#lamiac fenris

[micyclemorton]

this is a loooong one, boys

yes this is going to be a masterpost for my main 12 trolls so you can get to know them! they’re not all in the same world, but I don’t have any class/aspect clashes. biographies posted under the cut! suirev - burgundy / lumina - bronze / dietas - gold / phobis - mutant / lamiac - olive / immera - jade / ruilin - teal / tracor - cerulean / itoria - indigo / jezakk - purple / astril - violet / cirlun - fuchsia suirev - sylph of light / lumina - page of space / dietas - thief of doom phobis - mage of life / lamiac - seer of mind /  immera - bard of heart ruilin - rogue of hope / tracor - prince of blood / itoria - knight of breath jezakk - heir of time / astril - witch of rage / cirlun - maid of void 

suirev, lumina, immera, ruilin and jezakk are alternian, but only immera and ruilin are connected in terms of their lore. dietas, itoria and tracor are beforan, and all connected. suirev, lamiac, astril and cirlun hail from exonera (the first planet in the universe of my fansession) and are all connected to each other.

suirev - praying mantis lusus lumina - star-nosed mole lusus dietas - chameleon lusus phobis - serpent lusus lamiac - fennec fox lusus immera - venezualan poodle moth lusus ruilin - raccoon lusus tracor - scorpion lusus itoria - ant lusus jezakk - harp seal lusus astril - angler fish lusus cirlun - axolotl lusus

~~

YOUR NAME IS SUIREV HELIOS.

Nobody believes you, not even your MANTIS LUSUS, but you know a lot more about the fate of the world than you let on. They dismiss your PROPHECIES as bogus, no matter how many tomes you write, and you’ve lost count of how many that is. You consider yourself PRETTY ENLIGHTENED, but not in the spiritual sense… yet. The spirits that pester your caste a lot of the time even seem to avoid you, which would have confused you a time ago, but now you know why.

You’ve developed a nasty habit of checking everything you want to say in your head, and they’re sick of being your mental proofreaders. They’ve made it very clear they dislike you, so you have some HEALING to do. People find you preachy, but that confuses you a lot. You’re mostly silent so that you can concentrate on the cacophony (spirits or no spirits) ringing through your pan, as you get some REALLY GOOD STORY IDEAS from them. Besides, you were named after an OLD GOD for a reason. You should have the right to preach.

One might even say that you’re COMPLETELY RAVING MAD, but at least you try to keep your appearance in check. It’s a shame your blood colour makes your EYE BAGS so obvious.

Your handle is LiteraryLunatic, and y★u end y★ur sentences with exclamati★n marks! S★ n★b★dy notices h★w tired y★u are! Besides, y★u’ve been staying up all night with pr★phecies racing thr★ugh your pan! 

~~

YOUR NAME IS LUMINA SERVIN.

You’re a maniacally busy troll, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, because your pan is always buzzing with NEW IDEAS. You have to keep yourself busy to fend off the ENCROACHING EXISTENTIAL DREAD that fills lowbloods like you. Your mole guardian helps you expand your desert-bound hive-workshop, because you’re often too busy - catering to all of the stupid VIOLET TOURISTS AND LANDDWELLERS in the nearby hive-clusters in order to make money and survive - to pay any attention to trivial household chores. 

You’re not very good at what you do yet - though some would suggest otherwise - and you’re just striving to be better. You can recognise that you have the POTENTIAL to be GREATER, and it’s all just barely out of reach. You made yourself some KICK-ASS GOGGLES, inspired by the human subculture of STEAMPUNK, which you adore. They’re probably your best work to date, and you wear them so constantly that you’re afraid they’ll meld onto your face sometimes. The metal they’re made of, BRONZE, is the same colour as your blood, and one of the most pleasing aesthetically, in your opinion. No-one’s figured that out yet, luckily enough.

You’re an avid blacksmith, inventor, tinkerer and the rest of it. You’re making quite sure that you possess any title that involves HANDS-ON CREATION, really. Sometimes, you COMPLETELY SPACE OUT when you should be working, thinking of how best to go about things that really don’t require that much thought. It’s just how you roll.

