→ OOC
□ Name: Joker
□ Age: 20s
□ Contact: AIM: jokerdesilva
□ Journal:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
justajoker
→ IC
□ Name: Greed the Avaricious
□ Series: Fullmetal Alchemist
□ Canon point: After his first death, boiled into nothingness by Father.
□ History: Greed’s history can be found here.
□ Personality: Greed’s name is exceptionally appropriate. He is, in fact, the living incarnation of Greed, the very emotion given life after being separated off from his creator. As such, he’s obsessed with possessions, with things that he can own and make his. This can be such blatant physical objects as money, clothes, or liquor, or far more intangible concepts. He craves friendship, underlings, women, and more than anything else, he wants freedom. His ambition can never be satisfied as the servant of his Father and his plans.
As such, he's definitely the "rebellious son" of the Homunculus family. Around a hundred years ago, he broke away from Father and the other Homunculi and set out on his own to pursue his own plans. His dream is to acquire true immortality, to no longer have to rely on the limited souls of the Philosopher's Stone that provide his regeneration and longevity. At the same time, he simply wants to acquire as much of anything as he can get his hands on. Ruling the world? Sounds good to him. He wants to be a king, the owner of jewels, a harem master, a revered figure, a feared enemy, anything possible. His greed knows no limits, and it will never be sated.
With this greedy attitude also comes a considerable amount of arrogance. He has quite the ego, not just wanting everything he can own, but believing that he deserves it. He's got a sharp tongue, a quick wit, and an almost ever-present wicked grin. Compared to some of the other Homunculi he's certainly more relaxed, and almost one of the most human when it comes to sheer attitude. He loves kicking back with a good bottle of wine, surrounded by gorgeous women [or men] and close friends. He also loves a good fight, getting to dust it up with a challenging opponent - it's not like, of course, anyone can actually beat him, now, can they? This overconfidence is often his own undoing, as he underestimates his opponents and sometimes just doesn't fight to the fullest of his abilities because he doesn't see the point. His vanity leads him to not use his Ultimate Shield to its greatest effect, and that has cost him a fight or two, leading to his ultimate undoing.
Of course, like anyone with greed running through them, ultimately, what Greed really wants are the things that he can’t really have. One of the things he’s truly seeking is true immortality. Though he holds the Philosopher’s Stone inside of him, the immortality it affords him is limited, used up with every soul that makes up the stone. If that runs out, so does he. He wants to be able to live forever, to be unceasing and eternal. Especially because, deep down, there is a part of him that’s afraid. He’s afraid of his past coming back to haunt him, his fellow Homunculi and their father coming to sink their claws into his back. He keeps running, moving, lurking in shadows and building up gangs in his pursuit of freedom, of safety, and a freedom for fear and mortality in particular.
But more than that, he wants the one thing he won’t really let himself have: bonds. Friendship. He claims to see people as nothing more than tools, he blusters about being self-reliant and self-sufficient, and calls himself a monster. Deep down, though, this is far from the truth, an act he puts on to protect himself as much as anything. He surrounds himself with chimera, the outcasts and the freaks of the world, taking them in and protecting them as much as using them. He is a collector, and he uses his monstrous strength as much to defend those with no one else to turn to and nowhere else to go as he does to seek other ends. The only reason he is so reluctant to admit his need for friendship is because he doesn’t want anyone to get hurt. If he admits how important his “minions” are, it will only hurt all the more when they’re taken away from him. And perhaps there is a part of him that feels, as a Homunculus, he doesn’t deserve them. That he is a monster, and a monster has no point having friends and comrades and brothers in arms.
