You stand in a forgotten fold of PARADOX SPACE, perhaps intentionally laid by the NOBLE HORRORTERRORS in honor of a long serving servant. You once had a name, but that name melted away under the weight and pressure of a title thrust upon you when your ideas grew past your small circle of associated trolls, and grew into a TRUE REBELLION. You are called THE BOHEMIAN due to your rejection of your status as a matron for your species, and for many of your other free-spirited notions and proclivities. You lead, or rather, led, a ragtag crew of guerilla fighters that won several shocking victories against the forces of THE DUPLICITOUS SOVEREIGN who held your version of Alternia in her cruel fist for time immemorial. It is likely she still holds your beloved home in that same grip with the help of your heart, thought to be the origin of your unnatural connection to creatures beyond mortal ken, including even THE IMPERIAL LUSUS. You were once fond of DANCING, SINGING, and UNREPENTANT QUADRANT SMEARING, though now that you have been reduced to little more than a shade lingering in a forgotten pocket of paradox space, that last one seems unlikely to be a fulfilling pasttime anymore. Your trolltag is trillingThrene and you tend to Mysapropriate archaic words and stylyngs to Exaggerate your distance from the Trolls of the Future.
