ghastlyInc

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

Gillian

"Most gracious." Gill chuckled, snuffing the still burning fire on his arm out before anything caught fire. Fire safety when you were self immolating was really only a lesson you had to learn once or twice. "Well regardless, thank you for the message. If you have anything else you need please don't hesitate to come find me. Normally on the training grounds or the Butcher's Block when I'm in the keep." He said with a small wave as he turned around, walking towards a...strangely understated set of small buildings. They shared much in the way of architecture with the surrounding keep, though bore little in the way of decoration.

The Butcher's Block wasn't its true name. Gillian very much doubted the three or so buildings, two being barely a story tall and more or less used as glorified storage, constituted having a name at all. It was more an informal title, granted by the more suspicious of their order, to where the various priestesses who oversaw the restoration and maintenance of Reliquaries resided. And, though not as often, were Living Reliquaries were made.

It was honestly a bit rude when he thought about it. The priestess' that oversaw his care didn't EXCLUSIVELY cut people up or work on old magical holy limbs. If they did, he'd imagine it be a fairly boring career overall. It wasn't like there was more than a handful of Living Reliquaries at any given time, and an artifact in storage probably only needed the occasional touch up anyway.

"You're late." A young woman said, voice dark with agitation as she leaned on her staff, glaring daggers at Gillian. Gillian shrugged, making to move past her without a word before her hand shot forward, grabbing the collar of his armor and pulling him to a dead stop. "You're late." She said again, the normal warning in her tone now reaching a fever pitch.

"Hilda. The trip was lovely. I missed you as well. Just counted the minutes till we were reunited." Gill drawled, making no effort to escape. It would have been a lost cause anyway. Once Hilda had spotted him, it was pretty much a guarantee he was going to end up on a table. And, sadly, never in the fun way. Try as he might.

"Thats SISTER Fristone." She scolded as she dragged him into one of the buildings, spare furniture pushed to the side and a wide table placed at its center, a small shelf sitting beneath it with a variety of arcane tools Gill couldn't begin to understand the use of. "Disrobe. How are your arms? Did they perform adequately? Any lag in motion or discomfort?" She asked, releasing him finally.

Gillian spared her the comment about it being traditional to buy him dinner before asking him to strip and began to doff his armor. "Damnedest thing Hilda. They fell off mid fight. Ran right off into the sunset. The captain had to fashion me new ones out of fairy dust and horse ejaculate." He huffed as he struggled to free himself from his undershirt, his arm length making the task far more difficult than it had any right to be.

"As charming as ever. Hold still." Hilda scolding, helping him free himself. The otherwise embarrassing assistance being somewhat old hat to both of them at this point. "With an attitude such as that it is a wonder you are unwed. Lie down."

Gillian obediently followed the command, flinching as the cold wood brush against him. "I hardly think you of all people should be criticizing my sex life." He grumbled as he felt hands brush along the overlapping plates that connected to his spine, carefully lifting each. It didn't hurt as such, but it was still too alien to ever fully get used to and he found himself forcing the instinct to flinch away from it out of his head.

"Do not mistake my lack of interest in sex as inexperience in other avenues of romantic conquest. Clench your left fist." She said, examining mechanism that Gill was deadly certain he didn't want to know about in action. She reaches into the small shelf, pulling out a thin wand with an odd green yellow crystal on its end. "My vow of abstinence shouldn't be confused for your vow of obstinance. You're lagging slightly. Which is why you shouldn't take skipping our sessions so lightly."

Gill scoffed but didn't argue. He couldn't feel the lag but if Hilda said there was lag, there was. "Skip these? And miss out on the riveting conversation? I would never." he said as faint ghost sensations rumbled through him as the wand began its work. They sat in silence for a moment, both so the Priestess could concentrate on her task and so Gill could concentrate on not leaping from the table as the Mayonite fiddled with what he was pretty sure was the second most important part of his nervous system.

