The Otter

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Fionn MacKerracher

---

@Raineh Daze

---

"So, have you ever had the chance to meet Lilette's daughter? She's a nice girl if you haven't, but she's jumpy, like. A real lash, too, but between the anxiety and the fact that her heart doesn't tend that way, it's a moot point...Lilette says she's always been anxious, too. I've had to chase after her into Aimlenn and drag her back to the castle, so I have." At a loss for what he'd really get up to within Merilia's other world when the others were diving into their training, Fionn had taken to maintaining his usual routine.

When he wasn't doing that, he was discussing the changes time had wrought on the castle with Cyrus.

"Oh, right, there's where me and the lads built the mill and the press for cider. Apple and pear harvest is right around the corner, so we should be able to put in a good stockpile, and it'll be good work for some of our scrawnier knights to start making cider. Might even see if I can't convince the captain to try her hand at it, although one of her maids might try and hamstring me for it."

Viora had still shot him a few glares the last time he'd crossed paths with her in the castle. Really, though, if she didn't want to get messed with she shouldn't have made the fatal error of revealing that she wasn't always so perfectly prim and proper as she usually put on.

He turned back, glancing at the other side of the yard where Edwin had once again thrown Renar down into the dirt. He wouldn't mind practicing like that, although Florian was likely going to be focusing more on Fleuri, and while Parvan's mix of magic and martial skill might appeal to him, the difference in their styles and their abilities was too stark to really give him much to work with there. Fanilly, it seemed, had already taken interest in working with Lilette—so he couldn't continue his usual studies with his normal tutor's mother.

Which didn't leave many options...until one came to mind, and he started voicing the idle thoughts habitually, with no thought given to the fact that he hadn't really given Cyrus any chance to reply to any of the rest of what he'd just been saying.

"Wait, Cyrus. You said that old man Cazt is around, aye? Think I can ask you to help me find him?"

Fate/Illuminate Histoire

Arthur Howell

---

@Octo

---

She looks at me without a hint of shame or any recognition that she's trespassing in someone else's space. No, worse than that, she turns completely, starting to walk towards me. I shrink back a bit around the corner, before she starts to speak—

"...Worry not, my lady, for the legendary knight-hero-king Ludwig II has arrived!"

My eyes narrow, and I can feel my face growing hot at the suggestion, my feet carrying me forward without any real thought behind it.

"I am not a woman!" I half-yell in protest, left hand raised ready to fight her off, right still holding the towel. I'd really rather not hit a woman, but I'm not just going to let myself get walked all over, especially not in the space I'd rented out to stay in while I was in Sako. She's got me incensed enough I'm not even bothering to hide the marks on the back of my hand.

"I'm not asking. Get out before this has to get ugly!"

Fate/Illuminate Histoire

Arthur Howell

---

@Octo

---

"Mata ne!"

I call out, waving behind me as I push open the door facing the street. The old man futher back calls something out in response, but with the sound of the city outside mingling with the noise made by those working within, I'm unable to clearly hear what he says. Not that it was likely anything important—a "see you tomorrow" or "have a nice day" or something like that, if I had to guess. He's been very welcoming so far, putting up with me dropping in every day to train for a bit.

That's the benefit of having world-wide connections, I guess. One of the trainers at the boxing gym back home is friends with the guy that runs this one here in Sako, so I was able to avoid most of the awkward questions and introductions and all that came with walking into a new gym. They'd even had someone ready to spar with me.

Now out in the muggy summertime air, I shrug, trying to adjust the pack on my shoulders a little bit, before wiping at my forehead.

"Ugh, sweaty." That's what I get for not showering at the gym. Of course, this way I could get away with still having my hands wrapped up, jogging back to where I was staying. Not long after I'd landed in Osaka, some unsightly bruises started to show up on the back of my right hand. They'd been a bit annoying to hide, and while they didn't hurt—even scratching or poking them directly didn't do anything—I've only been getting more and more concerned by them.

I really ought to see a doctor if these don't go away soon.

(I've already said that to myself three times now.)

Shaking my head, I start jogging along. The ryokan where I'm staying is about three or four miles from the gym, a bit past the far end of the city to the southeast. It's a good distance to keep the cardio up, especially coming this direction, where it's uphill. Sure, I might already be tired from running down here in the morning and then checking out the city and boxing the rest of the day, but I'm not trying to set any speed records here. Just a jog.

