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Garrete Laguigne

A Machinist from Muspell, walking the glass road of deceit and double-crossing.

0 · 256 views · located in New Exodia

a character in “New Exodia: A City Divided”, as played by flickery

Description

Title: None
Clan: None.
Faction: |Past| Ragnarok Inc. |Present| Muspell Industries.
Race: Werewolf
Apparent Race: Human
Relatives: Unknown/Missing


•Father | ???| Missing
•Mother | ??? | Missing


According to Hospital records:
Age: 27
Date of Birth: March 25th
Astrological Sign: Aries

Hair: Brown-Gray
Eyes: Brown
Skin color: Olive
Height: 6' 3"
Weight: 210 lbs.


From first glance, anyone can tell that Garrete is from Muspell. From the dust speckled hair to the soot smeared fingers to the worn lether boots. Calloused hands and unshaved chin, no Niflite would be caught dead wearing that tunic-shirt thing. Oh how little they know.~

Garrete Laguigne stands above average for a human, at 6' 3" though he slouches, he makes up for his height with a prime physique that is noticable even under all those layers. Thick heavyset arms and large hands attached by strong shoulders to a powerpacked torso, yet he hides it under coat and shirts. A thin braid of hair hangs over his left fringe, bearing a small traditional charm-bead. The rest is left alone, letting it grow whichever what way it wants. His beard runs short and trimmed along the squarish jawline, almost touching the diagonal scar that runs down his left eye. "An accident with the razors." So he says.

There are hints of the well-formed features common amongst the health concious citizens of Nifl but years of Muspell living has roughened over these details.

Personality

Amicable.
Tempered. Steady.
Witted. Forthright.
Goal Oriented. Strong willed.
In control. Reactive.
Semi-capable liar.
Yet sometimes shows uncharacteristic bouts of eccentric and impulsive behaviour.

Equipment

Head: None (not including braid)
Neck: None
Arms: Medicated Bandages
Arms (Hidden): Holster
Torso: Leather Long Waist Coat (Pale Indigo), Tunic
Torso (Hidden): Bulletproof Vest
Hands: Foreman's gloves/Tipless denim gloves
Waist: Workman's Belt (small compartments for nails and likes), less obvious
Legs: Slacks
Feet: Steel-tipped boots

Common Weapons (not always carried around):
Loaded Semi-automatic Pistol (fragmentation rounds)
Throwing knife (with capacitor attached) (Always carried)
Palm flashbang
Aero-Gel Tablets (slows momentum, carries three)
Universally Adaptable Sniping scope with night vision
Proto-aether Compass (invented, one of it's kind, points to psychic phenomenon nearby. Always carried)

Uncommon Weapons (rarely carried around):
Miniaturized EMP Grenades
Enforcer Gloves (micro-servos enhance user's grip and hand strength twenty-fold)
Charm of Be'zlebub (ensorceled cyborg fly that serves as minion when activated, cannot enter churches, unusually strong)
Anything else he makes.



Abilities:

Wereborn Strength: Garrete possess inhuman strength and durability, allowing him to perform feats most atheletes only dream of. At a price of causing fatigue or worse, involuntary shapechanging.
Keen Ears: Sharper sense of hearing than most people, works best in quiet environments.
Morphic Body: Under duress or certain times, Garrete's body undergoes spontaneous mutation into the form known as the werewolf. Grants a slight healing factor, greatly increased physical strength and toughness but higher mental functions are overidden by adrenaline and depressed-psychotic rage.


Disabilities:

Abnormal Metabolism: In order to keep functioning, Garrete has to sleep at least 10 hours a day. Eat 6 meals and cannot stand too long in the sun or he will overheat and get a stroke.
Sensitive Ears: Hears a wider range of frequencies and in much more volume than most people, can be disoriented by particularly loud noises. Counteracted by earplugs, reducing it to normal.
Compromised Immune System: When Garrete gets sick, he gets really sick. The result of having a morphic physiology means slower immune adaptiveness, even worse for those with allergies. At least, he's fine with silver.


Skills:

Iron Will: A side effect from having a split-personality that threatens to erupt at any moment to tear everything to pieces, Garrete is incredibly resistant to mental compulsions, illusions and pain. His mental fortitude is already tested to the limit on a day to day basis.
Renaissance Man: He's the Go-To guy on everything mechanical, chemical and even sometimes magical. An inventor by trade and talent, he learns new things quickly.
Magick is Science: Though he lacks any magical/psychokinetic abilities, ever since he found out about the existence of magick. He has been trying out different ways to harness it's effects through age old rituals combined with modern techniques. The Proto-aether Compass was his first success.


