Domniq Arkanj

Domniq normal sprite

Domniq no armor sprite


Be s✝rong and of a good courage, fear no✝, nor be afraid...for ✝he Lord ✝hy Gog, he i✝ is ✝ha✝ do✝h go with ✝hee; he will not fail ✝hee, nor forsake ✝hee.


Priest of Light


19.5 years/9 solar sweeps

Screen Name


Typing Style

Replaces T with ☩ and t with ✝.

Shirt Sign


Strife Specibi


Fetch Modus



to be added

>Be the Knight who says GLUBEdit

Your name is DOMNIQ ARKANJ.

You have quite an assortment of interests, the foremost among them being THE PURSUIT OF KNIGHTHOOD. Like your ancestors before you, you are fascinated by tales of heavily armored nobility risking life and limb for Her Imperious Condescension. You believe it is your destiny to ascend to knighthood and one day fight on the frontlines of some strange alien world for the glory of Alternia. That is, if the entire concept of knights wasn't made completely defunct by advanced technology thousands of sweeps ago. A full suit of armor doesn't really stop a bullet as well as it stops close range weaponry.

... That never really mattered to you, though, because by late adolescence you had smithed an entire set of completely functional and historically accurate armor. BLACKSMITHING is more than a trade to you - it's an art form of the highest regard, second only to NUDE MUSCLEBEAST PORTRAITS. You're quite the skilled metalworker, and you refuse to ever let a project be anything other than the highest quality possible. This amounts to countless hours spent basking in the heat of your forge, sometimes working long after the sun has risen to get that one last detail right. You have a servicable little building on the shore where you practice your craft, and by "servicable" you mean "reinforced with steel and locked up so tight it takes several minutes just to get the front door open". After all, you don't want any filthy land dwellers stealing any of the COMPLETED REGAL ARMAMENTS that hang on the walls of your forge. It irritates you that your FELLOW NOBILITY look down on BLACKSMITHING to be little more than peasant labor, but NOT ONE AMONG THEM have had the shameglobes to criticize a member of the AQUATIC ARISTOCRACY on his choice of hobby.

Another of your interests is FLARP, which allows you to step into the grieves (quite literally) of your most FAMOUS ANCESTOR - the NOBLE and COURAGEOUS CRUSADEMOLISHER known as TROLL DE LION. As tradition dictates, you wield the armaments of any self respecting knight - A BROADSWORD AND SHIELD. To be honest, roleplaying doesn't require you to act any differently than you usually do. FLARP is really just an excuse to sharpen your skills in combat and cull a few lowbloods while you're at it. You've "conquered" more "heretics" through FLARP than anyone else in the Valley, and more than a few EMPTY HIVES are a direct result of your violent exploits. It's nothing personal against your foes, they just catch you in an embarassing moment of SAVAGE AND UNFATHOMABLE BLOODLUST. There is nothing more satisfying than feeling your collapsing and expanding bladder based aquatic vascular system thump in your chest with the force of a thousand beating wardrums. The combination of your armor and your adrenaline fueled resilience makes you a FORCE TO BE RECKONED WITH, whether in or out of a gaming flarpstraction. You're proud to say you've never LOST A GAME OF FLARP, but at the same time you're a little embarrassed to admit you HAVE NO IDEA WHAT ALL THESE STATS MEAN.

After all, it's not like you need statistics to be reassured of your PHYSICAL PROWESS. Just wearing a full suit of armor from sunset to sunrise requires more STRENGTH and ENDURANCE than most Trolls can ever hope to possess. You're certainly not able to perform a STRONGJUMP or ever hope to become a RUFFIANNIHILATOR, but you're more than content with the path Gog has laid out for you. Moving away from your physique, you are a devout practitioner of the aquatic Troll faith known as CARPOLICISM. You faithfully follow the edicts of HIS SACRED SCALINESS - MAY HIS GILLS STAY FOREVER MOIST AND HIS WATERS FOREVER BOUNTIFUL.

As previously mentioned, you are a SEADWELLING PURPLEBLOOD. Your hive is a carefully constructed AQUATIC FORTRESS with none of the conveniences that a modern abode would provide. Even getting a waterproof PDA was an EXTREMELY UNWELCOME TECHNOLOGICAL INTRUSION, but in this age it is as necessary for survival as the water you breathe and the fish you eat. Your Lusus, SIR ARTHUR, spends his days and nights patrolling your little slice of antiquated aquatic Heaven. SHARKDAD has taught you much of BRUTAL SUPERIORITY, which has made you EXTREMELY RUDE towards anyone of a lowblooded and/or inferior nature. Highbloods, however, are a completely different story. CHIVALROUS CONDESCENSION dictates that you must be courteous and respectful to any of a SLIGHTLY LESSER, EQUAL, or (Gog forbid) GREATER BLOOD COLOR that come before you. After all, there's no reason you can't be civil.

Underneath the knight schtick, you are WARY OF THE INTENTIONS OF OTHERS and EXTREMELY SLOW TO TRUST. Once someone has proven themselves to be worthy of an alliance, however, you are LOYAL TO A FAULT and WILLING TO DO ANYTHING FOR THEM. You JUSTIFY the fact that you often find yourself IN THE SERVICE OF THOSE BENEATH YOU by saying it is your KNIGHTLY DUTY to aid those less fortunate than yourself. Other highbloods see your willingness to serve as BEING EASY TO PUSH AROUND, and when they VOCALIZE such a notion you FORCEFULLY REMIND THEM that it is AN HONOR to be held in GOOD FAVOR by someone of your SUPERIOR AQUATIC NATURE.

>Examine Fetch ModusEdit

A Troll of your devout nature has selected the Scripture modus, so that you may spread the word of His Scaliness in all that you do. The Scripture Modus assigns each item you captchalogue a specific holy verse, and in order to access that item you have to recite it's associated passage from memory. So far you haven't reached a size limit on what can be captchalogued, but it seems that larger objects require longer verses to retrieve.

>Examine RelationshipsEdit

Pesterchum default
♣ Of
♣ For

>Examine KillsEdit

Domniq has a nasty habit of getting too in-character during FLARP, and has culled a fair portion of the Valley's populace in the process. All four Trolls were culled in the same FLARP session, with Merece escaping before Domniq could achieve a 5 Troll kill streak and trigger an airstrike on the valley.


Dionry Cabbus. Indigo. Was an immense fan of gaudy apparel and jewelry. Generally only partook in posh pastimes, FLARP being well-named enough to qualify. He was killed by an overly enthusiastic Domniq during one particularly rough campaign. Hive currently hosts Arista.


Paglen Natism. Indigo. Used to provoke the seadwellers by meandering in their territory, catching fish. Also a number cruncher, to the point where it came across more as an addiction than a scholastic aptitude. One of those minmaxers in FLARP, only playing unbalanced characters for the sake of acquiring as much loot as possible. He was ultimately killed by Domniq during a session gone wrong.


Herami Caplas. Brownblood. Was once freakishly strong, and acted as Laonyd's frequent foe. It was a turbulent kismetic relationship, the likes of which damaged both of their hives severely on more than one occasion. She chose to blow off steam by also FLARPing with him, but wound up culled by Domniq.


Laonyd Dyrrub. Blueblood. Fancied himself the villain sort, and spent hours practicing the evil laugh. It's about standards, really. Spent sweeps concocting evil schemes, only to be killed at his only social pastime – FLARP. Virtually every diabolical invention in his hive wasn't half as vile as expected. Especially the muffin button.

>Examine galleryEdit

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