?

Log in

lord_of_cards's Journal

Name:
Luxord
External Services:
  • lord_of_cards@livejournal.com
  • Fallen Inoue AIM status
[THIS IS A JOURNAL DESIGNED FOR ROLEPLAYING PURPOSES ONLY.]

Player Name: Amanda LJ: fathoms_deep

Player Age (you should be at least 13 to apply and play in this game, but if your writing proves a greater maturity, exceptions will be made): 19

AIM (strongly encouraged) or MSN name: (AIM) Fallen Inoue

Journal Name: lord_of_cards

E-mail Address: kierhanai@yahoo.com

Have you read, do you understand, and do you agree to all the rules?: This time, more carefully, Ms. Ice White


Name: Ludor; Luxord

Element: Time

Number: X (10)

Personality (as they appeared in KH: CoM or KH2; because Square-Enix left out any real information about this, feel free to take creative liberties): Luxord lives by rules; sometimes he makes them up, whenever he's in doubt. On one side of the proverbial coin, he exists in his world of cards, probability, and chance. He knows that there is a fulcrum that decides the fate of everyone, and has long since accepted that fate had deigned to take away the one part of himself that made his existence fun: as a gambling man, he enjoyed taking chances, risking it all, and learning the rules... and sometimes changing them to suit his own designs. In that sense, he fashions himself as a master of fate, and often thinks that what he decides is best for all... with the exception of Xemnas himself. However, despite the apparent strict rules which rule his life, Luxord takes life as it comes, rolling with the punches, and redeeming his previous qualities with the laid-back, confident, sexy swagger that makes him famous with those who strive to seem human. At times, Luxord seems the most human with his easy words, quick touches, and a flair for the interesting and the pizazz. He crushes anyone's mental defenses by making them loosen up, tricking his way into one's hearts, finding a weakness, any desire, to make them totally fall, like a tower of cards...

History: Born as a nobleman in an Upper Class city, he was one called 'new money', having won it rich by gambling. But once he'd acquired his winnings, he carefully stockpiled it away, but continued his gambling habits, carefully, so as not to lose it all. He quickly learned the games, when to bet, when to know his limits, when to take risks... and while he was at it, rubbed elbows with the higher-ups and became the local money-man, wisely investing in rather underhanded acts such as deciet, assassination, and embezzling. Strangely enough, he was viewed as a hero in his world for maybe a week... before the Heartless came. And when that day came, the spirit of men dwindled rather quickly, and the snobbish brown-nosers that Luxord was familiar with all his life fell to the Heartless and their hungry bright eyes. Luxord, not too strong in fighting, bet himself that he could get away in time in one of the ships the Heartless use... that was a bet he lost, at the cost of his Heart.

But instead of dying, he became a Nobody - a half-alive person, with only partial-feelings, half-felt things. His mind still as keen as ever, he was faced with a choice: join Xemnas, and the Order of the black cloaks, or live alone and without a heart for the rest of his days. Calculating the chances for success and regaining his heart, by joining with others of the same mind.

Writing Sample: Manipulating a coin over his knuckles, his eyes glistening with weary moisture, he blinked them at last and kicked up his feet, agonizing over the most recent of choices. He shouldn't agonize needlessly, but for some reason, this one had been making him mad for the last hour and a half. He was exhausted, for one thing. He should have taken the time to nap. But he hated sleeping on decisions when he didn't have to, particularly... stupid ones, like this one.

Why, Luxord reasoned, was it that every time there required any amount of fiscal value involved did the Organization turn to him? It felt like that every day. Especially when there was munny involved, it inevitably was dumped on his head. What was he? He was a goddamn gambler, the one who risked his neck perhaps more than anyone else because no one in this damned organization had the brass genitalia to do it themselves. Regrettably, he wasn't about to say so. Not to Xemnas's or anyone else's face, at least.

He was a hard working member, a fighter, just as much as Axel and Marluxia. He was not - and refused to be - the checkbook balancer. He was good at getting what he wanted; he was good at getting what everyone else wanted. But between this want and that need, he wanted one thing most of all, and it was that which brought them all together again in the end: a heart. Any heart.

So, he kept his mouth shut. But for now, the rankling decision to talk to someone about a request for a harder quest brought him stiflingly back to wakefulness. Oh well. What's the probability that one more lost night of sleep will hinder his judgment for the morrow?

Statistics