"So...who was the girl you were speaking to in the court yard?" She asks, finally putting away the dreaded wand and flicking his spines closed. "Princess' attendant. Apparently we're going to a party. Totally into me. Jealous?" Gill chirpped, happy now that the worst of it was over and flexing his left hand once more, feeling the almost slight improvement.

"That statement might bear more weight were you a woman. In more ways than one." Hilda snipped back, moving to examine his arms. "You're attending then? I can have the formal dress for a Reliquary sent up to your room."

Gill groaned, burying his face into the grain of the table. "Mayon's Button no." he said, Hilda reaching up and pinching his cheek painfully as reward. "Language." She said coldly. "And its traditional. And you would look handsome in it."

"I will LOOK..." Gill rebutted, shooting the woman a pouting glare. "Like the worlds most fanciful amputated asshole."

"Reon's Burning Sphincter of Might is both dignified and deserving of your respect. It is no less a Reliquary than your own." Hilda responded, stone faced as she met Gillian's shocked and dumbfounded stare.

"I...that....that is a thing? We have something like that!?" He asked, suddenly feeling VERY grateful for his arms.

"No. That was a joke and you are an idiot. You ARE wearing the formal robes. End of discussion." She said, standing and leaving to retrieve the offending garments in question. Leaving Gillian to sink into the table and wonder if the Captain was going to have this hard a time with the news.

....And giving whatever hopes he might have had of actually impressing Alisha a summary execution.

Champions Have Arrived in the New World: A Problem Children and No Game No Life-Inspired Isekai RP

Leith Walton

Leith examined the strange invitation before him a moment, its mysterious contents whirling about his (if he were being humble) overwhelming brilliant mind. Such an odd little thing...a prank from his siblings perhaps? There was no return address nor any means of identifying who it was for. And given his family's lacking experience in handling their own postage (having servants for dictation was such a wonderful thing) that would be the most likely explanation. Still, that was a matter he could deal with later. Perhaps ask Daddy or the help where the letter had come from. If he were in a speaking mood.

Turning from his desk Leith began to exit his study, intent on finding his siblings...only for his stride to meet unforgiving air. Below him an...admittedly lovely verdant vista regaled him with its splendor. Majestic evergreens and deciduous peppered the landscape surrounding a clearing housing a crystal lake, the grasses he could see as being unmanicured but lush in their own wild fashion. In other circumstances, he'd have stopped and taken in the view. However that was rather hard to do when said view was hurtling toward you at the speed of hate.

The fall began in earnest, Leith reflexively reaching up and grasping his hat as though it might save him. Details became hard to register in his mind. He was falling he knew that. And by the sounds of screaming, he was not alone. It was strangely comforting to know he was about to die with an audience, a fact he filed away for later.

Remebering his place as an English Man,he resolved himself not to panic despite the danger. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH" He screamed, with the shrill piose and dignity his heritage demanded as he flailed his arms about wildly in a refined manner. Despite, in his mind, having sorted the issue right out, gravity rudely paid him no mind and continued to fling him towards the ground.

As the earth rose up to meet him, Leith shut his eyes tightly, praying that Newtonian physics might just leave him alone if he pretended REALLY HARD that it didn't exist. As he hit the ground he felt....that he didn't. Where searing pain and death should have been he felt nothing. Cracking one eye open gently he checked just to make sure that he was, in fact still falling. "oh..." He said aloud, looking at the no longer rapidly approaching ground. "I...I can't believed that worked..." He laughed as he hung upside down mid air.

"An object in motion stays in motion my ASS Sir Issac!" Leith yelled, laughing somewhat hysterically. "I knew some loser from Middlesex was nothing more than a hack piece of shiiIIIIII-" He began, immediately landing face first as the universe administered some vicarious revenge for the aforementioned physicist. Leith groaned as pain shot through him, his neck aching from where he landed on it. He'd survived atleast...that was something.