Left, right, left, right. In and out.

My stomach grumbles as I jog past a small street stall that's already started cooking food, even though it's only the middle of the afternoon. I know if I detour down the alley it's in there'll be a few more that are starting up the same as it—Sako doesn't really have much of a night life unlike the larger cities, and not as many businesses running quite as late, so these vendors have to start up earlier than usual if they hope to make anything before the weekend—but I can't really do that right now. I'm all sweaty, for starters, and on top of that, the owner of the ryokan is expecting me to show for dinner like I have been, and I really don't want to insult him or his business by showing up late and messy.

But, something else catches my eye.

Was that a flash of red hair, on a really tall woman?

Weird. This isn't much of a tourist town, but I remember seeing what I thought was a girl with platinum blonde hair wandering down around the shōtengai a day or two ago as well. And maybe a couple of other foreigners? Of course, there's also an old Jesuit mission church on the edge of town, and there's a few universities associated with the church overall in Japan. Maybe some of them are students coming out just to see some of the old churches?

Maybe I ought to go to it soon. It might be interesting, and I might get to talk to some of these other non-Japanese I see floating around.

I try to peer down the side street where I saw the redhead, but it's no use. With another shrug, I start jogging again.

---

Even at the relaxed pace, it doesn't take me long to get back to the inn. Walking through the grounds, I'm still delighted at how lucky I was to find a place like this—it's not a normal ryokan, with the various rooms all as part of one building. Apparently, back before Sako had really grown into much of a city, there were a few smaller villages spaced out around the general area, and the cluster of houses that had made up one of them had been bought all together and turned into a sort of decentralized inn, complete with modern power, bathrooms, and baths pulling from a nearby onsen.

Not that I was going for a bath today—maybe if I was just relaxing, but I still had to be ready in time for dinner, so it was the shower I chose this time. Hands unwrapped, clothes set aside, just washing the sweat off of me.

My hand itches.

Really itches. Why does it itch so much?

I look down at the back of my right hand, where the bruising I'd noticed before has...

Changed?

"What? How in Hell..."

I definitely need to see a doctor, but I'm not sure if it's because I'm imagining things or because the bruising is some weird rash instead. I now have an unfathomable geometric pattern stamped on the back of hand and wrist. It almost looks like it was dyed there with henna, but I know I didn't go and do that. Was I bitten by something? Did I scratch it and get some sort of parasite? Maybe that's what this is, some weird parastic infection. Gross, but not impossible to deal—

The air inside the house pops, like it was suddenly compressed or displaced, and I hear a few things falling over in the main room. I shake my hair out a bit, turning off the shower, and wrap a towel around my waist before I step out to see what's going on. My best guess is that a storm might be starting up outside, and a gust of wind blew something into one of the sliding doors, but that wouldn't really explain anything falling over, unless I'd left a window open...

I peek my head around the corner, and immediately duck back, my heart set to racing. Definitely not the wind.

There's someone in my room!

I peek again. They haven't noticed me.

They look to be my size, fiddling with the handkerchief I'd picked up when I spent a bit of time in Germany before coming to Japan. They've got some sort of...robe or cape draped around their shoulders—

That's weird.

—and they've got shining blonde hair. Another visitor, maybe, who got turned around and walked into the wrong house?

But I know I didn't hear the doors sliding open. I'm sure of it.

"Hey, are you staying at this ryokan too?" I ask, and as soon as they turn at the sound of my voice, I'm glad that I've only got my head peaking around the corner. Maybe if it was another man I wouldn't be quite as embarrassed at the thought, but a woman in the room, while I'm just out of the shower and not even properly dressed...

I don't think I'd ever be able to look on the memory without cringing. I really should have pulled on the nemaki.

"Look, you speak English, right?" I certainly hoped she did. It'd be bad if she only knew French and Japanese, or German and Japanese, or something like that. I don't know enough Japanese to get by in that sort of situation, let alone any other language. "You've got the wrong house, dude. Didn't you hear the shower going and get a clue from that?"

