Gucci is a 7'2, monolith of a man, unless he's standing beside other Roegadyn. An entrepreneur with a penchant for immaculate tailoring and bling, he is often seen flaunting bespoke suits, but even his fashion sense is nothing if not unpredictable. He's deafeningly quiet, or boisterously loud, even behind the metal masks he tends to wear in public.He sounds like this and this.

...and this.                              

What they say

  • 'Jesse's face is proof he doesn't need weapons.' ×Anon.

  • 'Sold! To the suave Roegadyn who looks like he could kill you with a hug!' ×Anon.

  • 'He has a stern outward appearance, stolid and calm. But underneath is a kaleidoscope of emotions and thoughts. Complex and beautiful as a rainbow.' ×bug

  • 'You don't seem the bath house type.' ×Pollux

  • 'You are quite handsome!without the mask... Just in case you needed to hear it.' ×Anon.

  • 'Gucci is a sweetheart.' ×Anon.

  • 'Ya stay...Monsterous, eh?.' ×Luthah.

  • 'I haven't been in Limsa for long, but I've heard stories of him... a bad man with a temper who thinks he owns this city...What you experienced is about the only thing he has going for him. He's strong, clearly... but he's an idiot with an inflated ego.' ×Anon.

  • 'In short, G is rough around the edges like a chainsaw.' ×Anon.

  • 'I think he's neat.' ×Lihli



Gucci is in the waste management business, and can usually be found loitering in the markets of Limsa Lominsa, but has been seen loping around The Gold Court more recently. If approached, he may entertain you with a conversation about:

  • Loans or gambling,

  • Getting you work,

  • Unsavory jobs,

  • Elusive goods,

  • Protection or muscle,

  • Real estate,

  • Fashion advice


Gucci 'Gol'jaw'
The            Shark


  • He's a generous tipper

  • He's not afraid of anything, except chickens and dhalmels

  • His brain doesn't work right

  • He manages a business out of Hingashi

  • He owns several venues

  • He is a loveless, sexless brute

  • There once was a run-in with a woman in a Lominsan pastry shop

  • He walked into a noble's dinner party and broke the guy's nose on his own table

  • He owns a horse

  • He has a gambling problem

  • He's well-known in the lamp trade business _

  • His vision is kinda funny, but he can smell pretty well



 RC | Roegadyn            
 CL | Hellsguard               
 HT | 7'2      
 WT | Probably heavy      
 HAIR | Blond     
 EYE | Hazel / White        



  •     leaner than the average Roegadyn,    

  •  muscular; broad shoulders     


  •    Worn, oft wrapped knuckles          



Notable Features



  •     black body/face/finger tattoos    



  •   damaged-looking left eye    

  •  a permanent gilded neck fixture          


  •  occasionally seen with gold-capped canines       



  •  Often flaunting jewelry          

  •                 +        


Me Vs G

I love connecting people and telling stories. I'm also an adult, and sometimes those stories are for adults. If anything ever makes you uncomfortable, bump me IC or OOC with 'flamingo' and I'll move away from it.
When it comes to G: it's roleplay. If we end up running into each other, let's stake a fence between IC | OOC. If that doesn't work for you, do us both a favor and give the big guy a pass. Regardless of what he gets into, I'm not looking for anything myself beyond good times with friends.G's on the more grounded end of FF RP, and won't typically get deeply mixed up with voidsent, demons, vampires, etc, or really godly/lore bendy characters. If you walk up to him lookin' 12 feet tall and glowy, he'll probably wander off.Have a hella nice day.


    The Pit 

Below, a back cracked like softwood.There was a smokesmog sea between his plush leather seat and the fight, vanilla swirls in cedar clouds. The white strands painted dream scenes. Dunes, cut flawless, sprawling for malms; sun-baked towers, roof tiles worn and orange and splitting in the heat. A sheer mountain, only half caught in a sunset. Anywhere, but here.The spectators' thrill made for a muddled din. He puffed to trace the painter, mouth moving for him when merc taunts turned to quips about his record in the ring, or lack thereof. No, he didn't fight for cash. Not that the Gigs seemed inclined to bring anything home, either.A peacock arrived, mint-tinged, to disrupt his vanilla bean basking and grease his palm. Light, again. He spared her the unfortunate conversation and considered it a blessing for both of them when she didn't try. A talk for later.Her paper didn't ease the itch. Maybe next time he'd bet on the big one.

 A Resume 

He didn't have one.His gaze slid side to side, glass balls absently remembering the place. An unease was settling in his guts. Not the imagining of losing them to black markets, such a faraway notion that all he could do was curl a lip at the image of a snaggle-toothed collector spitting at the state of his liver. It was something else, sticking like a stomach pain.Even free of the runt, it bothered him, up in the backroom. The words made sense: simple promises, business smiles. But the questions. He never liked them.For all the writing, for all the desk-dealings, the important things never got put to paper. And if his gut could have its way, they never would.'Moon Moon.'


Names. He wasn't great with them. Faces, yeah.In the deep buzz, they were all-in-one. Red and black colours and voices as far as you could hear. Shapes undefined, or where they came from. But the expressions they made? Jack, Queen, King.Two chips clacked between his fingers.Droop-lidded: they could've been there. Table partners to keep him upright. The discontent stirred, and stirred, toxic stew in his gut. If he reached out, maybe he could hold them, hug them like kids.'Lucky,' he bumbled as thick as he could. The tie across from him was used to it. It drew.This was the one. Bright-eyed, all heart. A ten out of ten. This was no Dealer's Ventti, a smug smile teetering on the edge of the hit. A surge of jittering brain juices. This high, this moment, might finally last forever. And yes, another smile. A face to match. Elation. Beat down and back up, repeat. For this.A knuckle to the throat. A natural for the tie.Bust. Faces lost to the 52 sea.