Your handle is MechanicalMiner, and SOoMETIMES YOoU CAN COoME OoFF AS A LITTLE TOoOo LOoUD BECAUSE OoF WHAT’S PROoBABLY INDUSTRIAL DEAFNESS, EVEN AT THIS AGE.

~~

YOUR NAME IS DIETAS LAMBDA.

Misfortune has pretty much DEFINED YOUR LIFE up until now, but that’s not important. What really matters is your job, and it’s a relief to have distraction. You know that you’ve been through a WHOLE LOT OF HELL, and would never wish that on anyone else. Ever since you crashed a training ship, blacked out for a bit and met your moirail, your dear ITORIA, things changed. Your HELMSTROLL DREAMS might have shattered, but she made sure you’re not too miserable.

YOU CAN SEE EVERYTHING. Well, almost. After losing your biological eye in the crash, Itoria built you a brand-new one, and now you can see in INFRARED LIGHT as well. You’ve recovered thanks to her, and you want to repay her by TAKING AWAY THE SUFFERING OF OTHERS, doing what she did for you. You travel around selling CHARGED-UP PROSTHETICS to trolls in need, while simultaneously keeping off the trail of the OVERSEERS, a pack of Ceruleans who you’re pretty sure want to kill you and your moirail for saving people.

YOU’RE NEVER GOING BACK TO THAT PLACE. The training centres are a source of shame and hurt for you, because you abandoned your guardian to get a purpose that ended up not working at all. How dumb that was.

Your handle is PsionicProsthesis. Yx0xu speak with a flare that reminds yx0xu of the symbx0xl that was given tx0x yx0xu at the training centres, as it’s a hx0xpe yx0xu’ll never fx0xrget despite the negative memx0xries, and tx0x represent yx0xur lx0xst eye. 

~~

YOUR NAME IS PHOBIS SACCHE.

If your lusus could talk, they’d probably say you were a NERVOUS WRECK. You’re not going to tell anyone otherwise, because your shaking hands prevent you from pulling up the blinds in your constantly darkened hive. Not that you’d want to, of course, since you live in a GHOST TOWN. Populated by literal ghosts. They don’t interact with you much, which you’re extremely grateful for. If the drones thought you were alive, you’d be dead in two seconds flat, with your BRIGHT RED BLOOD on public display.

It’s MAGICAL that you’ve survived this long, but you think it’s because of the menacing SERPENT that you’re fortunate enough to have as your guardian. You like to use their scales to fortify the SCYTHES AND OTHER WEAPONRY you build for yourself. They tend to do most of the hunting, as you can’t risk going out of your hive much, but you do enjoy training. Your LIFE itself is a gamble, and it makes you paranoid as hell, but at least you’re a decent fighter. Not that anyone would know or care. You also like TELESCOPES and looking at the STARS, but have no idea that your symbol means anything to do with that.

Your handle is SerpentineStargazer, and youre a phucking,,,, phucking brasssh little,,,,, ssshit whossse dumb… dumb phorked tongue makesss you…. hisss when youre nervoussss. ~~

YOUR NAME IS LAMIAC FENRIS.

You’re small in stature, but that doesn’t undermine how HARD-WORKING AND DRIVEN you can be. After all, when you work for THE EMPRESS, things need to be perfect. You’re also RESIDENT TELEMARAUDER of SKAIANET SYSTEMS, being tasked with worming your way into people’s minds to sell DIFFERENT NEFARIOUSLY-LABELLED PRODUCTS.  You’ve never seen them made, but that’s not your job. It’s most likely for the best, anyway, seeing as how easily frightened you can be when FENFOXMOM isn’t around. Working for such an awful corporation and even more awful people - looking at you, Mr LaCroix - makes you sick to your stomach, but you need the security.