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Fionn MacKerracher

---

@Raineh Daze@VahkiDane@Eisenhorn@Crimson Paladin

---

Fionn paused in his fidgeting to stare down at Randon, who was in the middle of trying to undo the belt over the tunic, with an inscrutable expression. Rolan's comment hadn't gone unnoticed either, nor had Florian's nervous laugh; judging by the extra voice he could hear, the prince had joined them while he was getting so bothered by Randon's gaze. His hands came down, removing the Hundi's from his belt with a deliberate slowness as his mind rapidly tried to determine just how to react. Certainly, there were multiple targets that could prove deserving, to some extent, of the prideful anger that tried to push to the forefront—

But he grinned, lightly pushing Randon away. "Aye?" he started quietly, the tension draining from his face quickly. "Didn't get a good enough view when I was changing, eh? Tyaethe must have made you out worse than you actually are, like."

Best not to let anything going on in this strange dimension bother him too much.

He turned to face Prince Erion, speaking up more loudly. "I'm not so sure about entirely, your highness, without knowing quite how things work here. Merilia told us we won't be able to die permanently so long as we're here, so we're clearly not operating under normal rules."

Fate/Illuminate Histoire

Fate/Illuminate Histoire

Lancer

• Name: Celtchar mac Uthechair
• Class: Lancer
• Appearance: A grey, tall, very terrible hero of Ulster. Perpetually has a bit of a haggard look to him—having to oversee his weapon and fulfill his duties as one of Ulster’s champions did not always leave him the most time to attend to personal upkeep in life, and that is reflected in his appearance as a servant.
• Personality: Serious almost to a fault, and with the pride to match; a fight is not a joyous occasion for Celtchar, but neither is it one to shy away from if it should come upon him. His devotion was born purely of duty to his people and to Conchobar mac Nessa, not out of a desire for glory—though he was not nearly self-effacing enough to allow his skills and contributions to go unnoted, or to avoid a shot at claiming the champion’s portion of any feast for himself, as his pride could allow neither, even if he did not otherwise seek quarrel like many of his fellows.
  
  Indeed, more often than not he was attempting to calm and quell the artifact that he had been given to watch over, that often predicted battle on its own and had the will to fight that Celtchar instead had to control—his great spear, the Lúin Celtchair, which some said was the Spear of Lugh itself. If that were truly so, then the honour of watching over the weapon of his comrade Cú Chulainn’s true father was greater than any vainglorious deeds he might otherwise undertake. Otherwise, he was known as much for his guile as for his skill with the spear—his defeat of Conganchnes mac Dedad or the Luch Donn being proof of his wits.
  
  Alas, like many of his comrades, his life was cut short by the interweaving of fate and his own great pride. Unable to abide Blaí Briugu laying with his wife Brig Bretach, following the compulsion that was laid on him to sleep with any woman that came to his home alone, Celtchar set out and slew the man in front of both Conchobar and Cú Chulainn. To repay the murder, he was sentenced to complete the tasks that resulted in his own tragic demise, tasks that his honour could not allow him to leave undone.
• Stats:
  
  • Strength: B
  • Endurance: A
  • Agility: B
  • Mana: C
  • Luck: E
  • Noble Phantasm: Lúin Celtchair
• Class Skills:
  
  • Magic Resistance: B
• Personal Skills:
  
  • Eye of the Mind (True): A: Capable of calm analysis of the abilities of the opponent as well as the battle conditions even when in danger and deduce an appropriate course of action after considering all possibilities to escape from a predicament.
    
    Devoted as much—if not more so—to his wits as to his simple skill and strength in battle, Celtchar is adept both at gathering information and putting it to its best use, even while engaged in a fight for his life. Nothing less should be expected of any warrior of Ulster, except perhaps one who has divine blood to carry him instead of his brains.
  • Valor: B: As one of the Champions of Ulster, Celtchar is no stranger to battle, nor will he shy away from it, no matter the foe—it takes quite a lot to overcome his resolve and iron will. However, his bravery is still tempered by sense, as he won’t rush in without a plan or a weapon to see him through.
  • Honor of Suffering: C: A Skill that makes those who have it become more powerful as they are inflicted more pain. The cost used to heal injuries via magecraft or similar methods is reduced.
    