Keeping his eyes closed (as that seemed to be working out the best for him) Leith listened as bodies dropped next to him. He was about to get up to see if anyone needed help when the word "DRAGON" followed by several explosions reached his ears. He promptly decided staying exactly where he was and pretending to be dead was maybe the best option.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

Gillian

Gillian bit down his reaction as the girl revealed herself to ACTUALLY be a Lady in Waiting. Part of him shouldn't be surprised. "First time I use that old line and I get it in one. Part of me is starting to suspect Reon does this shit on purpose..." He thought, chuckling despite himself. He'd expected the girl to get flustered as the 'oh so noble knight' made a pass at her or perhaps see the obvious flirt for what it was and slap him. But this was perhaps more amusing.

"Rest assured Alisha,..." He said, comically mimicing the girls curtsy with hem of his tabard. Less out of not knowing how a gentlemen was supposed to respond to such a gesture (not that he did as there were probably stumps more gentlemanly than him ) but more in the hope that he might squeeze a laugh or two out of the girl. "We appreciate the pageantry. Even if not all of us are so well versed." He adds with a laugh as he righted himself unsteadily, apparently having dipped lower than he really needed have for that curtsy.

"I am Gillian Reynaud of La Reine, Living Reliquary of Twined Arms of Dawn and Grace. Successor to Patrica Tailguard of the same. And so on.." He said, gesturing vaguely with his hand. The full title was as long and dull as its beginning suggested and he'd not subject the poor woman to it as he had. Not that he could remember much after that first part. "But please just call me Gill. And I hope you think it not too forward of me but I've two small request I'd hope you see to on behalf of the order."

He stands to his full height, a stern look crossing his face as he does so. For a brief moment, one could be forgiven for thinking him actually of some merit to his rank. Back stiff, shoulders squared and artificial arms folded comfortably behind him radiating their beauty and threat in equal measure. Like the outspread wings of a hawk as it delivered a killing blow. "The first being that, as I recall, Her Highness wished to see the weapons we carry. If it pleases The Lady I ask that a space be put aside for us. Not every weapon we cater to is as....precise as a blade." He said firmly, raising one hand (well away from Alisha) and allowing magical flames to engulf it but spread no further. "If a demonstration is to be in order, I would wish to see Her Highness' work is not wasted due to an accident. However that minor chance that may be." He said, adding that last part quickly. If only to reassure the girl.

"The second..." He said, voice dark and grim as though he were about to ask of her some terrible deed. He postured lowered itself, so as to bring his eyes level to her. Though maintaining an arms (well...her arms atleast) distance. "Is that you do me the honor of the first dance of the evening." He chirped, voice immediately dropping its hard edge and returning to its normal levity. Hey...It wasn't everyday you were in a position to score a dance with one of the Princess' retinue. "Or be squarely slapped by one." He thought, realizing he'd given Alisha an optimal position to do just so with no small amount of amusement. Either way, win win for him.

Champions Have Arrived in the New World: A Problem Children and No Game No Life-Inspired Isekai RP

Leith Walton

• Name: Leith Walton, Professor of Machina, Ph.D.
• Age: 23
• Gender: Male
• Race: Human
• Appearance:
• Personality: Leith is a man powered by ego and ego alone. He loves nothing more than to be showered with (in his mind) the much deserved attention his work provides. Thankfully, he’s long since come to the conclusion that it is easier to catch flies with honey, as it were, devoting much of his efforts to improving the lives of those around him. Both to gain their admiration and to show them how “amazing, magnanimous, attractive and humble” he truly is.
  
  He also has a tendency to get overly involved in things he should really let others handle his work, often sometimes to disastrous effect. It’s hardly HIS fault you primitive savage’s farm caught fire. He’s invention would have totally worked if you hadn’t messed it up somehow. But don’t worry! He’ll help you clean up your mess.
• Abilities:
  Better Living Through Machina: Leith is a natural inventor and tinkerer. Given the right materials and a thorough understanding of the core principles, he can theoretically construct just about any machine imaginable. From autonomous farming golems to world destroying doomsday weapons, all he needs is an unlimited budget and books to read.
  As such he prefers to make more simple gadgets; Replicating various abilities he’s seen in the new world to lesser extents. At the moment though, he only has his favorites on hand including…
  
  Shockwork Cane: An advanced and compact clockwork generator that Leith uses as his primary means of self defense. While its wielder is passable at best with his...swordplay, the difference is made up for as the cane delivers painful electrical shocks to whomever he bludgeons. Secretly he has named it ‘Bettsy’ and can sometimes be heard complimenting it during its daily hand winding.
  
  Foam Bombs: A set of refillable brass canisters that fit comfortably in the palm of ones hand. When a small switch on the side is flipped, two internal chambers mix together and form a compound made from simple starches and gelatins, which burst out from a release port. The result is a thick, fast drying foam that is surprisingly durable, one canister’s worth being able to hold up to a thousand pounds of weight. With only the occasional accidental discharge to watch out for.
• Skills: Engineering,metallurgy, chemistry, machining, praising himself. and dashingly handsome in a suit. Or a dress, if you shove enough alcohol in him and ask nicely.
• Backstory: Born in the city of New London, Leith was the son of famed Minister of Frogien Taxation, Sir Bradly Walton; also known as the Queen’s Gentlemen for his harrowing life of manly adventure, stiff upper lip attitude, and impeccable manners in the service of Her Majesty. Being the son of such a respected man, you might expect that Leith’s childhood was one of strict discipline and noble doctrine.
  
  ...but you’d be dead wrong. Sir Walton was, at least privately, a known softie. Leith and his five sisters were basically spoiled to their core, the grizzled veteran basically buckling to even their slightest whims. So, for much of his early life, Leith enjoyed lavish parties, expensive boutique dresses(more a whim of his sisters, not that he seemed to mind) and suits. However he grew bored as he entered his teenage years, finding little joy in the material pleasures that had sustained him for so long.
  
  Eventually, while out on his morning walk, Leith came across a public demonstration of the submersible golems used to trawl the Thames for debris and instantly fell in love. There was just something engrossing about the polished brass beings that begged for his attention and it was not to be ignored.
  
  Quickly he enrolled in the University of London’s School of Machina Arts and Sciences, his lackluster performance from prior years in school being thankfully ignored thanks to a generous donation from Daddy. It was...a difficult adjustment period to be sure. For one, while he was certainly...an enthusiastic learner, he was pretty much ignorant of any sort of mechanical knowledge when he began his attendance. That, combined with his fellow students regarding him with little more than an eccentric spoiled party goer with a passing fancy, left him with few friends.
  
  It took Leith three years to finally pass his freshmen courses. Three years of the most regiorous study of his life, not just of machina but all the sciences he could get his hands on. And in that time, the dismissal of his peers had evolved to outright mockery, even well respected teachers advising him that (perhaps) this was a poor career choice for him. The act had all but insulted the young Leith who, now finally competent enough to understand the basics of his craft decided to redouble his efforts.
  
  It took him only two more years to finally finish his degree and an additional year to obtain is Doctorate, buoyed not by his fathers influence and wealth, but sheer desire to spite those that had insulted his greatness. After graduation Leith took a teaching position with the University, devoting huge swaths of his time to researching and improving upon the works of his ‘contemporaries’ for quote ‘the public good’. His lectures often devolving less into actual machina and more into the immense design failures of his fellow teachers and alumni.
  
  While many outside his craft lauded him with praise (all deserved) he’d garnered something of a cult of hate around him. This scarcely bothered Leith, who was more than eager to feed their annoyance and throw their collective failures back in their face at every opportunity.
  
  But as they say, Pride cometh before the fall. During his final year in the world of New London, Leith supervised the construction of several high pressure distilleries for local spirit manufactures in London. While it wasn’t his normal vein of work, he’d taken the job largely so a particularly annoying peer would be denied the chance to have it. But the workload of refitting and redesigning three dozen facilities at one time was just too much for one man to handle on his own (despite his insistence otherwise). So...he cut a few corners on machining tolerances here and there. It was just a distillery afterall, what was the worse that could happen.
  
  Apparently the worst that could happen was flooding the streets with scalding alcohol, thankfully claiming no lives but injuring hundreds. The scandal that followed all but ruined Leith’s reputation. To the point that even his father suggested he take time to...distance himself. So that the familys honor might be maintained.
  
  When that mysterious letter arrived Leith all but slammed his seal of approval on the blasted thing. Even if it was a joke, a chance to escape his embarrassment and provide his considerable talents to those worthy of them was an all too sweet chance to pass up.
• Origin: The World of New London. An alternative history where the British Empire never tired and became the world government during the early 1400s. Here, with little conquest left to the world, the Empire turned its attention to rapid advancements in the sciences, eventually (by pure happenstance) developing a sort of psuedo-perpetual motion machine. Where in the amount of work put into their simple clockwork systems was significantly less than the amount of work such a system could turn out.

Champions Have Arrived in the New World: A Problem Children and No Game No Life-Inspired Isekai RP

Leith Walton

• Name: Leith Walton, Professor of Machina, Ph.D.
• Age: 23
• Gender: Male
• Race: Human
• Appearance:
• Personality: Leith is a man powered by ego and ego alone. He loves nothing more than to be showered with (in his mind) the much deserved attention his work provides. Thankfully, he’s long since come to the conclusion that it is easier to catch flies with honey, as it were, devoting much of his efforts to improving the lives of those around him. Both to gain their admiration and to show them how “amazing, magnanimous, attractive and humble” he truly is.
  
  He also has a tendency to get overly involved in things he should really let others handle his work, often sometimes to disastrous effect. It’s hardly HIS fault you primitive savage’s farm caught fire. He’s invention would have totally worked if you hadn’t messed it up somehow. But don’t worry! He’ll help you clean up your mess.
• Abilities:
  Better Living Through Machina: Leith is a natural inventor and tinkerer. Given the right materials and a thorough understanding of the core principles, he can theoretically construct just about any machine imaginable. From autonomous farming golems to world destroying doomsday weapons, all he needs is an unlimited budget and books to read.
  As such he prefers to make more simple gadgets; Replicating various abilities he’s seen in the new world to lesser extents. At the moment though, he only has his favorites on hand including…
  
  Shockwork Cane: An advanced and compact clockwork generator that Leith uses as his primary means of self defense. While its wielder is passable at best with his...swordplay, the difference is made up for as the cane delivers painful electrical shocks to whomever he bludgeons. Secretly he has named it ‘Bettsy’ and can sometimes be heard complimenting it during its daily hand winding.
  
  Foam Bombs: A set of refillable brass canisters that fit comfortably in the palm of ones hand. When a small switch on the side is flipped, two internal chambers mix together and form a compound made from simple starches and gelatins, which burst out from a release port. The result is a thick, fast drying foam that is surprisingly durable, one canister’s worth being able to hold up to a thousand pounds of weight. With only the occasional accidental discharge to watch out for.
• Skills: Engineering,metallurgy, chemistry, machining, praising himself. and dashingly handsome in a suit. Or a dress, if you shove enough alcohol in him and ask nicely.
• Backstory: Born in the city of New London, Leith was the son of famed Minister of Frogien Taxation, Sir Bradly Walton; also known as the Queen’s Gentlemen for his harrowing life of manly adventure, stiff upper lip attitude, and impeccable manners in the service of Her Majesty. Being the son of such a respected man, you might expect that Leith’s childhood was one of strict discipline and noble doctrine.
  
  ...but you’d be dead wrong. Sir Walton was, at least privately, a known softie. Leith and his five sisters were basically spoiled to their core, the grizzled veteran basically buckling to even their slightest whims. So, for much of his early life, Leith enjoyed lavish parties, expensive boutique dresses(more a whim of his sisters, not that he seemed to mind) and suits. However he grew bored as he entered his teenage years, finding little joy in the material pleasures that had sustained him for so long.
  
  Eventually, while out on his morning walk, Leith came across a public demonstration of the submersible golems used to trawl the Thames for debris and instantly fell in love. There was just something engrossing about the polished brass beings that begged for his attention and it was not to be ignored.
  
  Quickly he enrolled in the University of London’s School of Machina Arts and Sciences, his lackluster performance from prior years in school being thankfully ignored thanks to a generous donation from Daddy. It was...a difficult adjustment period to be sure. For one, while he was certainly...an enthusiastic learner, he was pretty much ignorant of any sort of mechanical knowledge when he began his attendance. That, combined with his fellow students regarding him with little more than an eccentric spoiled party goer with a passing fancy, left him with few friends.
  
  It took Leith three years to finally pass his freshmen courses. Three years of the most regiorous study of his life, not just of machina but all the sciences he could get his hands on. And in that time, the dismissal of his peers had evolved to outright mockery, even well respected teachers advising him that (perhaps) this was a poor career choice for him. The act had all but insulted the young Leith who, now finally competent enough to understand the basics of his craft decided to redouble his efforts.
  
  It took him only two more years to finally finish his degree and an additional year to obtain is Doctorate, buoyed not by his fathers influence and wealth, but sheer desire to spite those that had insulted his greatness. After graduation Leith took a teaching position with the University, devoting huge swaths of his time to researching and improving upon the works of his ‘contemporaries’ for quote ‘the public good’. His lectures often devolving less into actual machina and more into the immense design failures of his fellow teachers and alumni.
  
  While many outside his craft lauded him with praise (all deserved) he’d garnered something of a cult of hate around him. This scarcely bothered Leith, who was more than eager to feed their annoyance and throw their collective failures back in their face at every opportunity.
  
  But as they say, Pride cometh before the fall. During his final year in the world of New London, Leith supervised the construction of several high pressure distilleries for local spirit manufactures in London. While it wasn’t his normal vein of work, he’d taken the job largely so a particularly annoying peer would be denied the chance to have it. But the workload of refitting and redesigning three dozen facilities at one time was just too much for one man to handle on his own (despite his insistence otherwise). So...he cut a few corners on machining tolerances here and there. It was just a distillery afterall, what was the worse that could happen.
  
  Apparently the worst that could happen was flooding the streets with scalding alcohol, thankfully claiming no lives but injuring hundreds. The scandal that followed all but ruined Leith’s reputation. To the point that even his father suggested he take time to...distance himself. So that the familys honor might be maintained.
  
  When that mysterious letter arrived Leith all but slammed his seal of approval on the blasted thing. Even if it was a joke, a chance to escape his embarrassment and provide his considerable talents to those worthy of them was an all too sweet chance to pass up.
• Origin: The World of New London. An alternative history where the British Empire never tired and became the world government during the early 1400s. Here, with little conquest left to the world, the Empire turned its attention to rapid advancements in the sciences, eventually (by pure happenstance) developing a sort of psuedo-perpetual motion machine. Where in the amount of work put into their simple clockwork systems was significantly less than the amount of work such a system could turn out.

Champions Have Arrived in the New World: A Problem Children and No Game No Life-Inspired Isekai RP

Interested, I shall make an isekai'd person.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

Gillian

The trip back to Aimlenn was...reasonably uneventful, all things considered. A few rebellious prisoners that needed to be reminded of their situation had provided him with some much needed entertainment. It....wasn't much. But it was always fun to put the fear of Reon into the hearts of bandits. Coming back to the capital was far less so.

As their procession rode through the street the common folk gawked at them, their eyes wide with religious and patriotic awe. To most of them at least. Gillian for his part, being one (if not the only) member of the order whose preferred mount was, in fact, as much an ass as its owner garnered more than a few confused stares mixed in with the reverie. Gillian hated the attention. Not because he was something of a comedic figure to them. But because it was the same mindless admiration that put a girl barely older than he was when he first began training in charge.

So, needless to say, getting back Candaeln was a welcomed reprieve. A quiet shelter of stone away from those who were too smitten with a virginal maiden protector, even if it was the home and hearth of such tripe.

Thankfully, Fanilly had either the wisdom or the impatience to relieve them of duty pretty much the moment they step through the gates. Saving everyone (herself included) the hassle of some grand speech about their victory in lieu of good old fashioned R&R. He'd just finished stabling his donkey when he spied...a younger knight speaking to a rather finely dressed woman.

The Knight (Jarde?@PaulHaynek Jarret? Gillian was sure it was one of the two names) was understandably brusque with the woman. No Rose, no matter how fanatical in their loyalty, was exactly thrilled to receive new orders first thing after coming home. Gillian choked down a small laugh, making a mental note to pull the blonde aside later. If only to gently remind him that shooting the messenger (even if unintentionally) was sort of Faux Pas. Especially when said messenger was working for Royalty.

He coughed loudly to catch the girls attention, sparing a moment to nod at Ser Ban@jdh97 to let the man know he'd handle it. Ban was...a creepy bastard. A creepy bastard who could shoot like it was nobodies business, but a creepy bastard none the less. Leaving Gillian as the only (massively under) qualified individual give the Iron Roses Formal reply to the request.

"I apologize for my fellow knights....curt response Ma'am." He offered softly, taking a moment to bow slightly in apology. "He's too new to know the formalities. And perhaps still shaking out the nerves from our last mission." He added, fibbing a little to save the younger knight some face.

"Please inform her Royal Highness that we of the Iron Roses will attend happily. You've my word as a Reliquary the letter of her request shall be law." He said, tone light and pleasant despite how much he loathed this sort of pedantic crap. But when the ruling family said jump...you didn't really get away with saying just 'yes sir'.

...All that said, the courier was very much not royalty. And, therefor, very much a viable target for a little amusement. "...I certainly hope to see you there." He said cheerily as he crossed his arms. "I'm a bit surprise the Princess would send one of her Lady's in Waiting to deliver the message." He adds, voice lilting a bit as he gauged her reaction. He very much doubted she was anything close to a Lady, in waiting or otherwise. But flirting was no fun if you didn't make an effort to flatter a bit. "I apologize Miss, what did you say your name was...?"

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

VV can attest to my hereness, though that was lacking a little while back.

Fate/Eternum

Assassin-Lucius

Lucius dutifully set up the easel in the private booth, enjoying the feeling of heavy wood as it slotted into place. God the people of this era were spoiled for choice when it came to, from his perspective, high quality equipment. Sure, it was hardly a noble phantasm's level of quality (not that he was even sure what an easel shaped noble phantasm would even be made of...) but the easel was a good oaken construction. The grain was even and healthy, free from knots, and its construction almost clinical in its cleanliness. Honestly it was amazing how much had changed since he....died?

Yeah, that covered most of the bases he was pretty sure.

Still for how much things had changed...

"...the more they stay the same..." He noted looking out from the booth and over the spectators. The crowd practically vibrated in their seats, their mewling voices that brayed for the forth coming combat drowned only slightly by the thin veil of glass that separated him and his master from the plebeians. "Hmph. Atleast in my day we conducted ourselves with a little decorum. Atleast nobodys naked and being violated by a lion..." He lamented, stepping away from the easel to allow his master to prepare her work.

