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May. 1st, 2013 05:51 pm player
Name: Stephen
Age: 20
Timezone: Eastern Time
Contact: Skype & Aim (Skype preferred)
Skype - ddrwakalaka
AIM - interrobangings
character
Name: Targes Agrada
Age: "16" years/7.5 sweeps
Blood Colour: Cerulean
Strife Specibi: Flailkind
Fetch Modus: Last-Letter First-Letter Modus, the last letter of the name of whatever he took out last becomes the restriction; for example, Polearm -> Marmalade -> Eggshell -> Lime
Title and Role: Knight of Life
Dreamer: Derse
Canon Point: A week after he entered his session
Targes Agrada started out as many trolls did, a wiggler screeching and writhing around, looking for their lusii. Targes, luckily, was picked by a particularly large goliath beetle (whom Targes would later affectionately nickname 'David.') They would settle in a cliffside which would be bored out and built into a small fortress of sorts over time.
Though cerulean-blooded trolls are only the bottom rung of nobility, they are nobility nonetheless, and Targes was no exception. Unfortunately, this kind of upbringing made him (platonically) pity those in the lower castes, seeing them as a weak useless bunch who needed protecting. Combined with the fact that Targes was not very good with other trolls, being a bit naturally impulsive and acting without thinking, he sought to become an icon of justice and fairness for all -- a white knight, one could even say. From a young age, he would constantly get into fights either on his husktop under the name 'allabastrineGallant' or real, physical ones -- which he would most likely lose, due to challenging those in higher castes than him (he'd win sometimes, though!). Over time, this constant fighting lead to him learning how to better defend himself, and a interest in weaponry was sparked. He began to collect many different kinds of weapons, fascinated with the battles they had been in and histories behind them, no matter how bloody. This lead to a fondness of both weaponry and history. In particular, he thought the dreaded pirate, Mindfang was really quite cool despite the alleged (and vague) bad things she'd done. But she was a Cerulean blood! And a cool one!
His most prized weapon, he is unsure of its origins, though it is a powerful flail that emits a soft 'oontz oontz' that grew louder and louder with each swing.
Over the sweeps, he would slowly learn to approach things with a bit more discipline and class, leading to the polite way Targes speaks and treats others. His strong sense of justice would only be imrpoved by this discipline and class. Though, his justice was flawed, as he would charge in headlong without investigation, normally taking the side of those in the lower castes, defending them to the best of his ability.
Though he has attempted to fill his quadrants many times, it never quite seemed to work out, though he did stay on positive terms with the one matesprit he did have, a lowblooded forest-dwelling troll named Ursuss, whom he had a relationship with for almost half a sweep. Targes was a little oblivious -- and still is to other trolls feelings , and has been making an effort to pay more attention to that in the future.
While he spent a lot of his time trying to interact with others, Targes would frequently go out exploring with his lusus, hoping to find some great mystery or something that would make him into a hero -- something more than the silly whiteknight who got beaten up a lot.
His search came to an end when he stumbled across a copy of some new special kind of game -- though he wasn't quite sure what kind of game it was and the description was rather vague, he found it was unlike anything he'd expected.
After the installation was completed, a horrible "bang" and a crash was heard outside. Meteors had begun falling from the sky! In a hurry, he scrambled to deploy the few items he could, having the luck to deploy the cruxtruder second. Once the top had been knocked off by a stray rock landing on the top, the cliffside and rest of Targes' hive were sucked into a small black hole, appearing once again in a very, very different place.
Dark clouds covered his Skaia and his cliffside home was left floating around in space. What was new, however, was that he would awake on another planet in his dreams -- he swore to himself that this was merely a dream and not reality, though over the next week, he began to find it more and more difficult to deny it. This darkened, purple city confused him and, to some degree, frightened him. But what frightened him even more was that the 7th time he went to sleep, the purple city was larger and brighter than before, had more towers, and he was unable to wake up.
Items & Abilities: Targes has no special powers -- not yet. Though he was to be the Knight of Life in his session, his session was null and void. These powers are dormant and even he is unaware of them. The Knight of Life powers are standard to the Knights and Life players, however, Targes also as an innate connection to bad dance music and clubbing, as the overseer of the Nightlife. The mysterious reasons behind this may never be known.
Memo Log Sample: video or txt. http://skaiamods.dreamwidth.org/1636.html?thread=675684#cmt675684
Prose Sample: With a sigh, Targes leaned out his window, staring out into the black emptiness that was before him. This was the 3rd 'evening' he'd been stuck here with no means of escape and seemingly no outside communication. He was absolutely certain that this was some sort of awful, horrible prank -- one that had ultimately bested him.
A familiar clicking sound came from behind him. Almost as if check in on him, his enormous lusus nudged him from behind. With a smile, he turned around, gently placing a hand on the monstrous bug's head. "This is quite an awful mess I have gotten us into, David," confessed Targes, feeling guilty. He'd never meant for David to be involved in this as well. "And for that, I wish I could apologize until the mandibles of my face fell clean off, or perhaps another part of me instead that fulfills an equally important purpose. Nonetheless, I am very sorry."
As if accepting his apology, the giant beetle nudged him again. With a smile, he retreated into the safety of his hive and up the stairs. "But I suppose, on the simultaneous bright side, we have all the time in the world to organize my weapons. Perhaps we can even organize them by name and type and how many beheadings were performed with it!" Seeming content with that decision, the great bug trotted up the stairs behind him, clicking and screeching quietly. As Targes picked up a rusty-looking sword, he vowed to himself that he'd get himself and his lusus home, whatever it took.( And then help some more lowbloods, but first getting home.)