    Whether pierced in the groin with a spear, freshly raised from a magical debilitation, with his arm caught in the crushing jaws of a fierce hound with only slight protection from a supple log, or compelled to slay his own beloved dog, the pains inflicted on Celtchar could not break him; instead, they steeled his resolve and drove him to greater heights of achievement in the service of his home. However, no hero can draw strength from their pain forever—all will fall eventually.
  • Beast Slayer: C: Owing to the dangers prevalent in his time, as well as the two great hounds he had to slay to repay his murder of Blaí Briugu, Celtchar has passing familiarity with beasts, both in how to lure them and how to put them down.
• Noble Phantasm:
  
  • Name: Lúin Celtchair
  • Rank: B+
  • Type: Anti-Unit
  • Appearance: Longer than the average man is tall, even coming up to Celtchar’s own shoulder, with a blade long enough even to cut through his enemies, and at least fifty rivets studded into the haft along its length, the Lúin Celtchair is a frightening weapon to behold. The entire weapon is blackened by the flames that always threaten to blaze forth from it, and it eternally drips crimson blood from the blade, the poisonous concoction it always had to be submerged in to satiate its bloodlust long since having become one with the thirsty lance.
  • Effects:
    
    • Nigh-Guaranteed Death: Eternally dripping the vile mixture of blood and offal that had been used to keep it sated, the spear is a poisonous thing, and has the rage to match. It was said in legend that each thrust of the spear would kill a man, and the venomous mixture coating it was even enough to cut short Celtchar’s own life.
    • Flames of Rage: Much like Lugh’s own spear (which it very well may be, tamed only slightly by the passing of time), Celtchar’s lance is consumed with insatiable bloodlust, rage, and murderous intent, requiring it be kept under control at all times. If allowed, the spear itself will burst into a blazing flame, struggling against the hand that holds it to slay the nearest possible target. As a servant, Celtchar can even withstand the flame and possibly use it to his advantage—for a time.
    • Seeker of Battle: The spear lusts for battle in a way that Celtchar does not. By its very vibrations, one can possibly divine whether battle is imminent—but beyond that, if loosed entirely, the weapon attempts to seek its own kills; even in legend it was said that if cast it would kill nine men, and a king, royal heir, or chieftain would surely be among them. It is possible that Celtchar himself merely guides the spear’s bloodlust, rather than wielding it as a mortal might wield a normal blade, but this can cause him as much difficulty as it might grant any advantage.
• Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Arthur "John Snow" Howell

• Name: Arthur Howell
• Age: (almost) 19
• Gender: Male
• Appearance:
  
  
  What did you expect, honestly? He's a college-aged kid doing a gap year. He's reasonably fit. Dresses fairly conservatively most of the time. Big, expressive eyes. Adorable kid.
• Personality:
  
  Arthur is a friendly, inquisitive young man with a fairly extroverted disposition towards social interactions. Despite that, he's not always the best at them, something he's fairly well aware of—most people don't follow along well when he starts off on his own little anecdote in response to one of theirs, trying to establish a connection. And they definitely struggle once they make the mistake of talking about something he's interested in, because if he gets carried away, he just won't stop.
  
  Of course, he's aware of that, he's working on it, so most of the time he ends up staying more quiet than he might want to. Still, though, he's off on a nice vacation, he plans to enjoy it, and maybe make some new friends that he can keep up with on Skype after he goes back to the USA!
• Skills:
  • Good With Tech: Yeah, he's been around computers basically his entire life, so it's no surprise that he's pretty decent with them, knows how to research on the internet, all of that. Good with smartphones and stuff too! And all the other normal modern conveniences of life.
  • Amateur Boxer: He goes to a boxing gym back home. Dove into it harder than before for his gap year before going on this trip—he even took second place in his weight class when the three gyms back home held an amateur tournament amongst themselves! Isn't that great?
  • Quick Thinker: Does logic puzzles for fun sometimes. Usually pretty good at picking the big picture out of the little details, doesn't have much trouble coming up with a plan. Unless it's about what to go and eat. Really, way too many interesting options in this place.
  • Fast Reader: Yeah, he reads a lot.
  • Good Driver: Gotta keep those insurance premiums low, you know? Unfortunately he can't drive in Japan still.
• Abilities:
  
  Quality of Circuits: D
  Quantity of Circuits: A
  Elemental Affinity: Earth
  Attribute: Conversion
  
  
  • General Magecraft: He's technically capable, though he doesn't know it. Who knows what he might learn with a little help?
• Assets:
  
  • Laptop and Smartphone: Very important. Arthur's lifelines to his family back home, as well as the only things really enabling him to get around day to day in Japan without too much trouble—yeah, he learned a bit of Japanese, but not enough. Google translate is really important.
  • Trust Fund: He's got no clue who his dad is, but the way his mom tells it, before the man disappeared entirely during her pregnancy they decided on his name and his dad eventually set up a trust fund for the kid to be able to use once he turned 18. It's how he was able to take a gap year, and now take this vacation to Japan.
• Brief Backstory:
  