Ultimately, while he would call himself a gangster and a monster and claim to be no better and no more human than the rest of the Homunculi, all of his actions and all of the evidence points to that being a lie. Not one on purpose, exactly, because he generally hates lying and deceit. But he simply believes himself to be one way, while often acting in contrary manners. He has a code of honor, however twisted, doesn’t like fighting women, doesn’t like picking on the weak who can’t defend themselves, and he will fight viciously and to the bitter end when those close to him, those important to him, are injured. Ask him to his face and he’d call his underlings disposable tools, but spill their blood, and he will come at you with everything he has. He’s a menacing figure, a monster, a gangster, a terrifying enemy, honest, straight-forward, and a relentless and shockingly reliable ally.
□ Age: Physically somewhere in his 30s, roughly. Chronologically about 200 years old. He’s an immortal, inhuman being, after all.
□ Gender: Male
□ Appearance: Greed stands an impressive height, somewhere north of 6’ but not too far, and has the well-muscled body to match, making him quite physically imposing. A few of his most striking physical features are his red eyes, his mouthful of sharp, shark-like teeth, and the bright red Ouroboros tattoo on the back of his left hand, marking him a Homunculus. He has swept back black hair and a high hairline, and a rather prominent nose. He tends to dress in a virtually painted on sleeveless black shirt, leather pants, and a fur-lined black leather vest, with thick black boots and a pair of round-lensed black sunglasses. In a pinch, he can take on a decidedly monstrous second form using his Ultimate Shield.
□ Abilities/Powers: As a Homunculus, Greed has a few tricks up his sleeve. First and most importantly, he’s made from the Philosopher’s Stone. This means that he is capable of dying multiple times and just getting up after it, healing nearly instantly. It isn’t limitless, and he can certainly permanently die, but I somehow doubt that will come up. As a personal trick, he can restructure the carbon molecules in his own body to form a nearly invincible coating called the Ultimate Shield. He primarily uses it on his hands, forming nearly indestructible clawed weapons, but can cover his entire body in the shield to gain a rather monstrous form. He doesn’t like to, though, because come on. Would you hide that perfect face?
□ Personal Items: Despite his greedy nature, Greed doesn't bring much with him. Just his clothes, his sunglasses, and his sparkling personality.
□ First Person Sample: [There's a slow, careful breath, the sound of a man trying desperately to keep his temper under control. This is the breath of a man who is trying very hard not to break something, be it an object around him or another person's jaw. This is the breath of a man who is very much not to be fucked with at the moment. Breathe in. Breath out. Keep yourself calm. Calm enough to speak.]
This is a warning to everyone out there.
[He stands. The sound of boots thudding against the floor, pacing, can be heard.]
I'm sure there's a lot of big time badasses out there who want to have some fun. And you know what? I don't give a shit. Do what you like. Just keep one thing in mind.
[Anyone who is used to spending time around Greed will find it startling the absence of good humor, arrogance, or frivolity in his voice. This is a rare moment of absolute seriousness, and there isn't a laugh or a joke waiting on the horizon.]
Don't. Fuck. With. What's. Mine. You hurt one of my people? And I will kick the ever-loving shit out of you. No questions asked. Then I'll break your neck while you're on the ground and kill your ass, if I have to.
This is your only warning. Don't push it.
[A slosh of liquid. A soft curse. The shattering explosion of glass hitting a wall and then hitting the floor. Then the line goes dead.]
□ Third Person Sample: Messages have drifted out throughout Ariel. They’ve been delivered as stealthily and cryptically as possible, but all of them point to the same end. The Lighthouse, tonight, late. Anyone cunning enough and anyone driven enough, he’s sure, will figure out the message, and he’s passed out feelers to everyone he can trust, with explicit instructions to keep it those that they can trust as well. Because he knows that what he’s doing is dangerous, and perhaps even foolish. He does not want to go back to re-education. He doesn’t want to be anyone’s puppet, anyone’s test dummy, anyone’s slave.
But a gilded cage is still a cage, and he’s tired of it.
