| Profile | |
|---|---|
 | |
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Name: |
Asphit Nerav |
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Caste: |
Purple |
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Typing Quirk: |
Heavily annunciates the start and end of his words to cover his inability to pronounce an a without it degenerating into a long aa sound |
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Symbol: |
not even he knows, it just kinda exists |
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Fetch modus: |
My first Syladex |
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Strife Specibus: |
Knife-kind |
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Lussus |
Vesp Stalker |
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Title: |
Thief of Time |
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Land: |
Land of steam and pulse |
Be The Uppity Loser[]
Your name is Asphit Nerav
You have a variety of INTERESTS including a COMPLETELY AND TOTALLY NORMAL appreciation of OTHER TROLLS POSSESIONS that seem to magically appear within your hive, as well as a keen desire to PROVE YOURSELF WORTHY OF YOUR CASTE, the latter of which has taken on AN ALMOST HOPELESS DESPERATION as you find yourself unable to succeed in EVEN THE MOST TRIVIAL OF TROLL COMPETITIONS. You also have a tendancy to be goaded into STUPID BETS which have resulted in a number of HUMILIATING CIRCUMSTANCES, the most recent of which being the embarressing state of your fetch modus. Unlike other high caste trolls you DO NOT SEEM to possess any PSYCHIC POWERS, unless your power is SOME KIND OF AURA THAT AFFECTS ALL CREATURES within a close proximity of you BOOSTING THEIR STRENGTH AND INTELLECT but that would be silly. Privately you are in a constant state of surprise that you have yet to be CULLED for your own incompotence, something you attribute to the universe LIKING TO KEEP A JOKE GOING FOR AS LONG AS IT CAN.
You have a somewhat PETTY and VINDICTIVE demeanour, relishing in whatever small victories you can as a means of working out the frustration of your numerous failures. These failures have left you somewhat DEFENSIVE whenever the subject is broached by your peers. Despite being of high caste you DO NOT DISTINGUISH BETWEEN BLOOD, due mostly to the countless times you have been thwarted by those of lesser blood, and instead choose to HATE ALL TROLLS EQUALLY.
Your lussus is a Vesp Stalker, a large mantis like creature with tufts of sharp quill like hair stretching down its upper body and a pair of cruely bladed arms. To be honest it kinda creeps you out a little, especially how it always seems to be right behind you watching your every move whenever you turn your back or go to sleep, breathing down your neck like some kind of freakish monster stalker.
Team: 'Beat everyone else and win first'[]
You are the founder, and by proxy leader, of this inelegantly named assortment of strangers. In fact the only reason this team exists was because your normal 'friends' created a session without you, launching you into an extreme desire to one up them. It's a somewhat lofty ideal and your tendency to let just about anyone join is seriously undermining the chances of success.
The first player to join was PB, arguably the most compotent member
Exile (Abandoned Troubadour)[]
your exile was never really much help, he'd always try to get you to pick up windows and carry them around in your sylladex
==Threadborn[]
goooooo!
