Gusto

Gusto is played by John. You can follow him on Instagram.

Gusto is a wild and charismatic figure, whose sharp wit and silver tongue make him a master of words and manipulation. Dressed in a leather jacket, jeans, and a T-shirt bearing his own name, Gusto carries an air of rebellion and confidence wherever he goes. His voice, gravelly from years of smoking, adds an edge to his words, while the tattoo of "MOM" on his hand hints at a softer, perhaps more complex side beneath the bravado.

Gusto’s small, wiry frame is quick and nimble, his sharp, angular features giving him a mischievous, almost cunning appearance. His skin is a deep, earthy hue, and his large, pointed ears twitch at every sound, ever alert to the world around him. His piercing eyes, set beneath a furrowed brow, gleam with a cleverness that betrays his nature. Despite his rough exterior, there’s a certain agility in his movements, a quickness that suggests he’s always one step ahead, ready to twist a situation to his favour at a moment’s notice.

Upon meeting Gusto, it's clear that he has a knack for bending reality to his will, spinning tales so seamlessly that they almost feel believable—if only for a moment. Though Dash saw through his stories, there’s an undeniable charm in the way Gusto weaves his version of events, always maintaining control of the narrative. To some, he’s an enigma, a man with a past as mysterious as the smoke trailing from his cigarette.

Outfit

Gusto’s outfit is as much a statement as the swagger in his step. He sports a well-worn leather jacket, the kind that looks like it’s seen countless brawls and dodged more than a few daggers. The jacket is adorned with various patches, some faded beyond recognition, while others seem to tell stories of adventures and battles fought. The collar is perpetually popped, giving him an air of defiance, as though he’s daring the world to challenge him. The sleeves are pushed back just enough to reveal a tattoo of the word "MOM" on his hand—perhaps the only soft sentiment he’ll ever show the world.

Beneath the jacket, Gusto wears a simple, tight-fitting T-shirt with his own name emblazoned across the chest in bold letters. It's as if he wanted to leave no doubt in anyone’s mind about who he is—a brand of his own making. The shirt, though plain, clings to his wiry frame, showing off the agility and strength beneath. It’s worn at the edges, fraying slightly at the seams, a testament to his wild lifestyle, but the name remains bright and bold, a reflection of his larger-than-life personality.

His jeans are equally as battered, dark and rugged, with a few deliberate tears and scuffs that add to his rebellious image. They’re loose enough to give him full range of movement but fit well enough to hint at his sharp, lithe build. A few pockets are stuffed with who knows what—tools of the trade, tricks for the next con, or simply the remnants of a life lived on the edge. A faded chain hangs from his belt loop, clinking softly with each swaggering step, an almost casual sound of danger that follows him wherever he goes.

Topping off the ensemble are his boots—black, scuffed, and clearly broken in after countless miles of walking the line between trouble and triumph. The soles are thick and worn, with the faintest traces of dirt from places he’s wandered into and out of with little more than a smirk and a lie. His entire outfit speaks of a life on the move, never lingering too long in one place, always ready for the next big con or the next thrilling escape.

Equipment

Gusto carries with him only what he can fit into the pockets of his jacket and the small, tattered satchel slung across his shoulder. His life has always been one of travel, trickery, and survival, and his gear reflects that simplicity. Among the most treasured items in his possession is a small, weathered lighter, often flicked open and closed absentmindedly as he talks. It’s no ordinary tool; its flame is a constant companion, sparking the Emberleaf he is rarely seen without. The leaves roll into thin, delicate smokes, their scent drifting like a quiet whisper of trouble on the horizon. The lighter itself has a shine to it, though it's clear it's seen better days—stolen, perhaps, from a noble’s estate or lifted during one of his cons.

Alongside the lighter, Gusto’s satchel carries other small treasures, items that might seem insignificant to an outsider but mean everything to him. His most notable possession is an alms box, a simple wooden container that he keeps tucked away. The edges are chipped, the hinges squeak when it opens, and inside are a few coins, mementos, and trinkets. What they mean, Gusto keeps to himself, but it’s clear the box holds more than just material worth. Maybe it’s a reminder of the faith he once had, or perhaps it’s a tool, repurposed now for a life far removed from where it started. Either way, it’s the one item he’s never without, hidden away but always close.

The rest of his gear is sparse, and much of it appears to have been ‘acquired’ through less-than-honest means. His fingers have a way of finding their way into pockets, pilfering small items without a second thought. A jewelled dagger, perfectly balanced, gleams from within his jacket—too fine a weapon for someone of his station, yet it rests comfortably in his grip, as though it belongs there. These tools, remnants of his earlier life, speak to his skill in getting into places he shouldn’t.

Everything Gusto owns, he carries with him. There's no place to return to, no home waiting at the end of a journey. His life has always been one of movement, of living moment to moment, and his gear is a reflection of that. It’s practical, with just enough space for the spoils of his latest heist or the tools of his trade. In Gusto’s world, anything worth having is worth carrying, and everything he carries has a story—even if he’s the one spinning the tale.