Oh, sure, it was fun at first. Just being alive again, unburnt and intact, was enough to put a smile on his face. He was in a City full of anonymous faces, where no one knew him, no one knew his past and his “brothers” and “sisters” were nowhere to be found. There were gems to pilfer, fresh drinks to sample, and so many bodies willingly coming to him. So many people to play with, and the signal in his mind said to play to his heart’s content.
He had let Ariel fool him. He had lost himself in their game. But re-education, despite what they’d tried to do, hadn’t made him a more compliant subject. Oh, he’d promised not to be violent, not to disrupt order, swore that he’d go back and be a good boy and not make trouble. But they’d only broken his pride, not his spirit, pushed him to the point of begging and desperation but never, never kneeling like a dog. And when they’d sent him back out on the street, in the harsh light of day, he’d seen Ariel for what it really was. A prison. A cage. A City of walls and no escape, of tyrants with a smiling face, more sinister than Father had ever been.
Well, he had had his fun. It was time to change things. He’d turned his back on his family and risked his neck for freedom, for his own ends, and he wasn’t going to let these people, these humans, stop him. And more than that, he wasn’t the only one stuck. The only one abused, and manipulated, and fucked with. He had friends here. He had important people. Hiling. Silver. Dawn. A dozen more that he hadn’t met again yet, wasn’t sure were still here or still the same. And as much as he wanted his freedom, he wanted something else just as much, if not even more.
He wanted them safe. Secure.
And he wasn’t the only one who wanted out. That had always been obvious. Oh, there had been attempts at rebellion before, but those kinds of people were reckless, hot-headed, stupid. They had no idea how to play the game. They needed a leader. They needed someone cunning, and ruthless, and with the long game in mind. Someone who knew how to bide his time. And he had learned from the best. There was no one better at working in the shadows and twisting things to an end than the Homunculi.
“So,” he said as people started to filter in, flashing them a wide grin. It was do-or-die time. No turning back. No second guessing. But then, he never had been the type to second-guess himself. And do-or-die was a situation that he was very, very familiar with. “You want out of here? I’m the man to make it happen.”
□ Name: Joker
□ Age: 20s
□ Contact: AIM: jokerdesilva
□ Journal:
justajoker→ IC
□ Name: Greed the Avaricious
□ Series: Fullmetal Alchemist
□ Canon point: After his first death, boiled into nothingness by Father.
□ History: Greed’s history can be found here.
□ Personality: Greed’s name is exceptionally appropriate. He is, in fact, the living incarnation of Greed, the very emotion given life after being separated off from his creator. As such, he’s obsessed with possessions, with things that he can own and make his. This can be such blatant physical objects as money, clothes, or liquor, or far more intangible concepts. He craves friendship, underlings, women, and more than anything else, he wants freedom. His ambition can never be satisfied as the servant of his Father and his plans.
As such, he's definitely the "rebellious son" of the Homunculus family. Around a hundred years ago, he broke away from Father and the other Homunculi and set out on his own to pursue his own plans. His dream is to acquire true immortality, to no longer have to rely on the limited souls of the Philosopher's Stone that provide his regeneration and longevity. At the same time, he simply wants to acquire as much of anything as he can get his hands on. Ruling the world? Sounds good to him. He wants to be a king, the owner of jewels, a harem master, a revered figure, a feared enemy, anything possible. His greed knows no limits, and it will never be sated.
With this greedy attitude also comes a considerable amount of arrogance. He has quite the ego, not just wanting everything he can own, but believing that he deserves it. He's got a sharp tongue, a quick wit, and an almost ever-present wicked grin. Compared to some of the other Homunculi he's certainly more relaxed, and almost one of the most human when it comes to sheer attitude. He loves kicking back with a good bottle of wine, surrounded by gorgeous women [or men] and close friends. He also loves a good fight, getting to dust it up with a challenging opponent - it's not like, of course, anyone can actually beat him, now, can they? This overconfidence is often his own undoing, as he underestimates his opponents and sometimes just doesn't fight to the fullest of his abilities because he doesn't see the point. His vanity leads him to not use his Ultimate Shield to its greatest effect, and that has cost him a fight or two, leading to his ultimate undoing.