You’re a pleasant enough troll to be around, but can always change your expression and demeanour, your words cutting as sharp as the weapons you use to defend yourself. You do hate getting your claws dirty unless people really get on your nerve, in which case you’ll tear them to shreds verbally and physically. Somehow, the renovated ballroom you use as your office has been clean of client’s blood for a whole week! Something tells you you shouldn’t be excited about that, but what can you say? You’re territorial. Even though you can’t remember the last time you properly hunted, you can SEE WHAT’S GOING ON INSIDE PEOPLES’ HEADS and defend yourself. 

Your best friend at the palace is the HEIRESS, which can be a bit strange due to the remarkable caste-gap between you, but she barely seems to care about that sort of a thing, which is nice. She’s the reason you have the job at the palace, because you consider THE EMPRESS HERSELF to be a very disagreeable person, even though you can’t exactly state that out loud unless you’re gossiping with Cirlun. 

Your handle is FluctuatingFoxfire, and yo)u speak in a manner that perfec)tly c)o)nveys yo)ur need to) pro)tec)t yo)urself fro)m harsh judgement, while also) ho)no)uring the sign emblazo)ned ac)ro)ss yo)ur w)ork c)lo)thes at all times. ~~ YOUR NAME IS IMMERA METREN.  

You’ve always been down in the BROODING CAVERNS, doing what all Jades should do and tending to the Mother Grub as she churns out her little grubs for everyone to see. You’d rather not be around to see them, if you’re being honest. You think it’s all just tiresome, thankless work, and aren’t really sure why exactly YOU HAVEN’T RUN AWAY YET. The chattering of your colleagues makes your head hurt, and their happy-go-lucky demeanours just make you REALLY WANT TO SCREAM. At this point, you’d take being a lowblood fighting for their life over whatever job you have here. One occupationless troll among thousands won’t hurt the economy too much, right? You sure hope not.

The fuzzy, pathetic, colourless MOTH you have as your lusus is just waiting to be crushed in the busy environment, and she refuses to leave you alone. Most Jades’ lusii abandon them if they work in a cramped space and fulfil the DESTINY SET OUT FOR THEM, but yours won’t. It’s not like you have the HEART to tell them to leave, and they barely listen to you as it is. No one seems to, troll or otherwise, even though your ninth wriggling day has come and gone and you feel your WINGS growing in. Generally speaking, that’s more of a rare Bronzeblood thing, but you’re sure that’s why your back is itching. You suppose it’s one of the - only - perks of being grub-like. 

You just want to do one of two things: Have your colleagues SING YOUR PRAISES for your hard work, as they should acknowledge you, or ESCAPE INTO THE ALTERNIAN WILDERNESS so deeply that not even your lusus will be bothered to traverse your dangerous path. But you have to put up with the noise and the heat and the MURDEROUS INTENT blooming inside you where it shouldn’t really be in the first place.

Your handle is VindictiveVenusian, and YOUR’3 NOT <3RY TOL3RANT OF ANY HOOF33ASTSHIT YOUR COLL3AGU3S TRY TO SPOUT AROUND YOU, SO YOU TRY TO <<ARN THEM OF A POTENTIAL KISM3SITUD3 AT ANY GI<3N MOM3NT. ~~ YOUR NAME IS RUILIN CAPITA.

Some would call you a thief, but you have more dignity than that. Even though people continue to call you dirty and look down upon you for the nefarious way you act, it’s JUST WHAT YOU’VE BEEN TAUGHT by your RACCOON LUSUS. You love them more than you love getting your MONEY-GRUBBING CLAWS all over your newest riches, and that’s certainly a testament to just how highly you think of them. They’ve always been around for you, and you WISH SINCERELY that they’ll never leave, because they’re the only support you have. 

You weren’t exactly raised well, being stuck in the BROODING CAVERNS for far longer than you should’ve been while the lusii took charge of all the grubs around you. YOU’RE THE ODD-ONE-OUT. It’s filled you with WHITE-HOT RESENTMENT, and you’re on a mission to gain back what you lost. You’d once wanted to become a legislacerator or something like that, as with all the other trolls in your caste. But that doesn’t quite suit the reputation you have on the streets, nor the way you’ve been treated. Why get justice for a system you don’t believe in? Besides, you know that someone would rat you out so that you’d be culled, not be the one doing the culling.

