>PHIDAL: Become a father figure, even if trolls do not know what fathers are.
>PHIDAL: Become a father figure, even if trolls do not know what fathers are.
This is getting a rewrite soon. Pay not attention to it.
> DO SOMETHING HAPPY
AB Sprite(By Pootporri!)
Your name is ANNIKA X. BARDANZ and you are 7.5 SWEEPS OLD. You are EXTREMELY NOTABLE for your EXTREME HAPPINESS, which has been the annoyance of many before now. You consider yourself EXTREMELY INTERESTING, but whether others do is a matter of choice.
You have a multitude of INTERESTS, some of which include SCARVES, FASHION, CLEAR THINGS, COLORS, SOPOR SLIME PIE (The only thing that puts you at a normal level of HAPPINESS), and OTHER PEOPLE'S MUSTACHES. You love to COOK, KNIT(but only SCARVES), RUN, and EAT SUGARY TREATS.
You are an AVID PRACTITIONER of THREE TYPES OF DANCING, which is something you spend your not completely happy time doing.
You love to DROP IN on your friends unexpectedly, and have a bit of a BAD HABIT of FOLLOWING THEM around to suddenly pop out for a VISIT. This can lead to TROUBLE, so you obey your LUSUS' wishes and carry your weapons with you at all times.
While you are excessively happy outside, as with ALL TROLLS you harbor creepy secrets beyond low level STALKING. You have two STRIFE SPECIBI, scarfKind and chainKind, but you tend to consider them the same anyway. You suspect these may have, as you say to yourself occasionally, BUCKET RELATED USES. You tend not to elaborate on the matter, though it doesn't take much of a leap.
In addition, you also keep secret your HORRIFYING DEPRESSION, which only manifests DURING EARLY MORNING and other times you are at home alone. You hope noone sees you, bar your sympathetic LUSUS. You love her a lot.
This also leads to your worst times. Sometimes, you go BAD. Not just bad, we're talking THE JOKER ON PCP WITH THE RESOURCES OF LEX LUTHOR here. You start acting incredibly violent, your LUSUS knows to leave you alone when you start breaking things.
You leave your house and start hunting people on the street, something you are oh-so good at. And then you catch them, and usually ask a single question. "Are you happy?" If they lie, you know. It's just a skill you have. And if they are not.... well... they are ripped apart by chains.
Your lusus is a GIANT SALAMANDER, which you suppose fits your place in life quite well. Your BLUE BLOOD is close but not that close to the ocean, and your SALAMANDER is close but not that close in the same way. To tell the truth, you don't really care much about the HEMOSPECTRUM bar the SEADWELLER/LANDDWELLER DISTINCTION. You're too busy being happy to care!
Your trolltag is happyHazard and you talk REALLY happily oh my and you really really really love to oooh MAKE WORDS BIG YAY and stuff as well as going : D whenever you FINISH a spectacularific SENTENNNNNCE! : D
Hatecrush told her to drop dead.
She did so from her window.
Last edited by Monster X; 05-15-2011 at 11:54 PM.
>Be the crazy murderbitch.
HONK HONK! You are now OPHELIA MUTTON. You are a whopping 7 SWEEPS OLD. Your blood is LIGHT LAVENDER VIOLET. This puts you in the SUBJUGGALATOR range of the HEMOSPECTRUM. Which is kind of true to you. You value your heritage greatly, so you try and live up to it by PAINTING YOUR FACE and culling THOSE WHO OPPOSE YOU. You are always searching for a HIGHER POWER, but haven't seem to have found one JUST QUITE YET. It's a common belief to not cull those who are higher than you, but you TOTALLY DISREGARD THAT! The notion is just SILLY. A REAL SUBJUGGALATOR does whats deep down in her HEART, and you do just that! If they can't open their eyes to the BLINDING LIGHT OF TRUTH, then what hope is for them ruling an EMPIRE? NONE, that's how much! HEE HEE!
Your appearance is kind of ODD, though. You have LONG, UNRULY HAIR which you use to cover your FACE. It's not because you're ASHAMED OF IT, or ANYTHING, but the makeup tends to SMEAR ALOT for some reason, and you don't like wearing SMEARED MAKEUP. No matter how FASHIONABLE it originally was!
Your personality toward people is LACKING, at BEST. I mean, you're KINDA GOOD AT COMMUNING, but it's hard to COMMUNE when trolls can't just follow WHAT'S UP IN THEIR HEART, YOU KNOW? You live by this PHILOSOPHY so much that if a troll LIES TO YOU, you'd much rather SLIT THEIR THROAT for the GREATER CAUSE than let them continue LYING to people. LYING is mean!
Some of your INTERESTS are collecting glistening, PRETTY PAINTS in GLASS VIALS, building up your collection of PORCELAIN DOLLS, and combing your BEAUTIFUL PORCELAIN DOLLS' long, flowing HAIR. You could do this for SWEEPS! But you'd surely die of HUNGER by then... So you don't.
Your HIVE is located on an ALTERNIAN DOCKHOUSE. It's so nice being so close to the SEA! You could stare at it for HOURS... and just watch the beautiful WAVES, their entrancing illuminous COLORS...