Combat skills:

Improper Melee: He knows no martial arts techniques, no sword fighting styles and certainly no ways of gun-kimbo. But he has more than enough strength to perform somersaults, along with fast kicks and devastating punches. Although still lacking the precision of a true martial artist.

History

Sparks stopped flying for a few seconds then, "...I'm not interested in this." He rasped and the welding continued.

With eyes still fixated on the broken body of some contraption that lay on the operating table, he waves his hand in your direction, over his shoulder, as if swatting away a big invisible fly. "Don't let the door hit you on the way out, sweetheart." He chimed with sacarstic cheer.

But you turned around and somehow managed to convince him to tell you a little about himself, his past, his present. He swivels around on his chair and hunches his elbows on the knees, tilting the welding mask up to get a better look at you. Himself, looking a little annoyed.


"Whatd'ya want to know? I'm your average Muspellian citizen." He spat, it felt disgusting to have any sense of belonging to the place. Perhaps it's time to move on. "Blacksmith by profession, ...slash mechanic ..slash out-of-work scientist ...I make and fix stuff."

"Yeah yeah - I used to work for Ragnarok Inc, but that's ancient history. Absolutely nothing good to say about that lot. But I think you'd know that already." He closed his eyes and shrugged, keeping his cool.

"Anyway, thought I'd get to live in Nifl if I worked with them, but ahh ...everything just goes to heck with them after some time." He did not seem keen on the details, from his expression it was clearly bad.

"Heard they got a replacement head recently, prob'ly just as scum as the rest of 'em."

---

"Why do I want to live in Nifl?" He quirked his brow like you had no clothes on, amused and bewildred, stuck with taking a long sip and emptying his mug of coffee.

"HAVE you taken a look at this dump?" He said, slamming it back down on the table, though it seems he did not mean to, as the man cringed lightly, briefly pressing a finger to the ear.


"Me and my parents -" He turns the damaged mug away from you and fishes out his wallet, pulling what seemed like a photograph out halfway, "Right.", you barely hear him murmur to himself before he slips it back into his pocket before you even got to look.

"Me and my parents. We're not born here, I was either from Varnir or Nifl ...it was a real city, y'know -when life was good? Not at all like here. You don't ask where you live when that happens, you're just glad to be there. But b'fore you know it, they disappeared and I was forced to be here. I think there was a riot or something and I woke up in a hospital all torn up, couldn't remember exactly what happened -no birth certificate no nothing. Someone paid for my bills. None of the nurse staff wanted to talk to me, it was weird as hel'." Massaging his nosebridge as he tried hard again to recall anything at all to describe, but there was just fuzzy images.


Then he looked up. "Wanna go back y'know?" He explained. "Feel like something there belongs to me. ...And since Varnir is forbidden city, the second best choice would be Nifl."

Garrete took a deep breath, it was unusual for him to talk this much. "It's late and you'd better go home, Muspell ain't safe after dark." He stood up and showed you to the door in a hurried manner. "And you'd better not be telling anyone of this, for all you know I was born and raised here. End of story."

You get a feeling that the machinist did not tell you everything, a part of you says he's reluctant yet another part thinks he doesn't even know himself.

-------Synopsis-------
Garrete is an amnesiac machinist in Muspell. Talented enough to once catch the eye of a large weaponary coorporation and now the local gangs, on the surface he has allied himself with them provides them with the armaments they wield. But the weapons he makes for them, though better than most they've seen in Muspell, are rigged to be inferior to the ones he moonlights to his true ally. The prettyboy hero of Muspell, "Ace".

Ever since the appearance of the vigilante and their chance encounter, Garrete saw a semblence of hope for the city. The change was gradual but he saw the people around him start to act differently, for the better. Not one for heroics, he accepted that his role was to be a more subtle one, a mole at the heart of the corruption plaguing Muspell. He is one of Ace's contacts who would inform him of the locations where the gangs would attack before it happened.

He walks a dangerous path of deceit and double-crossing, made even moreso when he tries to keep the beast within him chained up.

So begins...

Garrete Laguigne's Story