You want to take back what was stolen from you, and you’ll get your TRUSTY GAUNTLETS dirty any number of times to do so. Mostly, though, you steal money just because you have the skills to. Being a mid-lowblood isn’t the best, so you’ve picked up tips and tricks from THE VERY THUGS YOU’D NOT WANT TO STEAL FROM YOU.

Your handle is RaucousRebellion, and ¥ou t¥p€ using th€ many $trang€ $ymbol$ ¥ou find on ¥our ¢oin$ and not€$ - that w€r€n’t €xa¢tl¥ *¥our$.* until a mom€nt ago.

~~

YOUR NAME IS TRACOR BOLDEL. 

Everyone agrees with what you have to say, and that’s exactly how you like it. That’s how it’s always been, from the moment you were chosen in the brooding caverns by your MAGNIFICENT SCORPION LUSUS. They left you long ago, because you didn’t think you needed them, and you don’t really care where they might be right now. They’ve taught you to be commanding, and now your words STING SHARPER than the knives you’re so fond of using at any opportunity you may get. It’s not necessary, really, but it makes you seem fittingly intimidating and means that NO-ONE WILL STEP OUT OF LINE. 

So you thought. Contending with idiots in the PRISMATIC TRAINING CENTRE FOR YOUNG PSIONS ((LOCATION B2)) is a much harder task than you first realised, due to the fact that there aren’t enough OVERSEERS and too many indigoblooded instructors that know that they can break your control with a little bit more effort than you can prevent. Why they couldn’t spare two ceruleans per centre is beyond you, but it hardly matters enough. You’ll kill with your knives if your empath abilities don’t work, or they don’t COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY DOMINATE THE COMPETITION YOU’RE CONVINCED IS REAL.

Even though you’re so busy sending goldbloods to their deaths, and you don’t really have time for quadrants, ITORIA APREIN IS OUT FOR YOUR BLOOD. She’s the main reason why you think there’s an uprising stirring within the centre, and the trolls who you let loose from your control at the end of the day DON’T WORSHIP YOU LIKE THEY SHOULD. You’ll fix that over time, of course, but you are just waiting for the right moment to strike. Your handle is BloodthistyBenevolence, and yovr tone of voice is aluuays nnvch gentler than anyone uuovld expect it to be.

~~

YOUR NAME IS ITORIA APREIN.

Since you rebelled against the TRAINING CENTRES, there has ben a resolute sense of MORAL IMPORTANCE instilled inside you. You don’t think there’s anything else you can do to fulfil your need to help people than providing refuge for the goldbloods entranced by the idealistic, worrisome occupation of helmstroll. It doesn’t bore you if there are a few trolls that come and knock on your door every so often, because ANTMOM has always been around to support you, and she’s even harder a worker tham you. You’ve always wanted to redeem yourself, and realised that preventing the CERULEAN OVERSEERS from culling any more innocent lowbloods is the way to go. There’s nothing more that feels properly fulfilling than DEFENDING OTHERS WITH EVERYTHING YOU’VE GOT.

BREAKING YOUR APATHETIC SHELL has been a hard task and still is, but you’re working as hard as you can to prevent shutting away from the world. Emotional expression has always seemed like something forbidden, especially to INDIGOBLOODS like you. YOU DON’T LIKE FEELING VULNERABLE, but there’s nothing much you can do about it unless everyone just leaves you alone and without any chance to heal. DIETAS makes you feel better about expressing yourself, and you’ve developed pale affections for the little goldblood ever since you found them SCARED AND HALF-DEAD IN THE FOLIAGE. It frightened you, but now not much can. You’re a strong team, and you know they’ll be a backup when things go awry with your DEARLY DETESTED KISMESIS, TRACOR.

