Post by Linden H. Mouche on Oct 16, 2019 23:11:35 GMT -5
Linden H. Mouche
" News, News, News, News, News has a, has a, has a, kind of mystery, of mystery"
 | Age 39 Gender Male Faction Civilian Tier Beginner Face Claim Ronny Schiatto, Baccano! OOC Name Jay |
Character Traits
Date of Birth: March 12th, 14 BV
Species: Faunus (Housefly)
Hometown: Atlas
Romantic Orientation: Whatever brings in the ratings
Hair Color/Style: Slicked back, cut short, and underneath all the gel, it's a nice shade of raw sienna brown.
Eye Color: Red
Aura Color: Sleazy lime green
Height: 175 cm / 5'9"
Weight: 75 kg / 165 lb
Appearance: Mouche isn't an especially imposing figure, in spite of his sharp facial features. He's not very tall, with a slight build, his small bits of belly pudge well hidden by exquisitely tailored suits with tight vests. His appearance is immaculate, well-kept, but something about it strikes others as artificial- maybe it's the ridiculous amounts of greasy hair gel, maybe it's his way-too-white, way-too-enthusiastic grin, or the carefully-filled-in eyebrows. He doesn't feel like a real person, more like a pastiche of one, but that's all very much put-on, though intentional may not be the right word for it. Hell, who even knows if his hair isn't dyed? His most prominent feature, aside from his signature predatory smirk, would have to be his eyes- from a distance, they look rather normal, but up close, one can see that the whites of his eyes are a well-designed contact lens, and the red irises are the only real part of his eyes shown. That's because, like a fly's eyes, his are compound, made up of many tiny visual receptors. Unlike a fly, however, he is still able to move his eyes, giving him a normal human range of vision. Also, much like a fly, nobody really wants to listen to him- his voice is naturally a bit tinny and annoying, and the only reason anyone really tunes in to his show is to see what crazy shit he has to say next. He's got a bit of an Atlas City accent, specifically from a neighborhood famous for its mobster movies.
Character Overview
Who really knows where Linden H. Mouche came from? And who gives a fuck, am I right? Presumably, his parents raised him in Mantle, before the Great War, and he most likely came from an aristocratic background. Not that he's ever kept any facet of his childhood consistent- the man's a compulsive liar. At least his birth certificate checks out, and anyone who did enough research would find that he never really struggled for money growing up. But, all good things must come to an end- he skipped out of the Great War because his parents paid off the conscription office, and ended up going to a ritzy private school for journalism. Even managed to graduate, in spite of quite a few scandals involving faked articles and journalistic slander.
Somehow, some way, he ended up travelling Remnant with a well-paid security detail, gobbling up all of the tastiest, dirtiest, dirt on those involved in the war, which had ended several years back. Many newsmen of the time were eager to capture the real stories and cut through the bullshit to find out what had really happened, and why. Not Mouche- he was out for one thing, and only one thing; the hottest, cheapest, scoop. Turns out, in a world where nobody knew much about the goings-on of other kingdoms aside from what was reported, his voice became very popular, despite the fact that half of what he said was a bunch of bullshit, and the other half corroborated it. He had a silver tongue, and it flickered sharply when he needed it to- always twisting words and working meticulously to spin the truth into a story worth paying for. Advertisers loved him; fans couldn't get enough of him. He thrived on the hate mail and the angry, salty, reviews. He was a sensational hit. or maybe just a sensationalist hit?
Whatever he was, it was working. He was making big waves, and big bucks, but as things settled down, so did he. Sure, human-faunus tensions were boiling up, but who cared about that? He was human-passing anyways. Not wanting to actually fucking die, he kept his nose out of that sticky business, and instead took up a cushy position at Sanctum Academy in Mistral, teaching a few communications classes, and running the Sanctum Academy News Team for a few years, before he was unceremoniously sacked. He claimed it was "An Unfair Firing Decision, Made by an Incompetent Moron Afraid of the Truth."
Sanctum Academy's headmaster saw it more as "Loud-mouth Lying Journalist Fired for Embezzling Funds from the News Club."
