(no subject)

[nestingdevil]

☞ Player Information;
Name: Tony
Player Journal: N/A
Age: 24
Contact:
AIM | backsideofthetv
E-Mail | reno[dot]cicilia[at]gmail[dot]com
Plurk | theavarice@plurk
Other characters currently played at Ryan's Gulch: N/A

☞ Character Information;
Character Name: Greed
Canon: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood
OU or AU?: OU
Canon point: End of Series, right after he is finally killed off by Father. He will not, however, be possessing Ling's body.

Setting: The world Greed hails from is stuck in the early 1900s; technology isn't entirely up to date, but that can be blamed entirely on the convenience of alchemy. War, territorial issues, and monopoly of power play in as a triple-threat to the world. Though most go oblivious of ill intentions until it's too late.

A lot of "truth" is shrouded by a gambler's game of politics. Even the homunculi, of which Greed is cut from, are a myth. Legend. They are known in text books, but that is about it.

There are rules, despite the rampant use of alchemy and there is order. But it is all a continuous game of power, leaving the masses completely cut off and ignorant while the small few are privy to what is really going on under the surface.

Central is probably the most up-to-date place; well built city with a deep underground. But Greed left over one hundred years ago to stretch his own legs, so it has changed a lot since he last kicked around its alleyways. His home pre-first death was Dublith; a little backwater town controlled by Central's laws, but left to do mostly as it pleases. Dust-coated cobblestone kind of place.

A good place to go under the radar for a while.

➥ Links
Amestris
Central
Dublith
The Devil's Nest


History: Here

Personality: Greed has the atmosphere of a person that just does not give a fuck, to put it frank. He wants it all - money, power, status, women, sex. To quote, "He wants the finer things in life." But despite his avarice, Greed has a very friendly-bordering-on-unsettling demeanor - all smiles that welcome each and every person into his arms. Well, for the most part anyway. He comes off very frank and he's not afraid to show people who he is. The attention he gets, the feeling he gets - that is what matters to him. Status doesn't just mean money and power (though as I said previously, those are important too) - people matter. What they think of him matters - how they act around him matters. Everything is a possession for Greed and that is how he lives his life.

He's a care free kind of guy, sends his anxiety to the wind kind of guy. But he'll be the first to claim someone if they're loyal and once he's done that, he's there for life. Or as long as said person lasts. Greed does things his own way and he has no intention of following orders or rules. He'll break them as soon as he gets that spark of want, need - which is to say, he'll be quick to turn tail from law and order at the drop of a hat.

If one happens to get on his bad side, he can be vicious. But he has no intention of harming "women and people with loved ones." He'll spare a foe if they turn around and walk the other way. But if they continue to threaten his things, he'll stop at nothing to bring said offender down. And he does it with class and style.

Greed is also vain - as vain as he can be. His "ultimate shield" comes with the price and that price is less elegance than he's comfortable with. When he first shows off his ace-in-the-hole to the elder Elric brother, he even states that his shield form "isn't flattering."

Seems Greed also has a soft spot for outcasts, as seen with his taking in of the chimera from Lab 5. God help the outcasts all right - and Greed is the very man to do so.


Abilities:
➥ ABILITIES Greed is "immortal." That doesn't mean he can't die exactly, because that was proven false over and over again in Brotherhood. But he has an amazing ability to regenerate. He also doesn't seem to age at all - at 200, he looks at the most in his mid-to-late twenties. He also possesses the Ultimate Shield ability - it's a shell over his skin made out of carbon and seems to be as hard as diamond ( not to be too cliche) - he seems to be able to harden on command, but sometimes the shield comes up involuntarily, as seen when he possesses Ling in his first fight with Wrath in the prince's body.
➥ SKILLS Greed's got some hand-to-hand combat skills, but he doesn't have any sort of "technique." He's good on the defense and fast on his feet. It doesn't look as if he had any formal training.
➥ TALENTS He's a great talker.

How did your character arrive in Rapture? The Teleportation plasmid's gone loco.

Why are you choosing to continue your character's development here from another RP? N/A

Network sample: [The feed starts out with the tremble of static, but that quickly clears with a boastful laugh. It's loud and low, rises in tone as it continues. Thankfully, all that clears up in a jiffy and the nameless mirth breaks to speech:]

Eh-? Lots of new faces this time around. [A quip of a whistle, a snap of the fingers.] Least this place never gets boring.

[There's a shift, a clink of glass against something. Then, the man is all but hissing into the feed. But he sounds friendly enough, if not a little pushy.] Well say. I'll offer you new ones this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Lay down your weary heads and have a drink on me. [Greed purrs into the other side of the line.] The Devil's Nest welcomes you to this little piece of Hell whether you got here on your own accord or not. It's a one time deal, but I'll be glad to entertain a few new faces.

[Thunk, thunk go a pair of boots.]

The name's Greed. And I'd like to make your acquaintance.

Log sample:

➥ Sample I: Taken from private musebox | fromthenest@livejournal

And the 'Nest was all a buzz - late nights always brought the worst of Dublith through the double-doors of the pit-end bar at the end of the alleyway. Dregs from all over were mingling, laughing, smoking, and drinking. A few shuffled around pool tables while others talked shop over cards and shuffled winnings between one another. Beady eyes watched the Colonel, but without his military blues he wasn't much to consider. Most turned back to their pleasures while a few women slipped between men, cautioned them to rooms locked deep inside the wooden-steel frame.