You use your knack and love of WIRING AND CIRCUITRY to keep everything safe, creating cameras to track the trolls in your care. You also enjoy SHOOTING DOWN SURVEILLANCE DRONES, because you’ll never truly be FREE of the Overseers and your haunting past if you don’t do something to prevent their poor, uncoordinated attempts at monitoring you. You’re glad for that bit of your unfortunate occupation, at least.

Your handle is EsotericEngineer, and yOu c△n’t seem tO seper△te yOurself frOm △ symbOl Of the life yOu left behind.

~~

YOUR NAME IS JEZAKK IMETAT.

YOUR TIME IS RUNNING OUT. There’s not much you can do about it, though, because your circus troupe’s on the rise, and the RINGMASTER is starting to get some very bad ideas of what they might do to get you to actually comply for once. There’s nothing you can say that’ll make the people around you actually stop and listen. You feel small, so you try to wear BRIGHT, FLASHY COLOURS and STRIPY TIGHTS to mimic the figures so prominent in the jack-in-the-boxes you’ve always been fond of making and tinkering around with. You have no idea when that particular fascination set in, but it keeps you distracted from worse things that might happen to you. Despite the fact that you’re a highblood, you’re younger than the other performers in the troupe and feel more vulnerable than you should be.

You’re not really meant to be in the troupe, anyway. There was a time where you assume some SEADWELLERS were hunting for food or the fun of it - none of which they need to do, you’re guessing, because of how rich they are -  and that was when you’d realised there was a harpoon broken off in SEALDAD’S side. So you saw the distant big top and ran to it, hoping that someone could help your lusus. He *was* healed, which you’re grateful beyond gratefulness for, but then… you don’t really remember. Blaring carnival lights, yellow-tinged and blinding, and then… EVERYTHING CHANGED. You never quite made it back to the sea, because the other purples started to teach you their ways, and you have an eerie feeling that they were trying to lure you into working for the ringmaster, who most of them (except for your ‘friend’ Othamo, who’s pretty fearless in a callous way) worship like a god.

Then you did, but you’re working for yourself most of the time. Wilfully disobedient. You just want to get out of the troupe, and you’ll do anything you can, but it’s been a few sweeps already. Performing with Sealdad makes you happy, and your contraptions do. So maybe it’s not so bad to stay for a little while longer. The time will come when you can make a break for it, you’re sure, just as long as you can secure an escape plan that means your lusus won’t be out of the water for too long at once.

Your handle is ClockworkCarnevale. _/[[ yOU’rE EAsIly scArEd, yOUr vOIcE gEttIng ErrAtIcAlly lOUdEr At wEIrd tImEs. bUt yOU bEt thE jAcks In yOUr bOxEs ArE fInE, sO yOU EnclOsE yOUr tExt In OnE tOO, tryIng nOt tO pAnIc. ]] ~~ YOUR NAME IS ASTRIL HURICA.

Though you suppose you go by ASTRIL ZEPHYR now. Nothing’s really worked out for you in your life, but the dastardly clairvoyant you’ve seen loitering around your ADOPTIVE DAUGHTER swears that EVERYTHING’S YOUR FAULT. She’s all wrong, of course, and you have the authority to - and half a mind to - completely banish her from the palace if she says one more thing to damage your opinion of her, which was always bad in the first place. You’re now the ‘mother�� of Cirlun, a disobedient and woefully immature fuchsiablood who was entrusted to you by virtue of your position as head of the VENERATED COUNCIL OF VIOLETS. It was disbanded many a sweep ago, with the heiress’ arrival on your sad little planet. THE COUNCIL was a committee of seadwellers with the purest blood, closest to that of a natural Aquarian, who banded together to keep the citizens of DUIIARIA (Now colloquially ‘Earth X’) from descending into anarchy. 

You don’t have the best relationship sense, being that you CULLED YOUR MOTHER at the tender age of six sweeps. You could argue that you were only small, and naive, but you were seething with unbridled resentment and RAGE, even knowing that anglerfish don’t talk and thus don’t communicate well. You’ve kept that QUIETLY MURDEROUS DISPOSITION ever since the deed was carried out, and never intend to drop it. Tyranny is the only way you know how to keep your citizens in check, and you don’t intend to learn any other way. It’s ruthlessly effective, and that’s the only standard you’ll accept. It’s probably one of the reason’s why everyone thinks you’re WICKED AND UNCOMPROMISING, even your own daughter. You’d like nothing more than to leave Cirlun to her own devices and show her just how foolish she is to want pacifism.

