Your name is Nanaoh Iselia.
You are a jadeblood about seven sweeps old, which translates you think rougly to fifteen human years. You don’t have a hive because of a violent conflict that had erupted at the place of your wriggling soon after it, and spend most of your life travelling Alternia. You find the immunity to sun characteristic of your caste particularly useful for that purpose.
Your online friends usually do not believe that your lusus is a dragon, but it’s true. However, she is very small, albeit pretty, and feeds on insects. You’ve had to mostly fend for yourself to survive your wriggler years, and you consider yourself pretty tough.
Your online friends usually also do not believe tales of your numerous adventures with your trusty explosivekind specibus, involving hordes of daywalkers, hungry rainbow drinkers, violent highbloods, terrifying alternian wildlife, sandstorms and avalanches, but they are all true! You keep telling them nevertheless, as although your friends don’t believe you, you know they are still amused by your recounting, and that is gratifying by itself. You sometimes also come up with fictional stories, but you do not show those to anyone, mostly because you think telling fake stories alongside real ones will drop your already long-suffering credibility somewhere way below the deepest brooding caverns.
Your hobby is chemistry, with biology and geology of Alternia also feeding into it, as you have to find ingredients for your trusty explosives somewhere! You like to experiment, and you perhaps would not have survived to your age had you not had a mutant power of regeneration, which is coincidentally the only reason you still have hair, eyebrows, eyelashes and are not fully covered in scars.
(Your friends do not believe you about your power, either, which perhaps contributes to making your stories that much more unbelievable)
You also prefer to keep clawkind specibus on hand, just in case you are caught in close quarters. You are not a fan of blowing yourself up: even with regeneration, it hurts; besides, during exploration you usually keep enough explosives on yourself that if they detonate there won’t be anything to regenerate from.
You are notably short, which you consider an advantage as your opponents are that much more likely to underestimate you. For your size you are rather muscular, which is however not always visible as you are also fairly chubby.
Unlike most trolls, you consider yourself to be in posession of good fashion sense. Mostly it realizes itself through your love of color yellow, which you think goes really well with your unusually dark skin. You dye your hair yellow, use it in makeup instead of your bloodcaste green, and accessorize with it. You dye your horns yellow and green with non-toxic dye, which is an unusual practice for trolls and makes you rather memorable for those who’ve met you in person.
(In the wilds that you call your home, however, these encounters are rare and usually end with the death of one of the parties. Not you, so far.)
You also like to cut your own hair, usually without a mirror, then style the remains with excessive amounts of hair gel and say that’s how you intended it. Your lusus approves of anything you do, your online friends mostly just roll eyes at anything you do, and as already mentioned there aren’t many in-person social encounters in your life, so your fashion sense remains unchallenged.
Your bloodcaste symbol is a single flame, which you also think resembles a leaf since it’s green. You don’t like to display it anywhere, but you have a pendant with it tucked safely into one of your pockets at all times.
Your trolltag is temerariousRaconteur, and you tend to insert a lot! of seemingly random exclamation marks! into your sentences! their placement however! makes sense to you! and you don’t understand! why your friends don’t do the same!
You are currently comfortably tucked in a corner of a small cave you've decided will be your shelter for tonight. Your lusus, unlike you, is mostly nocturnal, which works out well for you as you carry her on your backpack by day and let her be your guard by night.
You aren't going to sleep yet, though. Your husktop is out, and your numerous contacts, both troll and human, are blinking with 'online' status in trollian.
Your own status is 'online' as well. You pause, considering who to contact. Perhaps someone will contact you first?