HONK! HONK! Snap out of it, OPHELIA! HEE HEE!
Well, moving onto your lusus. She resembles a WALRUSBEAST. Her two, MIGHTY TALONS are devastating to those in her PATH! But not really. She just kind of MOPES AROUND all day. What a LUSUS, right? She cares for you, though. When you were a WRIGGLER, and unable to get alot of your OWN FOOD, she went and fought the mighty SEABEASTS, to bring you DELICIOUS SUPPLEMENTS. She OBVIOUSLY raised you well, as you're a PERFECTLY NORMAL, 7 SWEEP old SUBJUGGALATOR! Nothing wrong with that!
Your FETCH MODUS is set to COLORSCAN. You can put anything in your modus at any range of COLOR, but to RETRIEVE it, you have to scan that color with your COLORSCAN MODUS SCANNER. This then retrieves the item! Voila!
Your STRIFE SPECIBUS is CHAINKIND and NAILKIND. You prefer NAILKIND, though. It's so much funner scratching an OPPONENT to death than STRANGLING them quickly!
If you were to play SBURB, your title would be MAIDEN OF THOUGHT, your land would be the LAND OF RAINBOWS AND SUNSHINE, and your consorts would be SABRE TOOTH TIGERS.
Your trolltag is deathlySignificance and you're generally uHONKpbeat, but you randomHONKly HONK in words sometimes! HONK HONK!
Last edited by Pootporri; 04-07-2011 at 04:01 PM.
Be the angry bitch>
I SAID BE THE ANGRY BITCH>
Damn bitches, always bitches.
Okay, be another trollsona instead>
Your name is CARINA GAITHER, and you have by far the worse name for a troll. Seriously.
You are one CRAZY MOTHER FUCKER, and not in a good way. You are indigo blood and eight sweeps old, old enough for your batshitness to kick in. Which it does, HARDCORE STYLE! Okay, so maybe you're not that hardcore, but you wish you were. You also wish your dress was longer on windy days, but you don't see that happening now do you? Okay, getting off topic here about you. You do indeed enjoy a good kill, but you normally end up screaming ''I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!!'' before you can reach your prey, and they run like Hell and get away. But you just want to be like all the rest of the trolls, and be nice and have friends, right?
HA! You feel you don't need friends, you'll only end up killing them for paint anyhow. You do feel the need for a matesprit though, and you think you found one! Oh wow, he doesn't feel that back, tough luck...Oh well, when he's about the only one who hasn't been killed by the indigo's he'll have to notice you, right?
Of course this is when you're sober, you are very, very different when you're so fucking high the sky is turning colors. No, not really. You're pretty much bossy and think you're so hot, when you know you ain't...Okay maybe a little. But it comes with age, right? And you know all that BLOOD SPLATTER is a total turn on for any troll.
Let's get on with your interest, and hope this doesn't turn into a wall of text that NO ONE wants to read. You like to read, yes, 'specially when you wrote it. Yeah no, not really, you ain't into that BULLSHIT. You like breaking stuff that's for sure, and loud music, and painting. You have to admit, painting is fun, even if you are an INCREDIBLY SHITTY artist. Plus you have enough blood paint left over from your soper episodes you have to do something with it. You also love to troll other trolls, hell fucking yes. When you're high anyhow, when you're soper you just wanna kill the other troll for the Hell of it. Quite bossy about it too. There's not much more to you, 'sept when you're soper you should really be kept AWAY from others.
Your trollian bullshit is bloodyMayham and ypou really don'y waytch the keyboaerd
OH YPOU GIT UT
or just no FUCKIN' QUIRK at all because you STOP being a lazy jackass and clean off your keyboard
she's fuuuuuuuun on PC let me tell you that.
Last edited by CaritheDuck; 05-10-2011 at 05:29 PM.
I HAVE ALL OF YOUR POTATOES. ALL OF THEM.
Your name is- Wait a minute! You don’t look like that anymore!
Let’s try this again.
That's better! Your name is… is… um…
You don’t remember what your name is, actually. But that’s not terribly important! Everyone just calls you Grin, because YOU’RE ALWAYS SMILING. Always. You can’t stop. Your mouth just hasn’t been able to frown since your ACCIDENT. Although honestly it wasn’t really an accident.
You used to be rather outspoken about your desire to be FRIENDS WITH EVERYONE and DISTASTE FOR THE HEMOSPECTRUM. This is undoubtedly why you were BRUTALLY CULLED. One night a couple of highbloods showed up at your hive, burned it to the ground, killed your lusus, and tortured you to death. Or at least, ALMOST TO DEATH. Luckily for you, Miss Radina stopped by with a sword you had ordered before you finished bleeding out. She took you back to her hivelab, stitched you up, and replaced your missing limbs and eyes. Since you didn’t have anywhere to go, she took you on as a LAB ASSISTANT.
Sadly, you LOST MUCH OF YOUR MEMORY, so you don’t remember much about who you were. You don’t worry about it too much, though. You can’t really miss friends you don’t remember having, and if you went back to your old life you’d probably just GET CULLED AGAIN. You do remember that you used to be an avid FLARPer, and even though you don’t play anymore you still LOVE A GOOD FIGHT.
