Post by Friend on Jan 23, 2019 15:03:25 GMT
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There’s something unnatural about this man. Maybe it’s the pasty pale skin, or the dry, cracking calluses at his fingers. Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t seem to move, other than deliberate motions - no twitching, no unnecessary movements. Maybe it’s the smell - akin to disinfectant alcohol or formaldehyde, something chemical and unnatural and medical, that clings to his flesh. Maybe it’s the fact that you never see him blink or show anything but a cold, evil smile.
In any case, Friend, as he likes to call himself, is a freak of nature. Lanky to the point of sickliness, and yet vicious as a snake, the man paints a skeletal figure with how spindly he appears: his straw blonde hair and reddened blue eyes (or eye, anyway, since he’s missing that other one), have this corpse-like quality to them, like they’re used and have stopped working properly. And his posture has something of an animal ready to strike, though he also appears to be relaxed in a backwards lean.
Friend wears very casual clothes that look about as unclean as him, usually a button up red shirt with a wifebeater under, and some comfortable pants: jeans or suit. But if you were to remove this, you would see a body with the skin pulled back over thin sheets of wiry muscle, poking ribs, and a visible spine. What’s more, almost all of his body is covered in either burns, scars, or bullet holes - both new and old. In a way, Friend really IS a grim portrait of death.
As far as we know, Friend is a misanthropic psychopath. Maybe he was already about to explode before the incident, or maybe it’s that bullet that supposedly took his left eye and that was never removed from his brain, but he IS a sociopathic asshole with a twisted sense of humor that finds enjoyment in the suffering of others. What little we learned from the few videos that have been released to the public teaches us that this is a man who enjoys chaos, destruction, and mayhem. If something explodes and panic happens, then Friend is in his element. A very smart individual, he’s embraced some twisted philosophy of life where he desires to follow his desires, and preaches for people to do the same: a hatred for people who lie to themselves and who live somebody else’s life pushes him to try and “train” them, or force them out of their comfort zone.
There’s a manic energy behind his actions, a lack of fear of pain or death when he pushes into enemy territory. In a way, this berserker attitude makes him scarier: after all, someone who can take buckshot in the stomach and not even flinch in pain as he rushes you is one of the most terrifying things one can see. There are no real allies to speak of that he can call to: there are people he finds interesting (either because they embody their ideals, or because they deny it) and people who bore him. And usually, the boring people tend to not last long.
The first time he made the news was a few years ago, in one of Vale’s few posting offices. He was an employee, back then, a no name schmuck with no story and no desire to share it, that just did his job and probably couldn’t have been trusted with anything more complicated than manual labor. He kept to himself, didn’t talk much, seemed somewhat robotic. In many ways he was showing many hints of a nervous breakdown, so it’s no wonder he snapped and went postal. One day he walked in with a sawed off shotgun, a machine pistol, and enough ammunition to start and end a small civil war, and he downed everybody he could see, going floor to floor in an efficient manner. The few survivors saw that he was smiling for the first time since he’d first started working here.
People thought he’d be done when he walked out of the office and he was downed by the authorities: thirteen bullets pierced right through him, and he fell down to the ground. Imagine the panic the following day when his body bag was empty at the morgue, and the coroner assigned to his autopsy was found dead on the ground with a scalpel in the neck, as he had just finished removing the remnants of a ruined left eye and removing the bullets.
Friend, as he’s come to be called over the last few months, has been active ever since. His evil charisma’s been taking people by surprise, and he managed to get himself a somewhat devoted following: with videotapes of himself owing up to suicide bombings (have no fear, or do: it wasn’t him with the bomb in the stomach), or recordings of acts of terrorism and violent overtakings of gang territories, along with ransom videos regarding kidnapped officials and the like, the man who calls himself “your buddy” has definitely been busy. We don’t really know where he’s going with all of this: whether he has ulterior motives or just wants to burn the world to cinders for his own amusement is up to debate, but nobody can say that he’s just an inoffensive freak when he’s this devoted to mayhem.
