Aereos Virali




CERULEAN (#??????, RGB ???, ???, ???)

Typing Quirk

All caps except when using the four basic math symbols, which are used in place of similar letters or words (+ replacing T, or the words "plus" and "addition"). Favorite number, zero, used instead of o's.


An eagle with a bowstring attached to both wings and being pulled back.


File Cabinet

Strife Specibus


SGRUB Session


Seer of Doom


Land of Domes and Waterfalls (LoDaW)

Dream Self



Pre entry: Lusus + Ice Crystal



Team Position




A large falcon, easily big enough to carry off and eat young trolls, but it doesn't unless explicitly told to do so.











Minion #1


Minion #2


Enter NameEdit

Your name is AEREOS VIRALI.

At the age of 9 Alternian Sweeps, you are a prodigy ARCHERADICATOR. In troll terms, being a prodigy is just about the same as in human terms, except by greater leaps and bounds. It means you are one of the youngest Archeradicators there is, and yet you are also among the best, if not THE best. You're pretty sure it's the latter, but in the name of accuracy (which is something you strive for), you'd rather not go around saying so...

Archery is not your cup of tea, however. You enjoy using the bow just fine and dandy, but your aim is just TOO GOOD. Your shots are always perfect. There is no trick shot you cannot make, and if you cannot make it the first time you will not take long to figure it out. The simplicity of it bores you dreadfully. You find a much greater challenge in COMPUTER CODEWRITING, which some people would call "hacking", but you believe this to be a foul and obscene term for something you consider a complex and beautiful science.

You prefer to be known as a "CodeRunner".

You originally never had a Lusus growing up, but were fortunate enough to emerge in an area where the beasts are tame and sparse, and thus managed on your own just fine. When you became an Archeradicator, though, you shot down a massive, Falcon-like beast that had tried to kill you. In exchange for sparing it's life, you made the beast swear loyalty to you, and it has been at your side ever since, carefully perched on a windowsill or outcrop, watching over you and keeping an eye on threats to your personage.

Aside from your Lusus, however, you do not have any FRIENDS. You do not consider friends to be any sort of thing that a troll needs to have. However, you do put a heavy importance on the relationship between a MASTERMIND and it's MINIONS. You believe this relationship to be a sadly ignored fifth factor of troll social conduct, and believe no relationship to be more important. There are leaders, and there are followers. Without followers, leaders wouldn't get anything done. Without leaders, followers wouldn't know what to do. This kind of relationship is what really runs things in the social heirarchy, and you consider yourself one of the gifted few who even know that.

By the way... your trolltag is "glitchedArchangelist", and Y0UR W0RDS ARE ENCRYP+ED F0R SECUR/+Y, AND PRESEN+ED 0NLY +0 +HE LEAS+ /D/0+/C 0F Y0UR +R0LL BRE+HEREN.

What will you do?

Examine RoomEdit

Your room is kept very neat and tidy, as you are something of a PERSNICKITY TYPE OF TROLL, and you like to have everything organized. Everything.

One side of your room is an entire wall with built-in computing technology, all connected to a single monitor at the opposite end of your room from the entry door. This is your HEADQUARTERS. From here, you manage an EMPIRE of data collected from various systems around Alternia. You have all the most important data sitting in your vast memory banks, and if there is any piece of vital information out there that you have not yet obtained, it will not take long for you to get it. It's all a matter of time...

So... yeah. Mostly just your COMPUTER STUFF, some ARCHERY STUFF... and some STUFF FOR YOUR LUSUS... and your RECUPERACOON and FANCY DESK.

But, wait...

... what's that?

That pile there... in the corner?


All trolls have a dirty secret. A guilty pleasure. Even now it sickens you to think of what would happen to your reputation if anyone found out you kept such a repulsive hobby.

But you cannot help yourself. You cannot see how anyone can deny the vast, wondrous pleasure that ensues with the pursuit of this activity.
You pick up the controversial device. It's cold, steely embrace... The soft, alluring twang of those cords...


JUST LISTEN to that sound! Hear those notes!? Feel that beat!? The crowd is going wild! You're on top of the world and no-one's gonna bring you down!

Your name is Aereos Virali...


Grittar Solo!!!

Oh man... you just shredded those cords something absofuckin'lutely boldnasty. You are a ROCK GOD.

... and no-one must ever know!!!

Allocate your Strife SpecibusEdit

You have already allocated your Strife Specibus with the BOWKIND abstrata. You also have the TWINDAGGERKIND abstrata as a backup just in case.

... and your "GRITTARKIND"... but let's not get into that.

Do something awesomeEdit

You feel as though you've had enough of taking commands.

You are AEREOS VIRALI, gog-damit, and you will be the one giving the orders!

Do something incredibly ridiculousEdit

You would never in a MILLION YEARS even consider such drab behaviour.

... and yet, THE SPIRIT OF ROCK... it calls to you!

In the past...Edit

That is highly classified information. You can't even begin to imagine how enraged you would be if you found out your information was being displayed for all to see on some sort of public information forum, blog, or what-have-you. The idea is absolutely ridiculous!

In the future...Edit

In the future, you will discover the chance you have been waiting for all your life...

Your chance... TO BECOME A GOD.

But of course, the means to this end require only the most professional help boondollars can buy. You enlist the aid of other gifted prodigies much like yourself, in hopes that your years of experience give you an advantage over younger troll players in the pursuit of SGRUB's ultimate goal...

Your chosen team of elites will be absolutely unbeatable. You are quite sure that nothing can possibly go wrong.

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