You are almost always cheerful and polite, especially to highbloods since you’ve had RESPECT FOR THE BLOOD CASTES tortured into you. You enjoy HELPING PEOPLE, especially Miss Radina to whom you feel you owe a GREAT DEBT.
Your trolltag is grinningAbomination and you \/Leave/\your\/words/\between\/your/\teeth!\/
Not entirely satisfied with this, but I've put it off long enough.
>Be the smug bastard.
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Your name is CAPION PLACEN. And you are the most smug guy in the world.
So smug, in fact, that in the future, you prototype your sprite with a PICTURE OF YOURSELF, as well as your large turtle lusus. But enough about the future, let's get to the present. You are a purple blooded seadweller, and damn, do you show it. You prance around in a purple suit, almost solely to show off your blood. You also think you look fairly hot in it. And speaking of that, you find yourself attractive. Really attractive. If you could make out with yourself, you totally would. Which is why you've been banned from lots and lots of memos. The guys who did it were probably just lowblood landwelling assholes. And you despise lowbloods. You want them all to die, and possibly burn in a fire. Then the world would be filled with water dwellers. In fact, you've funded a doomsday device to drown all landwellers, but it didn't go too well. And man, do you have lots of money to fund things with. You are practically swimming in gold coins, all because you inherited your ancestor's loot. You keep this all in the bottom of your large, castle-like hive.
Your trolltag is smugSeadweller and you Have a hard time /w/ith the letter /W/
Be the well-to-do actor.
Your name is Dulydd Omvisi, and while you were already well-off simply by virtue of your magnificently noble blood, you're also one of the few members of the cinematic scene who does in-depth research into the roles you portray onscreen, giving you a flair of authenticity that makes you something of a sought-after persona. Method-acting has given what you feel is a great deal of insight into the parts you've played, and has given you something of a jack-of-all-trades proficiency with fairly random things. But for all of your role research and perigrees spent getting the part perfect... you're also typecast as the villainous sort. But dedicated as you are to your art, you continue with the method-acting shtick, which leads you to acting like something of an asshole when you're prepping for another movie.
But the thing is... you're actually a pretty nice guy, and when there's nothing on your plate, you're quite personable. Oh, if only you could get a few lighthearted parts once in a while. Not that you hate your work, heavens no! After all, it's just a job, and you have no problem whatsoever with separating work from pleasure. So long as you're not hung over, at any rate, in which case pleasure would be interfering with work. Not that that's ever happened, oh no. You clearly do not have a drinking problem. At all. You're just a very social person, and drinking is a social activity. Unfortunately, it's hard to stay in-character when you're drunk off your ass (unless the character is also an alcoholic, in which case it's totally kosher). But it's not like you've ever been booted from the set just because you broke character for a moment. Sometimes, they just think it's improvisation! Other times, it's endearing! You, however, are just pretty sure that they don't know what good acting is.
Sometimes, often while under the influence of intoxicating substances, you wish you could do something more important. You'd like to make a difference someday - there's hardly anything groundbreaking about modern Alternian cinema, and you're not even a writer anyway. Certainly, you have influence, but only with the less violent members of the Empire (okay, so the stage techs are every bit as murderous as threshecutioners, with only half the patience). With your work keeping you away from any real danger not related to assassination, you sometimes long for the thrill of combat and adventure. Perhaps those masked vigilantes in certain films could provide inspiration for a persona that you could cultivate? Someday, someday. For now, though, you'll have to content yourself with licquor and your research.
In the interest of someday being able to be a proper costumed hero, you've taken up training with a master laughssassin, though you find that you prefer wordplay over their humorous anecdotes. Granted, you keep your recent introduction to the obscure cult to the mirthful messiahs under wraps; goodness knows the sort of flak you'd catch for being part of such a strange religion! Not that many have the right to question a highblood's choice in beliefs, a fact that you take advantage of. After all, the nobility is clearly prone to eccentricity! ...Which would explain your fondness for indoor gardening. Focused on fungi. Especially the luminescent kind. No, you don't eat them, because the ones you keep on hand are particularly poisonous, and a full cap would be enough to spike the punch of a thirty-troll shindig and leave not one standing. Not that you've ever thought about doing that. That would be unconscionable, and most definitely not justified. And besides, when you are forced to kill people, you just use oarkind. It hearkens back to the nights when you would go sailing on Alternia in search of Larvalon, a fabled island whose related myths you're a little hazy on. Something about an ancient Alternian emperor being buried upside-down on his hoofbeast, awaiting the end times, when he would be awakened to do battle with... yeah, you can't remember.
Seeing as this little tangent was brought on by mentioning oars, you might as well bring up your fetch modus, too. It's nothing fancy: the Butler Modus simply requires that someone else access your sylladex for you, and the produced item always appears on a silver platter. Even silver platters. It even has the option to automatically dress the volunteer in coattails, but you typically leave that off, as it's a little surprising for most people.
Your trolltag is iniquitousImprovisation, and you tend TO let YOUR mind WANDER when TALKING to OTHERS.
Last edited by Panzerbear; 03-23-2011 at 06:17 PM.
>Be the wiggler.