Name: Stephen
Age: 20
Timezone: Eastern Time
Contact: Skype & Aim (Skype preferred)
Skype - ddrwakalaka
AIM - interrobangings
character
Name: Targes Agrada
Age: "16" years/7.5 sweeps
Blood Colour: Cerulean
Strife Specibi: Flailkind
Fetch Modus: Last-Letter First-Letter Modus, the last letter of the name of whatever he took out last becomes the restriction; for example, Polearm -> Marmalade -> Eggshell -> Lime
Title and Role: Knight of Life
Dreamer: Derse
Canon Point: A week after he entered his session
Targes Agrada started out as many trolls did, a wiggler screeching and writhing around, looking for their lusii. Targes, luckily, was picked by a particularly large goliath beetle (whom Targes would later affectionately nickname 'David.') They would settle in a cliffside which would be bored out and built into a small fortress of sorts over time.
Though cerulean-blooded trolls are only the bottom rung of nobility, they are nobility nonetheless, and Targes was no exception. Unfortunately, this kind of upbringing made him (platonically) pity those in the lower castes, seeing them as a weak useless bunch who needed protecting. Combined with the fact that Targes was not very good with other trolls, being a bit naturally impulsive and acting without thinking, he sought to become an icon of justice and fairness for all -- a white knight, one could even say. From a young age, he would constantly get into fights either on his husktop under the name 'allabastrineGallant' or real, physical ones -- which he would most likely lose, due to challenging those in higher castes than him (he'd win sometimes, though!). Over time, this constant fighting lead to him learning how to better defend himself, and a interest in weaponry was sparked. He began to collect many different kinds of weapons, fascinated with the battles they had been in and histories behind them, no matter how bloody. This lead to a fondness of both weaponry and history. In particular, he thought the dreaded pirate, Mindfang was really quite cool despite the alleged (and vague) bad things she'd done. But she was a Cerulean blood! And a cool one!
His most prized weapon, he is unsure of its origins, though it is a powerful flail that emits a soft 'oontz oontz' that grew louder and louder with each swing.
Over the sweeps, he would slowly learn to approach things with a bit more discipline and class, leading to the polite way Targes speaks and treats others. His strong sense of justice would only be imrpoved by this discipline and class. Though, his justice was flawed, as he would charge in headlong without investigation, normally taking the side of those in the lower castes, defending them to the best of his ability.
Though he has attempted to fill his quadrants many times, it never quite seemed to work out, though he did stay on positive terms with the one matesprit he did have, a lowblooded forest-dwelling troll named Ursuss, whom he had a relationship with for almost half a sweep. Targes was a little oblivious -- and still is to other trolls feelings , and has been making an effort to pay more attention to that in the future.
While he spent a lot of his time trying to interact with others, Targes would frequently go out exploring with his lusus, hoping to find some great mystery or something that would make him into a hero -- something more than the silly whiteknight who got beaten up a lot.
His search came to an end when he stumbled across a copy of some new special kind of game -- though he wasn't quite sure what kind of game it was and the description was rather vague, he found it was unlike anything he'd expected.
After the installation was completed, a horrible "bang" and a crash was heard outside. Meteors had begun falling from the sky! In a hurry, he scrambled to deploy the few items he could, having the luck to deploy the cruxtruder second. Once the top had been knocked off by a stray rock landing on the top, the cliffside and rest of Targes' hive were sucked into a small black hole, appearing once again in a very, very different place.
Dark clouds covered his Skaia and his cliffside home was left floating around in space. What was new, however, was that he would awake on another planet in his dreams -- he swore to himself that this was merely a dream and not reality, though over the next week, he began to find it more and more difficult to deny it. This darkened, purple city confused him and, to some degree, frightened him. But what frightened him even more was that the 7th time he went to sleep, the purple city was larger and brighter than before, had more towers, and he was unable to wake up.
Items & Abilities: Targes has no special powers -- not yet. Though he was to be the Knight of Life in his session, his session was null and void. These powers are dormant and even he is unaware of them. The Knight of Life powers are standard to the Knights and Life players, however, Targes also as an innate connection to bad dance music and clubbing, as the overseer of the Nightlife. The mysterious reasons behind this may never be known.
Memo Log Sample: video or txt. http://skaiamods.dreamwidth.org/1636.html?thread=675684#cmt675684
Prose Sample: With a sigh, Targes leaned out his window, staring out into the black emptiness that was before him. This was the 3rd 'evening' he'd been stuck here with no means of escape and seemingly no outside communication. He was absolutely certain that this was some sort of awful, horrible prank -- one that had ultimately bested him.
A familiar clicking sound came from behind him. Almost as if check in on him, his enormous lusus nudged him from behind. With a smile, he turned around, gently placing a hand on the monstrous bug's head. "This is quite an awful mess I have gotten us into, David," confessed Targes, feeling guilty. He'd never meant for David to be involved in this as well. "And for that, I wish I could apologize until the mandibles of my face fell clean off, or perhaps another part of me instead that fulfills an equally important purpose. Nonetheless, I am very sorry."
As if accepting his apology, the giant beetle nudged him again. With a smile, he retreated into the safety of his hive and up the stairs. "But I suppose, on the simultaneous bright side, we have all the time in the world to organize my weapons. Perhaps we can even organize them by name and type and how many beheadings were performed with it!" Seeming content with that decision, the great bug trotted up the stairs behind him, clicking and screeching quietly. As Targes picked up a rusty-looking sword, he vowed to himself that he'd get himself and his lusus home, whatever it took.( And then help some more lowbloods, but first getting home.)
