn’t the same anymore. All you wanted was revenge.
Over a dozen of the crew had escaped the battle. They took jobs on other ships, as mercenaries, smugglers, whatever fit them. The fleet tracked them down, and one by one, you slew them. They were harrowing battles, and you carry scars from them as well. But one by one, your tormentors fell before your blade. Or so you thought.

Then you got a tip. One troll, one single troll, had survived your revenge. He (or she) was on another pirate ship. You didn't know who, and you didn't know how, but the possibility existed that your vengeance was not complete. And you couldn't have that.

So you suited up. Chain-mail beneath your clothes to hide your wounds and protect you from attack. A collection of rapiers sharp enough to cut through the fabric of reality itself (okay, they were just really, really sharp.) A single-minded determination to find this pirate and make him suffer.

Who cares about the affairs of the legislacerators and other pirates on these crews? If keeping the idiots on the side of the law together meant you could get your revenge sooner, you’d do it. But the kill is yours, and yours alone. You won’t let any of those pirates die-not until you can confirm which is the one who wronged you and make him or her pay.

Your trolltag is scofflawButcher and you P.erish the thought of P.erfidious P.ira...crime.

**Julia** · 03-02-2011, 04:54 PM

seven trolls. hm.

PRE-PIRATE:

>Be the poor girl

Yeah, pretty much. Your name is Atille Estevi, and you are a dark brown blood.

Being a brownblood is tough. You have to work all the time to actually make any money, and even then you nearly starve every night. You're usually working 24/7, because you need all these damn jobs or you're going to die. Money is the only thing important to you because you NEED it. If you don't get it, you're going to starve- or even worse, be culled for some stupid reason.

Anyway, enough complaining about that. Let's go on about your interests. You like making money, looking good, and eating. You have a tendency to be messy, and that's fine with you. There's really no point in cleaning up, all it is a waste of time, and you need work hours.

Luckily, you managed to figure out something very very useful about making money. Your appearance actually matters quite a bit- if you use it in the right ways. No no! Not in those ways, pervert. But golddigging is a very important method in your repetoire of techniques. And you have a way better chance of getting a good job if your employer likes the way you look. You switch jobs a lot, usually whatever pays better like this. You really hate doing this to yourself, but this is what needs to be done if you're going to live through the day, anyway.

You are actually very excited about filling your quadrants, and have a tendency to fall in love with a troll very quickly. You are smart about not getting attached to your employers or anything, though. Those are just jobs. You really want to connect with someone.

Your trolltag is comfortableServant, and You Are At Everyone's Service~

Other things:

PIRATE:

>Be the cabin boy

It's, er, cabin girl, actually.

Your name is Atille Estevi, and you're a dark brown blood.

Being the cabin girl of the space pirates came naturally to you because of your personality, mostly. You are, in a way, very submissive. You carry out orders without a word, and you never argue. You are a born follower, and many would wonder why you aren't following the fleet or empire. Well, to be frank, you do have your own set of morals, and you believe that the pirates are even more JustifieD than the fleet is. They're that bad. However, these morals of yours are changed all the time by your superiors, and you may just have a better opinion just because you are a pirate now, too.

You mostly joined the pirates just to get away from both Alternia and the Fleet. You always enjoyed the thought of flying through space, doing what you pleased! Well, without the doing what you pleased part, because you would only do that if your superior said you could.

As far as interests go, you tend to try and enjoy what others like- trying to have common interests is one of your goals, because it helps you make friends a lot easier. You also like keeping things neat and tidy, and have a tendency to spend a lot of time cleaning up. You most of all enjoy speaking to others, and love having conversations of all kinds. You can be a bit awkward, though. One thing you are absolutely are not interested in is quadrants. It's actually more of a fear of them; you try to keep things on a friend level. But the heart wants what the heart wants, and this makes things so very awkward.

Your trolltag is comformableServant, and You Are At Everyone's Service-

Other things:

**NinjaPope** · 03-02-2011, 05:03 PM

You are Kilesh Shaxis.
You are a dark-red blood and tend to talk a bit quietly...UNLESS ENRAGED!
You have a bit of a history with Gnor...but mostly hang out in the Cafe to avoid him.

Thread: TROLLSLUM 7: No roleplaying. Profiles only. FINAL DESTINATION.

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Re: TROLLSLUM 7: No roleplaying. Profiles only. FINAL DESTINATION.

Re: TROLLSLUM 7: No roleplaying. Profiles only. FINAL DESTINATION.

Re: TROLLSLUM 7: No roleplaying. Profiles only. FINAL DESTINATION.

Re: TROLLSLUM 7: No roleplaying. Profiles only. FINAL DESTINATION.

Re: TROLLSLUM 7: No roleplaying. Profiles only. FINAL DESTINATION.

Re: TROLLSLUM 7: No roleplaying. Profiles only. FINAL DESTINATION.

Re: TROLLSLUM 7: No roleplaying. Profiles only. FINAL DESTINATION.

Re: TROLLSLUM 7: No roleplaying. Profiles only. FINAL DESTINATION.

Re: TROLLSLUM 7: No roleplaying. Profiles only. FINAL DESTINATION.

Re: TROLLSLUM 7: No roleplaying. Profiles only. FINAL DESTINATION.

Re: TROLLSLUM 7: No roleplaying. Profiles only. FINAL DESTINATION.

Re: TROLLSLUM 7: No roleplaying. Profiles only. FINAL DESTINATION.

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