>Be the wiggler.
wha, oh, uh, YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
>Be the goddamn wiggler.
ok ok sarry!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You are now PETOTO POTATO. You have MAGENTA BLOOD. You are 3 SWEEPS OLD. You are oftentimes very COLD, which is why you wear about FIVE LAYERS of CLOTHES at all times, always your OVERCOAT being on top. Your OVERCOAT is much too big for you, but you're sure you'll GROW INTO IT someday. You really have no idea why you're FREEZING COLD all the time, so you just put up with it. Speaking of clothes being big, you're very SHORT for your age. Not that you're supposed to be tall at 3 SWEEPS OLD, but you are the shortest kid on the PLAYGROUND. You are completely OK with this, because if someone teases you, you might tell your LUSUS, who will promptly START SOME SHIT with your GRUBBERY TEACHER.
When you get older, you aspire to be a COLONEL. Not any old COLONEL, no. You're gonna be the best MILITARY COLONEL, like NO ONE EVER WAS. When you see trolls FIGHT, you get extremely EXCITED and root for one on the SIDELINES. But only the WINNING ONE. If your troll starts to LOSE, you'll quickly switch ROOTING SIDES. No use being a LOSER!
And your LUSUS is gonna help you get there! Your LUSUS is a GIANT FLOATING ANGLERSEABEAST. She's really NICE, even though she doesn't look like it. She's very CARING and feeds you ALOT. Like, ALOT ALOT! You think she brings you so much food because she's so BIG, and usually eats that much food NORMALLY.
Your hive is at the VERY BOTTOM of the ALTERNIAN SEA, where the only light is the BEAUTIFUL CORAL REEFS and that of your LUSUS' SHINY BULB THING.
Some of your HOBBIES are watching TROLL BOXING MATCHES on the GRUB-O-VISION, devouring tons of FOOD, and SWIMMING WITH YOUR LUSUS. You also like to GO ON LAND sometimes and MEET OTHER WIGGLERS. You're nice to WIGGLERS, but ADULT TROLLS scare the LIVING BAGRUBBUS out of you! If you see one, you're likely to RUN.
Your STRIFE SPECIBUS is ROCKKIND. When teaching you about it, your LUSUS forgot to mention that STRIFE SPECIBUSES were PERMANENT, and you picked the closest thing to you, which happened to be a ROCK. It'd be so cool to have BOXINGGLOVEKIND, but you only have ROCKKIND for now. That said, your MODUS tends to be filled with ROCKS.
Speaking of your MODUS, it is set to RAGDOLL. In order to retrieve the item, you must beat the LIVING FUCK out of a RAGDOLL containing your item. You're not that strong, so sometimes this is HARD!
If you were to play SGRUB, your title would be the CHEF OF RAGE. Your land would be the LAND OF ILLUMINATION AND GLASS, and your CONSORTS would be FIREFLIES.
Your trolltag is jeopardousGormando, and you use alot of marks to acsentyouate stuff!!!!! and you are not that grate of a speller!!!!!
Last edited by Pootporri; 04-24-2011 at 02:07 PM.
Be the maimed seer.
Your name is Qsenyr Opfret, and you learned the hard way that the truth is a dangerous thing, no matter how much foresight or insight a troll might think they possess. For sweeps, you focused your psychic attention on others, giving them glimpses into temporal inevitability that those without such powers would never have on their own. In the fleet, you helped tacticians determine what strategy would provide them with the most favorable outcome. Of course, you were hardly the only lowblood with such capabilities, and so you were reasonably expendable. As far as you were concerned, though, you had your place, you were secure, and most importantly, you were a contributing member of Alternian society.
Right up until you told a highblood something he didn't want to hear. It was supposed to have been a simple reading on romance, but when you informed him that his continued advances on the subject of his caliginous affections would lead him to rejection and reassignment, he refused to believe your foresight. You hadn't expected his violent reaction, as your abilities had long been tuned to more far-reaching, longer-term actions, and most certainly none of them actually involving you. After leaving you broken and bleeding, he carved out your eyes with his saber as a cruel joke. No, you don't hold his actions against highbloods in general - sure, his victory was largely assured by the benefits of psychic resistance, but it wasn't as if he'd acted on some mandate against lowbloods. And at least he'd allowed you to live, once he had calmed down.
Unfortunately, your body rejected every attempt at supplying it with prosthetic optics. Apparently, on some biological level, psychics prefer to go blind rather than having artificial sight. Or so you tell yourself, though you don't really pay it any mind. However, learning to move around proved difficult, and you wound up shifting the focus of your abilities to make it a touch easier. More accurately, most of your precognitive capabilities are, at least when you're moving around, focused on seeing at most a few seconds into the future, so you can determine where to place your feet, your hands, when to step out of the way, when to duck, so on and so forth. In retrospect, this also would've been a handy trick to know when fighting someone you couldn't just pick up with your mind. Granted, relying upon foresight to be your normal sight has impacted your temporal perception just a tad; you're just going through predetermined motions that assure an optimal outcome, and often it feels like you're something of a slave to temporal inevitability. However, it has managed to keep you safe since your little incident, so you'd rather not complain. You go so far as to regularly work on making certain you're flexible and dextrous enough to easily perform the movements that your premonitions recommend, though you wouldn't go so far as to call it dancing. That implies choreography.
