talks with "7"s replacing "t"s, explained as talking in a stilted manner (putting unnecessary emphasis on t's), surrounds each post with the number 777
Be 7he Gigan7ic DouchebagEdit
You are now SORSEN HOYLER. You are currently standing in your RESPITEVAULT, which you had set atop an abandoned factory that you have since "converted" into your HIVE. You are on the short side and a little bit chubby for a troll, but you just chalk that up to your admittedly excessive lifestyle. You are notorious for your GAMBLING ADDICTION, which would be a bad thing, if you weren't so TREMENDOUSLY GIFTED AT CALCULATING ODDS. You have become so good at it after years of practice, that you have made a habit of NUDGING THINGS IN YOUR FAVOR. Gently though. You never show your hand until you're ready. As such, you have come to scoff at the concept of LUCK, and find it rather childish.
You make it a habit of patrolling the CAEGERPORIUMS, especially the high-stakes and high-class ones located in TROLL LAS VEGAS. The more HIGHBLOODS the better, in you're opinion. As a lowly GREENBLOOD, you are generally frowned upon by the higher escilons of troll society, and have made it a habit of raising the stakes obscenely high in games against highbloods and BILKING THEM FOR ALL THEIR WORTH and laughing at their misery in losing so low on the spectrum. In your opinion it is just repayment for something done to you in the past. Because of your traffic in HIGH SOCIETY, you also consider yourself somewhat of a GOURMET, and tend to love FANCY FOOD that in reality is way too overpriced.
As much as you enjoy the rush of GAMBLING, you also have been growing fond of creating your own GAMES OF CHANCE. Sometimes these are as innocent as extra rules of poker, but other times they involve utilizing the factory below as a MAZE OF INSANE AND HAZARDOUS OBSTACLE COURSES. You use the trolls that cannot pay their gambling debts to you as fodder for these games, usually leaving them scarred for life or permanently traumatized, but alive. After all, it's harder to collect money from dead bodies. These games, your money hungry habits, your feux-politeness, and your strange way of speaking have driven just about everyone away from you like the ALTERNIAN PLAGUE.
When you're not DESIGNING GAMES or COUNTING THE PILE OF EARNINGS you have amassed, you are watching one of your collection of SHITTY TROLL HEIST MOVIES. You admit that they're pretty bad and nonsensical, but there's just something about TROLL GEORGE CLOONEY that sets your heart a twittering.
Your lusus is a large snake named Coppertone. He is the only one who understands you, and his venomous kisses that lay you out cold for hours at a time let you know he cares.
You use the BLACKJACKKIND strife specibus. You find that a simple thing like a weight on the end of a handle is just about all you would ever need to make some chumps pay up. Your guise of politeness kind of wears thin when you're seperated from your rightfully-won CAEGERS.
The reason you take such glee from separating highbloods from their money is because, when you were a young, somewhat foolish troll, a collective of INDIGO-BLOODED raiders besieged your original hive, stole all of your worldly possessions, and left you for dead at the hands of the harsh Alternian wilderness. If it weren't for Coppertone, you'd be long dead, which is why you still love the scaly bastard, even if his affections knock you out cold. Thanks to your EMERALD BLOOD, you are immune to all but the strongest of poisons. That doesn't mean that snakedad's won't lay you out for a bit.
Because of your love of numbers and mathmatics, and because luck has never gotten you very far in the past, you are kind of DONE WITH LUCK. Which is why the fact that you are destined to become the MAGE OF LIGHT is woefully ironic.
Your Trollian handle is innocuousHappenstance and you 777 speak in a s7range, sligh7ly s7il7ed manner 777
Sorser: Derived from Sors, the Greek god of Luck and Gambling
Hoylen: Based on Hoyle, the brand of playing cards commonly used by casinos.
He explains that the number seven is his favorite, and that it turns up commonly in almost every instance of numerical value that he has calculated.
In his original story concept, Sorser was going to represent the sin of Greed.
His symbol is the facade of a six-sided dice, altered to have a seventh dot, implying his tendencies to nudge numbers, odds, and even fate in his nature.
Sorser doesn't sleep very often, and when he does, he is usually too distracted by the streets of gold on Prospit to notice the visionary clouds. He doesn't even know about Skaia until he is forcibly made to look upwards.