Whatever.
He was an artist scorned by many, and he had no time for the hate. The Faunus War was kicking into full swing, and he was getting bored of teaching anyways. Looking for a little excitement, he reported on both sides of the war, sometimes in favor of faunus rights, sometimes loudly insisting that they should all be sent to Menagerie, where they belonged.
His parents were obviously quite proud of the little shit. Totally.
Of course, when that conflict ended, he just kept on sticking to whatever side brewed up the most controversy, but eventually, people stopped caring about the plight of the faunus. And if the people wanted to be entertained, he would entertain them. For cold, hard, cash, of course. Briefly, he ran for a spot on Mistral's council, on a platform of utterly ridiculous shit, like promising to take back the Atlesian dust mines, and to institute new laws to regulate Huntsman activities- those wily fuckers with their magic powers were way too fucking unregulated, it was dangerous. What if the Semblance-havers decided to gang up and take over Remnant? OH YEAH. THEY DID. He ended up losing the election, but only by a very sad few percents of a vote. Faith in humanity was challenged that day. He then gave up politics, and decided to return to what he did best- tabloid journalism. Publishing the "Fly on the Wall," a newsletter with an accompanying video streaming service, he took to the streets and set about trying to find even bigger, juicier stories. Literally, whatever dumb gossip would get the fucking sheeple excited about the news again. If it stirred up drama, he was there.
Then The Fall happened, and where many saw a horrific tragedy, Mouche saw massive, fat stacks of cash. He wrote scathing critiques of the safety protocols for air ships, he flamed Haven Academy for carelessness, he even went so far as to declare it an international conspiracy- nobody died in The Fall, after all. They were just sent away to a top secret facility in Atlas, producing supersoldiers created by blending genetics from perfect candidates with powerful semblances.
Most people ignored his shitty stories, but he found an audience with the conspiracy theorists, and they were eating that shit up like hot cakes. Nowadays, he's still on the prowl for a story, and oh, would you look at that... two Mistral Regional Tournament Champions at this year's Vytal festival? And participants in the recent Argus Limited near-fiasco? Oh, this should be good... This should be really good...
Extra
Linden: A shade of green.
H: H is for H
Mouche: French for "Housefly." I am v creative with faunus names. :wesmart:
Species: Faunus (Housefly)
Hometown: Atlas
Romantic Orientation: Whatever brings in the ratings
Hair Color/Style: Slicked back, cut short, and underneath all the gel, it's a nice shade of raw sienna brown.
Eye Color: Red
Aura Color: Sleazy lime green
Height: 175 cm / 5'9"
Weight: 75 kg / 165 lb
Appearance: Mouche isn't an especially imposing figure, in spite of his sharp facial features. He's not very tall, with a slight build, his small bits of belly pudge well hidden by exquisitely tailored suits with tight vests. His appearance is immaculate, well-kept, but something about it strikes others as artificial- maybe it's the ridiculous amounts of greasy hair gel, maybe it's his way-too-white, way-too-enthusiastic grin, or the carefully-filled-in eyebrows. He doesn't feel like a real person, more like a pastiche of one, but that's all very much put-on, though intentional may not be the right word for it. Hell, who even knows if his hair isn't dyed? His most prominent feature, aside from his signature predatory smirk, would have to be his eyes- from a distance, they look rather normal, but up close, one can see that the whites of his eyes are a well-designed contact lens, and the red irises are the only real part of his eyes shown. That's because, like a fly's eyes, his are compound, made up of many tiny visual receptors. Unlike a fly, however, he is still able to move his eyes, giving him a normal human range of vision. Also, much like a fly, nobody really wants to listen to him- his voice is naturally a bit tinny and annoying, and the only reason anyone really tunes in to his show is to see what crazy shit he has to say next. He's got a bit of an Atlas City accent, specifically from a neighborhood famous for its mobster movies.