When you actually have some free time, you try to engage in something relatively spontaneous to break the tedium of knowing what's going to happen. This is typically just spending time with those few close friends you have in the fleet and going along with whatever they want to do. You tend to surround yourself with those who have silly tendencies, as their antics tend to be far more exciting than those of the serious-business trolls. You also tend to stick to other lowbloods, just out of some notion of lowblood solidarity. More comfortable with your fellow peasants, as it were. In spite of enjoying watching their behavior and spending time around them, you tend to be the passive one in the group rather than expressing excessive enthusiasm. Seers are also predisposed to at least a mildly gloomy demeanor, so it would seem!
One thing that you can't help but take a perverse pleasure in is ruining the end of movies when seeing them with your friends, or saying the lines with the characters. You do this mostly to tease a certain burly mechanic, who can't decide if he finds it funny or frustrating. This also happens in normal conversations, and you tend to have a bit of a smirk as you finish someone else's sentence. Which makes you come off as something of a smug jackass, but it's still fun. It's part of a general prankster-ish nature, which can be anything from just tripping someone with staffkind when they least expect it to leaving their filial pail in a position where it will fall on their head. Yeah, you have no shame. We're all consenting adults here, and as far as you're concerned, you should be able to talk about things like that openly. Emphasis on talk.
Though you've been tempted to use a fetch modus that would properly horrify any and all observers (such as one that would require you to pull items out of your empty sockets), you decided it was in your best interests to go with something more utilitarian. The Card Trick modus simply requires you to slip the item out of somewhere relatively unexpected, typically behind someone's ear or pulling it out of your sleeve. Sometimes you go for more... surprising places, some of which entertain your lusus to no end. Luckily, your guardian was one that was small enough to be able to accompany you when you joined the fleet. She's something of a legless, carapaced hydra, ten feet long but quite capable of making herself not take up very much room. Though she still has the same voracious appetite that had made her difficult to talk care of in your youth. Each head seems equally capable of deciding how hungry it is on its own.
Your trolltag is constrainedAnticipation, and there .s someth.ng consp.cuously m.ss.ng from some of your wr.t.ng.
Last edited by Panzerbear; 03-23-2011 at 06:16 PM.
>Be the Socratic gadfly
Your name is PYTHIA SOCRAT. You are EIGHT SWEEPS OLD and live with your lusus in the middle of an oasis, surrounded by harsh and unforgiving desert. You are one of the few trolls in your society to have JADE GREEN BLOOD, and as such were fortunate enough to be raised by a VIRGIN MOTHER GRUB. Your blood color also means you are one of the few trolls who is NOT BOTHERED BY THE BLISTERING ALTERNIAN SUN. You are not terribly partial either way to light or darkness, so you have adopted a DIURNAL SLEEP SCHEDULE; you get enough darkness in night in your dreams on the MOON OF THE PLANET DERSE after all.
You have a passion for KNOWLEDGE AND BOOKS, and keep a collection of books OUTLAWED BY THE ALTERNIAN STATE as well as many without such prohibitions. You also quite enjoy composing and listening to CLASSICAL MUSIC and the sounds of old Alternian composers often fills your tower as you go about your day. You tend to QUESTION EVERYTHING, NO MATTER HOW SACRED, a practice that has led you to abandon many beliefs, such as that of the primacy of the hemospectrum, held by your brethren. This is a practice inspired by your legendary ancestor, HIPPARCHIA, a philosopher who was EXECUTED FOR QUESTIONING THE ALTERNIAN STATE. You happen to hold the only remaining copy of THE APOLOGY OF HIPPARCHIA, a brilliant speech your ancestor gave on her behalf--all the more brilliant considering Alterian law did not and does not ALLOW FOR DEFENSE OF THE ACCUSED.
Related to your love of knowledge and books is your PASSION FOR TROLL LANGUAGE AND GRAMMAR. In your spare time you run an ONLINE GRAMMAR CLASS and tutor fellow trolls in the finer points of language. You very much love words and believe they are THE GATEWAY TO TRUTH. In fact, anyone who would use words to lie and deceive rather than find the truth WOULD ANGER YOU GREATLY.
Related to your inquisitive nature, you are always QUESTIONING OTHERS, often about their reasons for acting in one way or another, or about their beliefs. Finding SELF-KNOWLEDGE is very important to you. Rather than be the direct decision maker yourself, you tend to MAKE OTHERS THINK MORE ON THEIR DECISIONS. You try to be a SOCRATIC GADFLY. Your cautious and careful nature makes you a natural AUSPISTICE and a very good MOIRAIL. However, these same personality tendencies sabotage your attempts at the more TORRID ROMANCES. You have never held anything beyond a ONE-SIDED CRUSH in those departments. Were you not FOREWARNED ABOUT SGRUB by the Horrorterrors, you would be deathly afraid of the imperial drone. In fact, you still are QUITE AFRAID OF DRONES.
You first began FLARPing at the behest of the Horrorterrors to PREPARE YOU FOR THE SGRUB SESSION. You were a support/healer class, the ANCRESS, and were old FLARPing buddies with your MOIRAIL. You achieved MOST OF THE LEVELS and acquired a legendary weapon, the ORDO MUNDI, prior to quitting at some point after your moirail's ACCIDENT.
Your strife specibus is STAFFKIND, and as mentioned you have a legendary weapon, the ORDO MUNDI which happened to belong to your ancestor. Your modus is a simple ARRAY MODUS that allows you to choose any item at any time; your flair is for the serviceable and practical.
Your trolltag is alethiologyAncress and you speak with good grammar and without quirks, as a grammar teacher should.
Upon entering Sburb, your title shall be the ORACLE OF MIND in the LAND OF TRUTH AND FLOW.
Last edited by Naevius; 03-24-2011 at 11:25 PM.
"Be a sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them in order that the reader may see what they are made of." -Kurt Vonnegut
"I'm the evil mastermind behind the scenes. I'm the wicked puppeteer who pulls the strings and makes you dance. I'm your writer." -Grant Morrison.
> Be the drifter.
Your name is Kolone Astlega.
You are 7 sweeps old as of next week. You had a hive once. You also had a moirail. You lost both when he was killed, and you were thrown off a cliff into the ocean during a game of FLARP. You have since washed up on shore and become something of a wanderer, looking for a way back and using your psychic power of INVISIBILITY (at the cost of your hearing) to hide from ALTERNIAN WILDLIFE during the day, and LAW ENFORCEMENT at night. You miss your old life, but not all of it. Take your lusus, for one. Fucker practically tried brainwashing you. Taught you how to survive, to kill. Sure, everything she taught you was to help you make it in Troll society, but your dead friend convinced you of how ridiculous the whole system was. Oh yeah, your lusus tried to kill him too, but that's not the point. In fact, you forgot why this spiel was even necessary.
ANYWAY, your interests, if they're still relevant, revolve mostly around COMPETETION. You loved FLARP before you lost your teammate, you definitely enjoy VIDEO GAMES, and your favorite hobby is... well, reading fantasy novels but that's really not something you like to tell everyone. You also tend to abuse your powers just a little *cough*. You used to enjoy swimming. Not so much after the whole cliff thing. In fact, you're terrified to go near any body of water that doesn't fit in a glass. You have a bit of a short temper, but you don't let that get in your way. Most of the time. You're pretty antisocial, but the few friends you do have, you're fiercely loyal to. Your chumhandle is urbanePseudoninja and you Don't say much. Usually.
Later, you will find yourself on the Land of Song and Graves. You will be known as the Maid of Sea, and you will dream on the golden moon of Prospit.
> Be the perfectionist guy.
Your name is Torkin Frezden. You are 7.85 sweeps old. You live in a giant dead old tree near the city. Your blood is green and you are proud of it.
You find yourself fascinated by politics and political activism and find the caste system of your world to be flawed and would love to see it abolished. But the world is slow to change, so you usualy keep it to yourself and to your most trustful friends. Your second intrest is in webcomics while you don't create any, you love to spend hours reading them, your favorite being "The adventures of Troll Walkins" the tale of mild mannered CEO of GreenSun CO, Walkins Greensun, who CEO's by day, and fights crime with his team of scouts by night, his most fearsome enemy being Capt. Roabesaur (half robot, half troll Abe Lincon, all dinosaur). You love the series so much so that you wear the clothing worn by Greensun.
You are a kind hearted young man who generaly wants to do good, but this is made difficuled by the fact that you are a perfectionist, and thus short tempered. But when the chips come down you generaly can get most anything done. Your Lunus is a giant platypus who acts as a silent caretaker, your fetch modus is the Tree Modus as a way of showing your old bent tree that you care for it (even if trees don't really 'feel') and your Strife Specibus is Umbrellakind (you wanted Swordkind, but you could never find one, so you went with the next best thing). Your chumhandle is scoutingEnthusiast and you like To cap Every other Word.
When you enter the medium, you will be known as the seer of hope and your land will be known as the Land of Hills and Trees.
(Edit: spelled "umbrella" wrong)
Last edited by zachman94; 03-24-2011 at 07:44 PM.
Last edited by Thunder Reign; 03-24-2011 at 09:02 AM. Reason: worded it wrong
gif by scientificblues!!! | FANGAN TROLLPA: READ THIS DUMB FANVENTURE PLEASE
The first paragraph is really all I object to, the rest is fine. As for the jade blood thing... we've had this argument in the troll culture/biology thread and what t boils down to is that jade blood does not automatically equal virgin mother grub lusus.
...Look. One character. I was criticizing ONE CHARACTER. You people are taking everything out of proportion here. And I only criticized her because I liked her.
(Well, figured I might as well dump my trolls here. I'll do them each in separate posts and spoiler my images because they are large... =/)
Your name is KEYRIL ENNDUR.
For a troll, you are bizarrely FRIENDLY AND SOCIABLE, but you also tend to get irritated when dealing with people for too long and you're the meanest of your group of friends so you figure it evens out. You are known for being OPTIMISTIC TO AN IRRITATING EXTENT, and also for your fondness for getting around on your WHEELED SHOES everywhere you go, even indoors.
You love games, especially of the ROLE-PLAYING VARIETY, and you have an odd habit of playing MALE CHARACTERS, perhaps due to your LOVE OF ANDROGYNY. You make an effort to be CHIVALROUS AND GENTLEMANLY whenever you remember to, which is something of a human concept and thus completely nonsensical. You also have RATHER SEVERE INTIMACY ISSUES which results in an ability to actually manage filling any quadrants, but even still, you are confident that you'll figure something out to keep yourself from getting culled.
Your blood is pretty much as low as you can get on the hemospectrum, and you don't have anything resembling psychic abilities either, but you are okay with that. Someone has to be the BADASS NORMAL one around here, after all.
Your trolltag is quixoticKinetics and your speech is laid back and without most capitalization, but. occasionally uses punctuation in strange places. and with a healthy amount of emoticons and sound effects =D
And the shorthand form, for easy reference:
Name: Keyril Enndur (quixoticKinetics)
Title: Knight of Heart
Land: Land of Screens and Wires
Blood Color: dark red blood (no powers)
Strife Specibus: field hockey stick
Lusus: large, monstrous dog
Your name is JENESS TARTUS.
You look irritated most of the time, but that is only because you have an EXTREMELY ANGRY NEUTRAL EXPRESSION. In reality, you are pretty harmless and perhaps A BIT MOTHERING AND OVERPROTECTIVE, a fact which your friends use to tease you, oftentimes by putting themselves in dangerous situations and watching you FREAK THE FUCK OUT.
Your interests are fairly normal, but you have some extremely QUIRKY TENDENCIES that makes you seem very bizarre. Your metaphors tend to be COMPLETELY NONSENSICAL, you are prone to MAKING UP WORDS if you can't think of the right one, you claim an ability to SPEAK WITH PLANTS that no one can actually verify, and you constantly reference a GOD OF RECUPERACOONS as being responsible for everything bad that happens to you. You also CLEAN OBSESSIVELY, but that really isn't so bad in comparison to everything else.
You happen to be an AQUATIC TROLL, but you live on land due to your educational facility's requirement that all students reside in their DORMITORY-STYLE COMPLEXES. You would care more, but it lets you keep an eye on your dumbass friends and there is a large body of water next door to accommodate your GIANT TURTLE LUSUS, so you guess it's good enough.
Your trolltag is dimensionTurtle and u have a habit of shortening words if u can and injecting strange words into derp text at random intervals
Name: Jeness Tartus (dimensionTurtle)
Title: Mother of Space
Land: Land of Seaweed and Frogs
Blood Color: light purple (commune with plants?)
Strife Specibus: mops/brooms/Swiffers
Lusus: giant turtle
Your name is KINDER ALICEN.
More than anything, you are known for being COMPLETELY USELESS AND LACKING IN COMMON SENSE. Everything you buy or make ends up being useless as well, and anything useful you somehow come into possession of inevitably goes unused. You like wearing INCREDIBLY INSENSIBLE SHOES and you constantly LOSE YOUR GLASSES and are stuck half-blind until you can find them.
Your interests revolve mostly around TELEVISION SHOWS MEANT FOR YOUNGER TROLLS, which somehow suits you as you are known for being VERY CHILDISH. You have SPONTANEOUS LAUGHING FITS sometimes, which can laugh upwards of half an hour and tend to freak people out, and you are extremely ticklish. Some of your friends make a hobby out of poking your just because you make FUNNY SOUNDS.
As far as trolls go, however, you sure are weird! Your horns are tiny and you don't even have any fangs. You are TERRIFIED OF CONFLICT and will leave a room if there's so much as a debate going on. Your lusus is similarly bizarre and useless, a FISH-LIKE GAZELLE THING that barely comes up to your knee. It should be staying in the INFLATABLE POOL FILLED WITH WATER you set up for it, but it still flops out and leaves puddles everywhere.
Your trolltag is humorConvulsions and youtendtotalkreallyreallyfastwhenyou'reexcitedwhic hisoften but you talk pretty normally if someone can convince you to slow down.
Name: Kinder Alicen (humorConvulsions)
Title: Maid of Light
Land: Land of Heights and Ice
Blood Color: periwinkle (super strength)
Strife Specibus: ribbon
Lusus: deer-gazelle-fish thing
Be the paranoid android.
You're not an android, but you'll take what you can get! Hey, it might make you important enough to not die, after all! Oh, right! Your name! It's important to introduce yourself, because then you're not just one of the faceless masses marching off to the slaughter! Prosne Sedmod is your name, and while you think it's a little plain, you'll take what you can- oh, wait, you already used that line. Developing a catch phrase is a great way of making yourself annoying enough for people to want to kill you. And that, that's not a good idea, no sir! Alright, how about... It's a little plain, but you'll make do with whatever comes your way! Yessir, that sounds like the proper thing for a redblood to say! Not an inch out of place, doing precisely what's expected of them! Take out the trash and don't ask questions! Jump whenever the command is given! But never, ever, volunteer for the away team, no sir! Only go if specifically ordered to!