But the bar was alight with the usual(s) - a man with a blade at his hip, puffing away at a pipe. A taller gent with an old hand-me-down military jacket in olive. And of course, the bar tender. And he was on fire tonight, booze spinning between his fingers, rolling up his sides, being tossed right upside down to be poured out in lines of overflowing shots. He laughed as he worked, mouth alight with horrible teeth and eyes shaded in thick oval rings of glass. He cackled like he was possessed and he grabbed one of the liquor-soaked shots, throwing it back as his audience followed suit.

However, the Colonel did not go unnoticed. While the rest of the patrons joined in the drinking game, the homunculus turned stark-silver shades towards the man that had just unabashedly entered his bar. Greed hadn't seen him before which meant one thing - he wasn't from Dublith at all. The homunculus knew most - if not all - of the faces in the cute little town to the south. And this gem that just came waltzing in?

Certainly wasn't back-water country material.

"Oi, Dolcetto - help man the fort a second," Greed announced, his baritone drowning out the noise. A head popped up at the bar and the man with the pipe sighed. Snuffed his smoke out and hopped off his stool. But not without a second glance towards what Greed was eyeballing. He raised his thin brows at his boss, but said not a word. It wasn't a good idea to question Greed and there was really no stopping him once he set his eyes on a goal. Even Dolcetto knew that.

Which was, indeed, a wise choice. Because Greed had all the saunter and energy of a prize horse bolting out of the stables for the first time. Bounce in his step made easy of the length of floor between him and the Colonel. "You're new," the creature said plainly, placing two fingers to his chest. "Can't say I've seen a new face around these parts since - well." Cocked his head over his shoulder, leered through his soulless lenses. "A long time - boring story."

Greed bent at the hip and sent a hand to each side, like a mother scorning a very badly behaved child. "So what can I do for you, Stranger? You know, there are nicer bars up the street - we aren't exactly a five star establishment." But he wasn't shooing him away - no, Greed was baiting.

He just hoped this new face had an appetite.


➥ Sample II: Taken from aliunde_rpg@livejournal
The bar wasn't busy, not yet. But the lights were finally working and there was music blasting out of the jukebox at the far wall. The floors had been scrubbed down over the last few days - when Greed wasn't busy working the streets filling his own wants - and the last touches on the bar had been put into place. It wasn't completely done, not by a long shot, but Greed had used almost all of the free-cash allotted upon his arrival, so he made do. The doors would open in a few minutes and he was ready for the cash-out, no matter how much.
It would only be more the longer he stayed here - people loved to drink, people loved to dance, people loved to let loose. And Greed would provide, all for the right price. Sometimes, they would pay in cash - most normal folks paid in cash. Or they ran a tab and paid later. Others would pay in something else entirely and Greed didn't mind. He wanted it all, and sometimes that included currency other than cold-hard coin.

The homunculus spun a whiskey-shooter mix in one hand (he found that one in the junk yard out back) and a glass in the other. He rolled the glass up his palm, down his forearm, then back again like a yo-yo. The glass was caught in an open hand and he spun it up on the newly-polished bar top. The whiskey shooter twirled in his fingers and he lowered it to pour. Then he jerked it up, presenting a brilliant line of golden-orange liquid. It splashed and rolled across the open mouth of the glass.

The gang had taught him a few tricks back in the day and he had some of his own. But he was hungry for so much more. The red arrays on his shoulder, chest, and torso were thirsty and it wasn't for the drink he was pouring. Power - he craved his spark, despite how many new faces he met, how many interesting things he found. He needed his spark back.

In time, he hoped it would. It would be boring without it!

Greed pushed the glass forward and raised his eyes to the double doors. They still needed work, but the constant thudding and creaking of the bad hinges didn't bother him in the slightest. It just made him crave the noise of a crowd having a good time, of the young folks mingling and laughing while they got half-cocked to next week, of old men whispering old stories with smoke billowing from their mouths, with the middle-aged men talking of success and glory while they wrung out their wallets on a gamble or two - Greed wanted it and his eyes grew wide with that desire. His fingers scratched at the bar top and his chest expanded.

"Give it to me." His voice screamed in his skull, rattled all through bones. He licked his lip, cut his tongue on sharp teeth, and swallowed the blood down into his hot core. It was hot, burning, but the heat stayed there. Greed grabbed the whiskey-shooter and threw it back in one gulp before slamming it down. Another, barkeep! He heard it in his head, but craved for someone to actually say it. Another. Another, and another, and another ....

Greed stepped away from behind the counter and shuffled to the door. His smile was wild and fascinated. He gripped the two-by-four that was only barely holding the door closed and ripped it from the flimsy metal fasteners he had fashioned to the frame last night. The wooden plank toppled over his head and crashed onto the floor. As if to announce his accomplishment, the jukebox crackled out a few lyrics Greed hadn't heard before.

He tapped his foot to the tune and shoved a hand on each door. He pushed them open and air tossed the fur cuff of his vest. Late afternoon was just settling it - he could feel it in his bones. He laughed and cast his arms to each side in a brilliant gesture.

The Devil's Nest groaned as its master's laughter filled its vacant halls. It seemed to say: Have a seat, have a drink - pay your tab to the Devil and he'll be sure to return the favor.