Character Overview
Who really knows where Linden H. Mouche came from? And who gives a fuck, am I right? Presumably, his parents raised him in Mantle, before the Great War, and he most likely came from an aristocratic background. Not that he's ever kept any facet of his childhood consistent- the man's a compulsive liar. At least his birth certificate checks out, and anyone who did enough research would find that he never really struggled for money growing up. But, all good things must come to an end- he skipped out of the Great War because his parents paid off the conscription office, and ended up going to a ritzy private school for journalism. Even managed to graduate, in spite of quite a few scandals involving faked articles and journalistic slander.
Somehow, some way, he ended up travelling Remnant with a well-paid security detail, gobbling up all of the tastiest, dirtiest, dirt on those involved in the war, which had ended several years back. Many newsmen of the time were eager to capture the real stories and cut through the bullshit to find out what had really happened, and why. Not Mouche- he was out for one thing, and only one thing; the hottest, cheapest, scoop. Turns out, in a world where nobody knew much about the goings-on of other kingdoms aside from what was reported, his voice became very popular, despite the fact that half of what he said was a bunch of bullshit, and the other half corroborated it. He had a silver tongue, and it flickered sharply when he needed it to- always twisting words and working meticulously to spin the truth into a story worth paying for. Advertisers loved him; fans couldn't get enough of him. He thrived on the hate mail and the angry, salty, reviews. He was a sensational hit. or maybe just a sensationalist hit?
Whatever he was, it was working. He was making big waves, and big bucks, but as things settled down, so did he. Sure, human-faunus tensions were boiling up, but who cared about that? He was human-passing anyways. Not wanting to actually fucking die, he kept his nose out of that sticky business, and instead took up a cushy position at Sanctum Academy in Mistral, teaching a few communications classes, and running the Sanctum Academy News Team for a few years, before he was unceremoniously sacked. He claimed it was "An Unfair Firing Decision, Made by an Incompetent Moron Afraid of the Truth."
Sanctum Academy's headmaster saw it more as "Loud-mouth Lying Journalist Fired for Embezzling Funds from the News Club."
Whatever.
He was an artist scorned by many, and he had no time for the hate. The Faunus War was kicking into full swing, and he was getting bored of teaching anyways. Looking for a little excitement, he reported on both sides of the war, sometimes in favor of faunus rights, sometimes loudly insisting that they should all be sent to Menagerie, where they belonged.
His parents were obviously quite proud of the little shit. Totally.
Of course, when that conflict ended, he just kept on sticking to whatever side brewed up the most controversy, but eventually, people stopped caring about the plight of the faunus. And if the people wanted to be entertained, he would entertain them. For cold, hard, cash, of course. Briefly, he ran for a spot on Mistral's council, on a platform of utterly ridiculous shit, like promising to take back the Atlesian dust mines, and to institute new laws to regulate Huntsman activities- those wily fuckers with their magic powers were way too fucking unregulated, it was dangerous. What if the Semblance-havers decided to gang up and take over Remnant? OH YEAH. THEY DID. He ended up losing the election, but only by a very sad few percents of a vote. Faith in humanity was challenged that day. He then gave up politics, and decided to return to what he did best- tabloid journalism. Publishing the "Fly on the Wall," a newsletter with an accompanying video streaming service, he took to the streets and set about trying to find even bigger, juicier stories. Literally, whatever dumb gossip would get the fucking sheeple excited about the news again. If it stirred up drama, he was there.
Then The Fall happened, and where many saw a horrific tragedy, Mouche saw massive, fat stacks of cash. He wrote scathing critiques of the safety protocols for air ships, he flamed Haven Academy for carelessness, he even went so far as to declare it an international conspiracy- nobody died in The Fall, after all. They were just sent away to a top secret facility in Atlas, producing supersoldiers created by blending genetics from perfect candidates with powerful semblances.
Most people ignored his shitty stories, but he found an audience with the conspiracy theorists, and they were eating that shit up like hot cakes. Nowadays, he's still on the prowl for a story, and oh, would you look at that... two Mistral Regional Tournament Champions at this year's Vytal festival? And participants in the recent Argus Limited near-fiasco? Oh, this should be good... This should be really good...
Extra
Linden: A shade of green.
H: H is for H
Mouche: French for "Housefly." I am v creative with faunus names. :wesmart:
