Re: 1/2 Background: Edward Elric, along with his brother Alphonse, had tried to resurrect their mother using forbidden alchemy, and failed disastrously. Alphonse Elric's body had been taken by the Gate of Truth, and little Ed is convinced that his brother's soul is somewhere in there. Flame Alchemist Roy Mustang had seen the light of the transmutation and advise Ed to come to Central - which he did.
Ed trained under Izumi Curtis, a rather powerful Alchemist, and found out that the only reason why he can transmute without a circle is that he had performed forbidden alchemy. Impressed by the exchange, Edward dove into darker arcana, not caring anymore about himself, or others, just as long as he could repent for his sin and bring his brother back. He has touched the Gate far too many times, and has lost too much of his soul as exchange.
In order to access certain libraries, Ed had taken the State Alchemist exam at the age of twelve, and passed with flying colors. He is nominally under the command of Colonel Roy Mustang, but he has taken to the research side of the military, occasionally being sent to the field - some of which, mysteriously, had surrendered to military control without any protest. The Fullmetal Alchemist is a feared, whispered name in his universe, rather than being a Hero of The People.
Edward has already lost much of his spirit, his soul, in the quest to correct his mistakes, but he is willing to give everything to do so, and to kill whoever stands in his way.
(Actually, just think of Ed without Al for, what, five years. Dark!Ed.)
RP Sample:
It was safe to say that Edward Elric wasn't happy.
Mustang had, once again, sent him off on a useless mission - damn that man - and he had had to corner a town into submission, quell a rebellion and set up everything for the military to take over. It was not the prettiest job in the universe, but it had to do. He had to keep up appearances. He could use Mustang's cover for a little while more; once he found what he was searching for, that bastard would finally get what was coming to him.
That Dr. Marcoh person was promising. His notes were well concealed as recipes, and he could tell that the man was fiercely protective of his research. Was there a reason why he was called the Crimson Alchemist?
Suddenly, he stopped, looked up - and cursed fluently in three languages. Where the hell am I?
Birds were chirping, and the pavement underfoot had given way to rocky ground, and...what...the walls had disappeared, giving way to bright blue sky.
He snapped the book he was holding closed. Someone was going to give him an explanation for this, whether they wanted to or not.