After all, everyone knows that those with low rank who accompany officers on excursions are always the ones who die. The obligatory sacrificial woolbeast, as it were, and you have no intention of being the one to bite it. You've done a lot of research in how to survive as an inconsequential lowblood in the Alternian military, and thus far, you've been lucky! Or is it luck? Never claim it's not luck, because then the bad luck starts flooding in! Like any other properly timorous lowblood who lives each day as if trying to make sure it's not his last, you're not exactly high on the rungs of the military, in spite of long service. This is because you never, ever take unnecessary risks, and proving your valor is a laughable concept. No, you look out for number one! ...Not the first mate. Just you. Sacrifices have been made, of course. But a quickly-crafted lie can explain away any reason for retreat. Keeping track of the lies can be a hassle, but you do your best.
In fact, you've gotten so good at making up random, yet plausible shit that you've become a small-time author, and make periodic contributions to various sourcebooks for RPGs and the like. It's not that hard to come up with a monster that would make you wet yourself when you come across at least two a week. The supplementary income is refreshing, but you have to keep it reasonably hidden from your peers, lest another one of your fellow lowbloods shank you for your caegars. This is why you've set up an alias that functions as a pen name and an alternate bank account. The picture of the author has a dashing mustache and isn't wearing your usual glasses, which keeps you at least partly anonymous! Needless to say, the cash flow is directed into finding various methods of keeping yourself from biting the dust. Medical training for untold amounts of potential hazards was your first major expense, the supplies for actually performing the procedures related to both first aid and extended care your second. But you're also careful not to claim to be a medic, because medics get shot first when shit hits the fan.
Have you rambled enough about trying not to get killed, or is the point not yet made clearly? Let it be said that you're a superstitious fellow. Good luck charms, wards against harm, daily rituals to keep evil at bay, always making certain your face is fully visible, these and more pepper your life with little inane things that honestly make you seem a touch on the crazy side. Which you're okay with, because having flavor keeps you slightly removed from the faceless masses. Granted, a lot of “lucky” items are pried from the corpses of your foes, and you really should wonder why they were so lucky if the bearer died. But thinking things through too far is just as likely to get you killed, as is overconfidence and remarking about that matesprit back home and oh crap you're back on the bit about not wanting to die.
Like all decent security personnel in the fleet, you have a reasonable amount of weapons training. Personally, you stick to pistols and grenades, as they're the weapons you prefer when beating a hasty retreat. One-handed ranged weapons are a wonderful thing. You will never, under any circumstances, leave them out of your reach. And carrying ample spares is a requirement. As for your sylladex, it's organized via the Frantic Search Modus. It's terrible, really. The only thing you can't pull out is the one you're after, which means you're forced to make do with alternative solutions. Someday, you'll get an array modus, if you can afford it. Not a wallet modus, that's just bad trojo.
Your trolltag is rubicundCamouflage, and you trust that... you'11... pu11 through... or at 1east... hope... you wi11!
===>Be the hive
You are now the hive, congratulations!
Your name is JAQUES CESTDA. You are a HIGH BLOOD TROLL who likes to walk around on the land and be friendly. THIS IS ODD BUT NO ONE CARES. You can swim very well, dwelling almost exclusively underwater until you were around six sweeps old, but you like walking around and discovering things. Your hobbies include TRAVELING, running from things that want to EAT YOU, eating your LUSUS, collecting things, listening to music on your earbuds, and OTHER UNINTERESTING THINGS. You also had an interest in collecting your own RATHER SHARPER THAN USUAL TEETH when you were younger, but you have since stopped because of an incident involving a swallowed tooth and three squids. You hold the belief that those who are destined to be culled should be taken care of rather than killed, matching your relatively relaxed mind. If you were only FEMALE and SEVERAL HUES HIGHER you could have made that dream a reality. You love a good fight though, and have actually killed opponents before. But that's fine, in the heat of battle sometimes things happen (although you do admit you wish you didn't kill them). Oh yeah, you are an ENTHUSIASTIC PRACTITIONER OF SACRED ALTERNIAN BREAK DANCING. You would think your CONSTANT SMOKING would have ruined this, but it has not. In fact, you are so good at BREAK DANCING you incorporate it when you fight with your HOOK SWORDS. Your fetch modus is SMOKEKIND, in which you must blow a plume of smoke and reach in to grab or put in what you want.
Wait, why do you smoke so much?
Oh no reason really.
Come on, tell us.
Despite this, you still managed to find some USE in this, occasionally VOMITING UP A MESS OF CAECI AT YOUR ENEMIES. Even though you are used as a hive, you and your lusus have a very good relationship, so good you can even understand her in your dreams you think!
Your horns are flat and press against your head, so with the way your hair grows you just really don't give a shit about them. If someone wanted too, all they'd have to do is push the hair on the side of your head away and reveal a slim flat horn that extended to the back of your neck, where it again becomes visible. You are not too sure why your horns grew like this, except possibly to reduce drag when you swim...
nah, it couldn't be that.
Your trolltag is infestedHost and you speak ...using we and without using capitals, as well as pausing before each sentence to take a quick breath from your cigarette
If you played Sgrub, you would be the whatever it is when your creator thinks it up.