But now, you wait eagerly in the shadows until she reaches the appropriate age to ascend to the throne. Then you’ll truly teach her what it’s like to fight for her life, even though you never really had to in your own right. You’ve spent a long, long time trying to prepare Duiiaria for survival when up against MILITARY AND INTERGALACTIC OPPOSITION, as you want to conquer as much as you can. You’re not about to relinquish your autocratic mindset for a brat like her, even though she has the right by blood. It won’t matter so much any more if you spill it first.

Your handle is GalacticGalvaniser, and you speak As Cr1sply And D1rec7ly As You Expect Your Orders 7o Carry 7hrough 7o Your L177le C171zens. 7OUR 7EMPERAMENT CHANGES S11GH717 WHEN YOU’RE ANGR7, 7HOUGH.

~~ YOUR NAME IS CIRLUN ZEPHYR.

You’re the heiress to an empire that you want none of. You were adopted by a troll (despite having a rather pathetic and sickly lusus) after emerging from the CHOKING DARKNESS, and she won’t give you the time of day (unless it’s to mock you for your poor fighting times) so you’ve realised there’s no point in asking how. That’s the only thing you’re glad for, you suppose. The fact that she stays out of your hair is certainly good, because you’re not good in social situations or with diplomacy at all, and you have plenty of time to escape up to the palace’s extensive library. The library is the only time you get any relief from any pressure being an heiress brings.

Reading, of course, is your main form of escapism since it’s so easy to access. Nobody much minds that you while away your time in the library, save for when ASTRIL sends guards to pull you away from your latest fascination to train. Training, that is, for your imminent death at the Empress’ own hand - or trident, as it were. You don’t really know why she does train you directly, since you think that’s something you need to do for yourself, but you guess she *is* PRETTY DAMN BLOODTHIRSTY. The fact that you put up a fight makes everything that much more enjoyable, and you’d say you’re a MORE THAN SERVICEABLE fighter. So much so that you swear you’d be at the forefront of your mother’s GALACTIC ARMY had she not decided she wanted to cull you from the moment she first laid eyes on you. 

You’re pretty sheltered, being the only fuchsiablood in your timeline, but you do have a moirail (who you’re pretty sure your mother wouldn’t like at all by virtue of his being a MUTANT) that you sneak out and see under the guise of MYSTER WAEVEL, just another violetblood. Technology has made it easier for you to hide your own blood, and you’re hoping that Etoile could one day mask his as well. Inside the palace walls, LAMIAC FENRIS is your best and only friend, and you often sit with each other and talk when she’s not working. The stories she tells are mainly client complaints, but you’re lucky that the gory recounts she tells with such zeal don’t turn your stomach much. The bloodstains on her office walls don’t help. 

A lot about you is a total mystery, but that’s just the way you like it. 

Your handle is AlchemicAxolotl, named for your love of the lusus you’re NOT SUPPOSED TO HAVE. ))((oping you )(onour your biggest rolemodel - w)(o's long gone, only around in t)(e b∞ks you pour over - you've since added a little flair to your typing, and t)(ink it l∞ks a lot more personal. ~

[micyclemorton]

(IN COLOUR ORDER) SUIREV HELIOS - ARPIO LUMINA SERVIN - TAURGA DIETAS LAMBDA - GEMINO LAMIAC FENRIS - LERA IMMERA METREN - VIRO RUILIN CAPITA - LIBNIUS TRACOR BOLDEL - SCORCEN ITORIA APREIN - SAGIUN ASTRIL HURICA - AQUICORN CIRLUN ZEPHYR - PITTARIUS since this is gibberish to most of you who dont know my trolls PLEASE ask me abt them