Looking down at the combatants did little to ease his annoyance. So these were the legendary Knights of The Round Table? So far, not so impressive. "I thought this was to be a battle of knights? I was expecting to see the shining glory of the northern barbarians greatest heroes...not a little girl and a blonde woman in a suit." He grumbled halfheartedly. In truth he could see little wrong with either opponents form as they readied themselves. It was just he'd rather be the one doing the fighting than watching from the side lines. As grateful as he was to Master Lalaurie for bringing him back into existence, it was a...frustratingly domestic one in so far.

It was not without its upsides, sure. With no grail to fight over he could actually enjoy the little things again. Like a sense of being...and breathing! But he was a warrior and had...needs. Needs which, right now, could only be experienced vicariously.
"I'll bet a fiver on the blonde finishing it before three clashes. Ginger's out of their depth." He said idly, hoping to drag his master into a game. Already trying to sort out what sort of embarrassing nick knack he should buy to annoy her with when he won.

@Rune_Alchemist

Fate/Eternum

Lucius Septimius

• Name: Lucius Septimius
• Class: Assassin
• Appearance: The False One
• Personality: One would be hard pressed to consider Lucius an assassin at first glance. He is an open and honest sort, with an air of easy companionship to any who might wish it. He values shows of loyalty and honor and rarely actually sneaks about like his class would suggest, preferring to draw his opponents to an equal battleground when he is permitted by his master. He is, however, immensely greedy. He may try and ignore his masters orders until some form of payment (either in coins, which he seems to have an obsessive fondness for, or other bribes such as fanciful cakes or wines). And, if he feels the payment is sufficient, may even abandon his more honorable tendencies if his masters orders conflict with them, though not without a sincere apology to whomever is to be the victim. It doesn't do to be rude afterall.
  
  All that said it would be a mistake to try and bribe Lucius against his master. Once his word is given to them, his will is that of steel. No matter how much he may try to nickle and dime them.
  
  These days he's something of a lay about, content to stay out of the chaos modern life provides in favor of long naps and watching TV, especially magical girl shows.
• Stats:
  
  • Strength: A
  • Endurance: B
  • Agility: A
  • Mana: D
  • Luck: E
  • Noble Phantasm: B
• Class Skills:
  • Presence Concealment: A.
• Personal Skills:
  • And Salvius Was There: A. A rather odd ability for an assassin, but strong none the less. When Lucius is engaging an opponent, the agility stat of surrounding allied servants raises dramatically. Increasing their odds of coming to his aid unobstructed.
  • Riding:C. While the Gabiniani were predominately infantry comprised of Roman citizens, they were also supported by Auxilia of Germanic and Gallic cavalry.
  • Independent Action: B. In the service of the Pharaoh Ptolemy XIII, Lucius executed the assassination of Pompey The Great, however the means and methods were left to his discretion.
  • The Fate Of Septimius Is Not Recorded:EX. Owing to the various fates he has suffered in literature and the lack of historical evidence, if Septimius were to no longer maintain his hold on reality, either through grievous injury or lack of a master, any who interacted with him will have a different account of his fate. They will believe this account to be wholly true and no evidence, no matter how convincing, will make them believe otherwise.
• Noble Phantasm(s):
  
  • Once Under Pompey:
  • Rank: B
  • Type: Anti-Unit
  • Appearance: N/A
  • Effects: When Lucius targets a servant they subconsciously find their defenses relaxing. Their bodies regarding him as a familiar and trust worthy friend, even if their mind is perfectly aware that he is a threat.
    
    If the target is struck by Lucius while under the effect of this Noble phantasm, the spears of both Salvius and Archillas will be summoned. These weapons float about the target, attempting to stab it viciously until it is either dead, the effect is canceled, Lucius loses sight of his target, or the target takes refuge in/on a body of water.
• Alignment: Lawful Neutral
• Changes:
  
  -Removed Mana Burst as it did not suit Heroic Origins
  -Replaced 'Far From Rome' with the Ride skill, as it conflicted with canon rules of staging. Ride skill selected to better reflect the military make up of Gabiniani.
  -Removed 'Gabiniani Contract'. As it is redundant to Command seals.