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[i]Name[/i]: Arestl Idleon

[i]Age[/i]: 8 sweeps

[i]Appearance[/i]: For a purple-blooded troll, Arestl is unnervingly lean. Constant stressing out has left him wiry, not so much muscular as lacking in body fat, and he has a somewhat disturbing tendency to shudder at inopportune moments. His hair is short, mostly because it doesn't grow in very far before a given strand falls out, and his horns emerge from his skull at a 30 degree angle, then curve around and downward toward his scalp, the tip dangerously close to the skin. He wears a black t-shirt with a hood and his sign on the front in his blood colour, purple face paint very erratically smeared around his eyes, grey jeans with various purple things inserted into the pockets, and black shoes which also display his sign.

[i]Blood[/i]: Purple

[i]-Caste Powers[/i]: Fear-inducing chucklevoodoos, albeit modified by his own mutation. He may also have some low-level psychic abilities, mutant as they are.

[i]-Mutations[/i]: Firstly, Arestl's innate chucklevoodoos often turn back on himself in his sleep, leaving his dreams utterly fraught with terrifying imagery. Secondly, he is able to roughly sense when those around him have bad intentions; the worse that intent is, the further away and stronger it can be felt, and it is most potent when they specifically wish potentially fatal harm upon him. Since the great majority of trolls possess bad intent for their fellows at some point, especially in higher hemocastes, this is surprisingly unhelpful unless they specifically plan to murder him, in which case it's perfect for escaping before they arrive.

[i]Personality[/i]: Eight sweeps of being subjected to his mutations' effects in addition to Alternia's other hazards have left Arestl Idleon a paranoid mess. In his mind, [i]everything[/i] is out to get him, either literally or potentially, and if it's not, it just hasn't decided it's out to get him yet. [color=6c00da]he speaks- reathere halettiinnggly- but thEN YELLES WHEN HE FREAKS OUT-[/color]. He keeps large quantities of alcohol around for stress relief, but seems to never really drink any of it, worrying that it might just leave him vulnerable to getting attacked again. His dexterity and hand-eye coordination is superb, partly due to how fidgety he is, allowing him to recklessly twirl a quarterstaff as easily as climbing sheer surfaces, not to mention lending him ridiculous accuracy with his weapons; if he were less of a total wreck of a troll with little present interest in religious affairs who can barely keep himself in line, let alone others, he'd make a fine subjugglator. Indeed, his only truly trusted ally is his riverlizardbeast-esque lusus Fatherreddiille, and even that is semi-questionable in his mind; his total concern for his survival leads him to interact mostly with trolls of lower caste than himself, since if all else fails, he has the ability to just run from them until they die of old age.

[i]Title[/i]: Mage of Hope

[i]Planet[/i]: Land of Spirits and Spirits - Which is to say, a land of ghosts and high-proof alcohols. An unnerving parody of a planet-sized city, most structures are tall, glassy, and occupied by alcohol rather than floors. Most of the planet's liquid is alcoholic in nature, and even a patch of clear water could just be pure ethanol, whilst spooky spectres haunt between the narrow streets of each building, apparently either the consorts of the world or ghastly heralds of the same. Alas, the glass merely refracts clear images of nearby streets, making the entire place seem empty even when enemies are right around the corner.

[i]Strife Deck[/i]: Staffkind. This covers most forms of blunt-force poles or stave-based weaponry, most notably his trusty wooden quarterstaff.
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