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Bio

I'll be the first to admit I'm bad at writing bios, to steal from the pleasure of you doing so. Whenever I make characters, I spend hours working on their personalities, skills, physical traits, but I always leave the bio for last. Some subconscious power decides story-time is when to turn my inspiration lights off.

I was born in Maryland, much to my dismay. There, I lived in the rugged suburbs, cursed by the yearly torments of feet-high snow and humid summers. I never really fit in with the rest of the state's denizens. You see, I despise crab. Crabs are commonly referred to in Maryland as Chesapeake Ambrosia, Godfood, and Life, so you can see my conflict. Crab dip is alright, and I won't say no to a smattering of Old Bay on my french fries, but when it comes to downing the actual crustacean in the flesh, I falter. Everything about it, from taste to texture, turns me off. Crab cakes especially are a personal horror. Despite this unforgivable sin, I was not excommunicated from the handgun-shaped state until the ripe young age of 14.

I now attend the University of Texas at San Antonio, a local school nationally recognized for its Cybersecurity research. Being the mathematically-challenged individual that I am, I've decided to enroll in the Computer Science program, and am currently in the seemingly endless quest of challenging my Freshman year. I am currently working as a customer service manager at a Walmart Neighborhood Market, while also attending UTSA full-time. I find my days fairly scheduled and pedantic, though to be told I do enjoy the order. However, a small part of me still yearns for some sort of freedom from it all, to break free from the mold that confines me to my daily stress of mundanity. I am way too young for a midlife crisis, consarnit.

I have been told I am a loquacious, verbacious erudite in my phenomenal scholarly vernacular. I've also been told I know words good. I enjoy writing, both poetry and prose, and like to think I'm good at both. I'd assume that's more a matter of opinion than anything else, and my opinion is bound to be skewed. I've been told I'm good at roleplaying as well, but I might just be playing the part. That was a joke... I'm bad at jokes. I'm also really good at getting organized, especially when I put my mind to it. I can be quite perfectionistic. I spend a lot of time thinking about where I'm going to find romance. I'm an idealist, in that sense, but please don't let my absolute dissatisfaction with reality dissuade you. My dreams are mine. I also enjoy thinking about psychology, sociology, philosophy... any sort of social science or humanity relating to human creation. A particular focus of mine is in cognitive psychology derived through psychoanalysis; personality theory and motivations, for sure. I enjoy art, and finding meanings in it... or just art for art's sake. I'm also spend a lot of time just daydreaming things.

I tumble edgy poetry: serenitypredisposed.tumblr.com

Favorite genres: Lovecraftian horror, high fantasy, slice of life, cyberpunk, noir, steampunk, Victorian, and gothic.

Favorite fandoms: Homestuck, Harry Potter, H.P. Lovecraft, Magic: The Gathering, Xanth, Game of Thrones, and Pokemon.

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Most Recent Posts

In Sgrub: Chapter One 26 Oct 2016 1:49 Forum: Casual Roleplay
It's either @UnknownScarlet4's turn, or we could start another cycle, making it @auspiciousPetal's.
In Sburb Ω[full] 24 Oct 2016 18:33 Forum: Casual Roleplay
Name: Coboli Gorden

Moon: Derse

Age: 7 sweeps

Sex: Female

Trollium Tag: methodicalAdministrant [MA]

Occupation: Scrutiniver

Strife Specibus: Paperkind

Fetch Modus: Filing Cabinet (Items must be picked up in alphabetical order A-Z, or else the entire sylladex inventory is ejected.)

---

This is an OFFICE.

You may think it is a broom closet, at first, what with all the brooms and the closety dimension, but upon closer observation you will find it does indeed have all the things good offices have: A desk, a computer, some cabinets, and a shiny PLAQUE on the door. The inhabitant of this office is very proud of her plaque, and polishes it every day to better showcase this is HER office and no one else's. Well, except for the custodial staff, who have nowhere else to store their mops and buckets. Cleaning buckets. I meant cleaning buckets. Who would let the other kind anywhere near a self-respecting office? I shudder at the thought.

Now, what is this office-worker's name?

You are COBOLI GORDEN, a fastidious and diligent member of the Alternian bureaucracy. You work as a SCRUTINIVER, which is an incredibly boring, monotonous, and meticulous occupation involving the reading and rereading of longwinded legal documents. It's essentially a paralegal, but without the incredibly cool name that makes you sound like some sort of badass lawyer-paratrooper. Not that you wanted to be a lawyer-paratrooper, as that career sounds like an incredibly professional way to get yourself killed. Many anal-retentive, detail-obsessed arsewipes end up as scrutinivers when they trod on too many toes with their incessant complaining, yourself unbeknowingly nonwithstanding; The bluer bloods don't want to put to waste good genetic material, but find the incessant meddling migraine-inducing. Your particular focus is on processing the poor sods ON CALL FOR CULLING. You like to think you save lives by making sure mistakes aren't made in such a crucial matter, but the truth is, your superiors usually just stick your reports and requests in a dusty old box with more cobweb than cardboard.

Whenever you're not fussing about details, you like to spend your time online CHATTING with her various "friends" on Trollium. Your handle is methodicalAdministrant, a reflection of your misplaced occupational pride, and your text is the same soft teal as the blood that courses through your veins. You have a habit of BEING BLOCKED within the first few minutes of conversations. There's no blatant reason for this rudeness, from your perspective, though you assume it might be because too many people can't take CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM.