Of course, like anyone with greed running through them, ultimately, what Greed really wants are the things that he can’t really have. One of the things he’s truly seeking is true immortality. Though he holds the Philosopher’s Stone inside of him, the immortality it affords him is limited, used up with every soul that makes up the stone. If that runs out, so does he. He wants to be able to live forever, to be unceasing and eternal. Especially because, deep down, there is a part of him that’s afraid. He’s afraid of his past coming back to haunt him, his fellow Homunculi and their father coming to sink their claws into his back. He keeps running, moving, lurking in shadows and building up gangs in his pursuit of freedom, of safety, and a freedom for fear and mortality in particular.
But more than that, he wants the one thing he won’t really let himself have: bonds. Friendship. He claims to see people as nothing more than tools, he blusters about being self-reliant and self-sufficient, and calls himself a monster. Deep down, though, this is far from the truth, an act he puts on to protect himself as much as anything. He surrounds himself with chimera, the outcasts and the freaks of the world, taking them in and protecting them as much as using them. He is a collector, and he uses his monstrous strength as much to defend those with no one else to turn to and nowhere else to go as he does to seek other ends. The only reason he is so reluctant to admit his need for friendship is because he doesn’t want anyone to get hurt. If he admits how important his “minions” are, it will only hurt all the more when they’re taken away from him. And perhaps there is a part of him that feels, as a Homunculus, he doesn’t deserve them. That he is a monster, and a monster has no point having friends and comrades and brothers in arms.
Ultimately, while he would call himself a gangster and a monster and claim to be no better and no more human than the rest of the Homunculi, all of his actions and all of the evidence points to that being a lie. Not one on purpose, exactly, because he generally hates lying and deceit. But he simply believes himself to be one way, while often acting in contrary manners. He has a code of honor, however twisted, doesn’t like fighting women, doesn’t like picking on the weak who can’t defend themselves, and he will fight viciously and to the bitter end when those close to him, those important to him, are injured. Ask him to his face and he’d call his underlings disposable tools, but spill their blood, and he will come at you with everything he has. He’s a menacing figure, a monster, a gangster, a terrifying enemy, honest, straight-forward, and a relentless and shockingly reliable ally.
□ Age: Physically somewhere in his 30s, roughly. Chronologically about 200 years old. He’s an immortal, inhuman being, after all.
□ Gender: Male
□ Appearance: Greed stands an impressive height, somewhere north of 6’ but not too far, and has the well-muscled body to match, making him quite physically imposing. A few of his most striking physical features are his red eyes, his mouthful of sharp, shark-like teeth, and the bright red Ouroboros tattoo on the back of his left hand, marking him a Homunculus. He has swept back black hair and a high hairline, and a rather prominent nose. He tends to dress in a virtually painted on sleeveless black shirt, leather pants, and a fur-lined black leather vest, with thick black boots and a pair of round-lensed black sunglasses. In a pinch, he can take on a decidedly monstrous second form using his Ultimate Shield.
□ Abilities/Powers: As a Homunculus, Greed has a few tricks up his sleeve. First and most importantly, he’s made from the Philosopher’s Stone. This means that he is capable of dying multiple times and just getting up after it, healing nearly instantly. It isn’t limitless, and he can certainly permanently die, but I somehow doubt that will come up. As a personal trick, he can restructure the carbon molecules in his own body to form a nearly invincible coating called the Ultimate Shield. He primarily uses it on his hands, forming nearly indestructible clawed weapons, but can cover his entire body in the shield to gain a rather monstrous form. He doesn’t like to, though, because come on. Would you hide that perfect face?
□ Personal Items: Despite his greedy nature, Greed doesn't bring much with him. Just his clothes, his sunglasses, and his sparkling personality.
