Soreim Listor

[Lyro]

Name: Soreim Listor


Species: Troll


Age: 7.2 sweeps


Height: 5' 9" (175 cm)


Web: 120 lb


Gender/Pronouns: Agender, doesn't care which pronouns are used, though leans more towards "he" when roleplaying as the Antlerknight


Color: #000056


Handle: waveringLight [WL]


Modus: Library - Inserted items are attributed a reference number reflecting its category and creator. A reference card is printed out upon insertion, which must be used for retrieval.
Captchalogued reference cards are identified by a master reference card which cannot be captchalogued. 


Moon: Prospit - Currenly sleeping.


Abstrata: Penkind


Title: 
[SIZE=100%]Rogue of Life[/SIZE]


Mental Status: Lightly Seared on the Reality Grill


Fashion Sense: Perplexing

Your name is SOREIM LISTOR. You think you are about 7 SWEEPS OLD - you're not really sure, you tend to forget your birthday. You are far too busy to worry about that anyway, as you've made it your mission to READ every book in your EXTENSIVE LIBRARY. This wouldn't take up so much time if you were a bit more organized, but you are VERY EASILY DISTRACTED, and you keep losing your page. But that's alright, there's no rush. It's actually pretty funny, when you think about it.
​

In fact, you think a lot of things are FUNNY. You think people should LAUGH more often, like you do. You always seem to find something to laugh about, even in the most tragic of circumstances. You've been told this can be INAPPROPRIATE, which you find hilarious, because what's wrong with always being HAPPY? Your friends really need to chill out, sometimes, preferably over a nice, friendly GAME.
​

You love to play games - any type of game, any time, anywhere. You once went five consecutive days without sleeping to finish a particularly long match. It seems to be the only thing that can get you FOCUSED for any extended period of time. You never feel very COMPETITIVE, though - whether you lose or you win doesn't matter, it's the game itself you enjoy. There's another reason you like playing games, though: it's the only time you feel reasonably sane.
​

You're fairly certain you're a wee bit INSANE - at least, that's what some of your friends seem to think. Personally, if it's true, you think it's pretty droll, but you think it's making it a bit difficult to maintain friendships. At least, when you play games, you feel a bit more in control of your mind, and that makes you happy.
​

What else? Oh, you're an indigo blood, not that you think it really matters. You've been beat up a few times by some higher bloods when you were younger, but it was all in good fun. You don't think you have any special psychic powers, though you've noticed a few odd things happening when you find something particularly funny. You're probably overthinking it, though.
​

You like to use Trollian to communicate with your friends; your trolltag is waveringLight. you tend to speak without traditional punctuation/capitalization -> scrambled thoughts + changes topic on a whim* => a sort of stream of consciousness[*](you always come back to an interrupted topic eventually)
​

 

[Lyro]

Soreim's Hive


Building a hive was one of Soreim's most formative experiences. There was much to learn - physics to ensure the stability of his new home, drawing in order to effectively communicate their vision to their carpenter droids, and programming, when the droids had to be reconfigured to accept slightly more liberal views on what is architecturally acceptable. The result is impressively frightening in its defiance of the laws of physics, and the additions made over the years have only added to the effect.


The hive is situated at the far edge of the lake beneath Japhos's hive, placing them within walking distance of each other. From on high, one might mistake it for a particularly massive and gnarled tree. A closer inspection does little to dispel this initial impression, as the hive is a twisting and turning construction that looks almost organic in its architecture. A collection of boxes of various shapes, sizes and materials, from wood to metal to fur (in one short-lived instance), all disjointedly linked together by rickety stairs, rotten wood supports and smaller boxes, Soreim's hive almost always looks on the verge of collapse, leaning at a dangerous incline over the lake it borders. And yet, while some rooms might occasionally break free and sink to a watery grave, the hive has weathered all manner of cataclysms, from violent tempests to sleepwalking Soreims.


The biggest room in Soreim's hive is of course their library. Though not nearly as impressive as many of the high bloods', it is nonetheless an impressive literary collection, in volume if not in presentation. Indeed, despite their best efforts, all of Soreim's attempts at organizing their collection have resulted in increasingly chaotic piles of books spread throughout the hive, reducing the "library" room to a library in name only, albeit one with more book piles than any other room in Soreim's hive.


The very top of the hive, at 23 meters of altitude relative to the ground, is home to Soreim's lusus, an ancient StareBird specimen living in a nest built out of the fragments of Soreim's derelict rooms. The two creatures rarely interact with each other; indeed, Soreim hasn't even provided it with a name, though they keep intending to. Though they have trouble admitting it to themselves, the StareBird is one of the few things that genuinely disturbs Soreim, and so Soreim sees no need to upset what they perceive as a mutually beneficial agreement.


Finally, the last part of Soreim's hive is the oldest and, consequently, most stable part. Located mostly underground, it is almost entirely made out of stone and consists of a great spiraling stairway leading to various small rooms carved in the bedrock. The greatest room of all is also the deepest, and was originally intended by Soreim to be their lusus's resting place; birds, it turns out, do not take well to cramped underground caverns. In its lieu, Soreim has installed their massive, antiquated computational device, which they use reluctantly on account of its unsavory personality.