MA: If you try to use more of your personnel resources, then you might bring some efficiency into your work.

UK: Buzzzzzz off, you zzzzzzTinging TwaT!

UK has blocked MA.

As evidenced above, your scrutiny towards the world around you extends even into the virtual world. You make very certain to SPEAK PROPERLY, not only abstaining from vulgar and vernacular words and using proper grammar, but also shying away from the TERRIBLE QUIRKS that most trolls seem to adore. This is how you avoid cluttered chaos in conversation!

In Sburb Ω[full] 24 Oct 2016 1:04 Forum: Casual Roleplay
Basic Information

Name: Sera Morissi

Age: 13

Gender: Female

Chumhandle: unkemptAeons [UA]

Color: #4e4e4f

Character Description

Standing at a relatively unimpressive height of 5'6, Sera still somehow carries an ominous air of imposition. Maybe it's the way she stares blankly at others with her pale grey eyes. Maybe it's the way her thick, inky-black hair sometimes blows even without a breeze. Maybe it's her incessant conversations with people that don't seem to actually exist. Whatever the case, those that interact with her have a tendency to feel tense, nervous, even downright distraught. This extends even to her own parents, who often give her open reign in an attempt to avoid her piercing, haunting glares. This poorly earned freedom is usually spent on collecting various indie albums and practicing occult magic in her attic room.

Somehow, your archaic life still allows for the menial triviality of friendships. You've earned yourself a tiny smattering met mainly through a mutually used music board, where you often debate the complex symbolism and haunting omens your favorite artists divine. Many find it difficult to hold an extended conversation with you, however, as you often throw in cryptic messages, blatantly misused phrases, and Shakespearean English in equal measure.

Game Traits

Entry Item: A dead, wilted flower.

God Tier: Sylph of Doom

Planet: The Land of Scrolls and Solitude

In Sgrub: Chapter One 10 Oct 2016 15:50 Forum: Casual Roleplay
Maybe in a fair fight, they would have stood a chance. But the two teals, hovering above the body of a slaughtered noble, did not know she was watching. One, bearing the uniform of a legislacerator, was kneeling beside the ravaged troll, while the other was taking notes in a thick book. Quickly, silently, she descended from her perch above the narrow alleyway, whipping her hand across the back of the recorder’s neck. She crumpled, her journal falling to ground beside her. The legislacerator turned, his eyes widening, but the drinker was already on top of him. Few but bluebloods could match her speed. Fangfall’s finger’s twitched, and the lawkeeper toppled, an aquamarine stain already flowering on his chest. Before he could hit the ground, she leapt forward, catching him by the throat of his outfit.

“Do you know why I am here?” she whispered, pulling his face into her own. The legislacerator flinched, his eyes pressed tight in fear.

“I don’t… are you a rebel? Please, I don’t want anything to do with that mess, I’m just doing my job, I’ll tell you anything you need to know just please don’t kill me I have a matesprit and he…” the victim stuttered. Fangfall silenced him with a hiss, and he cowered once more.

“I am not a part of the rebellion. I am not looking for information, reform, or petty squabbles. I am here because you,” to emphasize the word, she shook the whimpering troll, “are with her. You are just as guilty as the rest of them. Say it!” The last part came out like a barking command, fangs flashing in the dim light.

“I… I’m guilty! Please, I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m guilty, I’m guilty, just please don’t kill me!” The tealblood was practically sobbing now, his body limp and resigned in Fangfall’s grasp. “I’ll do… I’ll do anything you want… please…”

“You killed him. You killed him, just like all the others. You may not have held the blade, but your actions, your allegiances, make you just as much at fault. You killed him and you don’t even care, do you?” She leaned in closer, her nose touching with her captive’s. “You’re just another soulless monster. Just like all the others.”

“I care I care I’m a monster, just like you said I killed him please…” the legislacerator spouted in a terrified ramble.

“Repent! You’ve confessed, now ask me! Beg me to forgive you!” Her voice was rising, almost a shout, her body tensed and shaking with anger.

“Forgive me! I killed him I’m sorry please forgive me!” As soon as he said these words, the drinker relaxed, her snarl turning into a smile. She loosened her grip for a moment, and the lawkeeper exhaled in relief. But the moment of peace was short lived as the nails once more tightened, spinning him around into a chokehold. Fangfall’s lips brushed against his ear, whispering the last words he would ever hear.

“You are absolved.”

The pain was blinding, though it only lasted for a few short seconds. Then it numbed, the curtains fell, and darkness became his world. Fangfall let his body slide down onto the pavement, wiping his blood from her lips. She turned, ready to leave, when a breathless voice coughed behind her. The scrutiniver was still alive, somehow, despite her shattered spine.

“You are just as guilty,” she told her. The dying recorder could only watch, her mouth opening and closing breathlessly. Fangfall approached her, kneeling down beside her sprawling form. “Confess.” The scrutiniver made a noise halfway between a croak and a groan, but no words came out. The drinker placed her hand on the injured troll’s chest. Even if she wanted to plead, wanted to beg, it was obvious she couldn’t. There was no relief in death without confession. Fangfall leaned in, her mouth open, and ended the administrant’s suffering.

“You are absolved,” she said, though the words now felt like a lie. They hung over her shoulders like an invisible shroud, turning her righteous mood darker. Trying to ignore it, Fangfall rose, and disappeared into the night.
In Sgrub: Chapter One 10 Oct 2016 12:39 Forum: Casual Roleplay
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