□ First Person Sample: [There's a slow, careful breath, the sound of a man trying desperately to keep his temper under control. This is the breath of a man who is trying very hard not to break something, be it an object around him or another person's jaw. This is the breath of a man who is very much not to be fucked with at the moment. Breathe in. Breath out. Keep yourself calm. Calm enough to speak.]
This is a warning to everyone out there.
[He stands. The sound of boots thudding against the floor, pacing, can be heard.]
I'm sure there's a lot of big time badasses out there who want to have some fun. And you know what? I don't give a shit. Do what you like. Just keep one thing in mind.
[Anyone who is used to spending time around Greed will find it startling the absence of good humor, arrogance, or frivolity in his voice. This is a rare moment of absolute seriousness, and there isn't a laugh or a joke waiting on the horizon.]
Don't. Fuck. With. What's. Mine. You hurt one of my people? And I will kick the ever-loving shit out of you. No questions asked. Then I'll break your neck while you're on the ground and kill your ass, if I have to.
This is your only warning. Don't push it.
[A slosh of liquid. A soft curse. The shattering explosion of glass hitting a wall and then hitting the floor. Then the line goes dead.]
□ Third Person Sample: Messages have drifted out throughout Ariel. They’ve been delivered as stealthily and cryptically as possible, but all of them point to the same end. The Lighthouse, tonight, late. Anyone cunning enough and anyone driven enough, he’s sure, will figure out the message, and he’s passed out feelers to everyone he can trust, with explicit instructions to keep it those that they can trust as well. Because he knows that what he’s doing is dangerous, and perhaps even foolish. He does not want to go back to re-education. He doesn’t want to be anyone’s puppet, anyone’s test dummy, anyone’s slave.
But a gilded cage is still a cage, and he’s tired of it.
Oh, sure, it was fun at first. Just being alive again, unburnt and intact, was enough to put a smile on his face. He was in a City full of anonymous faces, where no one knew him, no one knew his past and his “brothers” and “sisters” were nowhere to be found. There were gems to pilfer, fresh drinks to sample, and so many bodies willingly coming to him. So many people to play with, and the signal in his mind said to play to his heart’s content.
He had let Ariel fool him. He had lost himself in their game. But re-education, despite what they’d tried to do, hadn’t made him a more compliant subject. Oh, he’d promised not to be violent, not to disrupt order, swore that he’d go back and be a good boy and not make trouble. But they’d only broken his pride, not his spirit, pushed him to the point of begging and desperation but never, never kneeling like a dog. And when they’d sent him back out on the street, in the harsh light of day, he’d seen Ariel for what it really was. A prison. A cage. A City of walls and no escape, of tyrants with a smiling face, more sinister than Father had ever been.
Well, he had had his fun. It was time to change things. He’d turned his back on his family and risked his neck for freedom, for his own ends, and he wasn’t going to let these people, these humans, stop him. And more than that, he wasn’t the only one stuck. The only one abused, and manipulated, and fucked with. He had friends here. He had important people. Hiling. Silver. Dawn. A dozen more that he hadn’t met again yet, wasn’t sure were still here or still the same. And as much as he wanted his freedom, he wanted something else just as much, if not even more.
He wanted them safe. Secure.
And he wasn’t the only one who wanted out. That had always been obvious. Oh, there had been attempts at rebellion before, but those kinds of people were reckless, hot-headed, stupid. They had no idea how to play the game. They needed a leader. They needed someone cunning, and ruthless, and with the long game in mind. Someone who knew how to bide his time. And he had learned from the best. There was no one better at working in the shadows and twisting things to an end than the Homunculi.
“So,” he said as people started to filter in, flashing them a wide grin. It was do-or-die time. No turning back. No second guessing. But then, he never had been the type to second-guess himself. And do-or-die was a situation that he was very, very familiar with. “You want out of here? I’m the man to make it happen.”