"FRIEND"
Character Application
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Appearance
There’s something unnatural about this man. Maybe it’s the pasty pale skin, or the dry, cracking calluses at his fingers. Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t seem to move, other than deliberate motions - no twitching, no unnecessary movements. Maybe it’s the smell - akin to disinfectant alcohol or formaldehyde, something chemical and unnatural and medical, that clings to his flesh. Maybe it’s the fact that you never see him blink or show anything but a cold, evil smile.
In any case, Friend, as he likes to call himself, is a freak of nature. Lanky to the point of sickliness, and yet vicious as a snake, the man paints a skeletal figure with how spindly he appears: his straw blonde hair and reddened blue eyes (or eye, anyway, since he’s missing that other one), have this corpse-like quality to them, like they’re used and have stopped working properly. And his posture has something of an animal ready to strike, though he also appears to be relaxed in a backwards lean.
Friend wears very casual clothes that look about as unclean as him, usually a button up red shirt with a wifebeater under, and some comfortable pants: jeans or suit. But if you were to remove this, you would see a body with the skin pulled back over thin sheets of wiry muscle, poking ribs, and a visible spine. What’s more, almost all of his body is covered in either burns, scars, or bullet holes - both new and old. In a way, Friend really IS a grim portrait of death.
Personality
As far as we know, Friend is a misanthropic psychopath. Maybe he was already about to explode before the incident, or maybe it’s that bullet that supposedly took his left eye and that was never removed from his brain, but he IS a sociopathic asshole with a twisted sense of humor that finds enjoyment in the suffering of others. What little we learned from the few videos that have been released to the public teaches us that this is a man who enjoys chaos, destruction, and mayhem. If something explodes and panic happens, then Friend is in his element. A very smart individual, he’s embraced some twisted philosophy of life where he desires to follow his desires, and preaches for people to do the same: a hatred for people who lie to themselves and who live somebody else’s life pushes him to try and “train” them, or force them out of their comfort zone.
There’s a manic energy behind his actions, a lack of fear of pain or death when he pushes into enemy territory. In a way, this berserker attitude makes him scarier: after all, someone who can take buckshot in the stomach and not even flinch in pain as he rushes you is one of the most terrifying things one can see. There are no real allies to speak of that he can call to: there are people he finds interesting (either because they embody their ideals, or because they deny it) and people who bore him. And usually, the boring people tend to not last long.
History
The first time he made the news was a few years ago, in one of Vale’s few posting offices. He was an employee, back then, a no name schmuck with no story and no desire to share it, that just did his job and probably couldn’t have been trusted with anything more complicated than manual labor. He kept to himself, didn’t talk much, seemed somewhat robotic. In many ways he was showing many hints of a nervous breakdown, so it’s no wonder he snapped and went postal. One day he walked in with a sawed off shotgun, a machine pistol, and enough ammunition to start and end a small civil war, and he downed everybody he could see, going floor to floor in an efficient manner. The few survivors saw that he was smiling for the first time since he’d first started working here.
People thought he’d be done when he walked out of the office and he was downed by the authorities: thirteen bullets pierced right through him, and he fell down to the ground. Imagine the panic the following day when his body bag was empty at the morgue, and the coroner assigned to his autopsy was found dead on the ground with a scalpel in the neck, as he had just finished removing the remnants of a ruined left eye and removing the bullets.
Friend, as he’s come to be called over the last few months, has been active ever since. His evil charisma’s been taking people by surprise, and he managed to get himself a somewhat devoted following: with videotapes of himself owing up to suicide bombings (have no fear, or do: it wasn’t him with the bomb in the stomach), or recordings of acts of terrorism and violent overtakings of gang territories, along with ransom videos regarding kidnapped officials and the like, the man who calls himself “your buddy” has definitely been busy. We don’t really know where he’s going with all of this: whether he has ulterior motives or just wants to burn the world to cinders for his own amusement is up to debate, but nobody can say that he’s just an inoffensive freak when he’s this devoted to mayhem.
Faceclaim
Original Artworkfrom Me Myself and I
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