  Back before he was born, Arthur's mother—a fairly well-to-do IT specialist for a mid-sized company in Colorado—got involved in a short-term fling with who she thought was some travelling tech mogul that took a shine to her one day when they met at Winter Park Ski Resort over the holiday season. It was silly, no doubt, but they were both in their mid-twenties, having a fun time and acting like they didn't have anything to care about. Of course, they didn't always make the best decisions—and by the end of the holidays, she turned out to be pregnant. The "entrepeneur" she was with didn't care to remain around, she wasn't willing to leave, but she also wasn't willing to terminate. So, they settled somethings about the child yet to be born, and he left to go back home.
  
  Some time after that, Arthur was born. He had a simple, relatively average middle class childhood, other than being the product of a single mother who would never speak to anyone about his father. He did decently well in school, he was in the Gifted program, he didn't have a ton of close friends but he got along well with everybody. Good ACT and SAT scores, good GPA. Of course, once he graduated, his mother broke the news to him—while she still wouldn't tell him who his father was, she did reveal that he had set-up a trust fund in a fixed trust for his son, with his mother as the trustee. As he grew up the assets in the fund essentially covered child support payments and gave a nice boost for their lifestyle, but it was to be turned over to him once he finished primary school.
  
  Given that he hadn't exactly been sure that he wanted to go to college immediately after graduating high school, the news was very welcome for Arthur. The amount was such that just living off of the dividends would provide him a comfortable middle class income if he didn't even decide to work, though he wasn't so lacking in ambition as to just choose that option. However, he did choose to use it to take a gap year, and to pay for a personal trip to go and explore Japan in the weeks surrounding his birthday.
  
  Of course, little did he know, his father was a magus, and against his father's hopes, he'd inherited that aptitude. Moreover, the rebuilt Holy Grail recognized his presence and bloodline, even if it was unknown to him, just in time for the newest Holy Grail War.

Fate/Illuminate Histoire

oh yeah there's also this fool

he knows nothing

• Name: Arthur Howell
• Age: (almost) 19
• Gender: Male
• Appearance:
  
  
  What did you expect, honestly? He's a reasonably fit kid doing a gap year. He's reasonably fit. Dresses fairly conservatively most of the time. Big, expressive eyes. Adorable kid.
• Personality:
  
  Arthur is a friendly, inquisitive young man with a fairly extroverted disposition towards social interactions. Despite that, he's not always the best at them, something he's fairly well aware of—most people don't follow along well when he starts off on his own little anecdote in response to one of theirs, trying to establish a connection. And they definitely struggle once they make the mistake of talking about something he's interested in, because if he gets carried away, he just won't stop.
  
  Of course, he's aware of that, he's working on it, so most of the time he ends up staying more quiet than he might want to. Still, though, he's off on a nice vacation, he plans to enjoy it, and maybe make some new friends that he can keep up with on Skype after he goes back to the USA!
• Skills:
  • Good With Tech: Yeah, he's been around computers basically his entire life, so it's no surprise that he's pretty decent with them, knows how to research on the internet, all of that. Good with smartphones and stuff too! And all the other normal modern conveniences of life.
  • Amateur Boxer: He goes to a boxing gym back home. Dove into it harder than before for his gap year before going on this trip—he even took second place when the three gyms back home held an amateur tournament amongst themselves! Isn't that great?
  • Quick Thinker: Does logic puzzles for fun sometimes. Usually pretty good at picking the big picture out of the little details, doesn't have much trouble coming up with a plan. Unless it's about what to go and eat. Really, way too many interesting options in this place.
  • Fast Reader: Yeah, he reads a lot.
  • Good Driver: Gotta keep those insurance premiums low, you know? Unfortunately he can't drive in Japan still.
• Abilities:
  
  Quality of Circuits: D
  Quantity of Circuits: A
  Elemental Affinity: Earth
  Attribute: Conversion
  
  
  • General Magecraft: He's technically capable, though he doesn't know it. Who knows what he might learn with a little help?
• Assets:
  
  • Laptop and Smartphone: Very important. Arthur's lifelines to his family back home, as well as the only things really enabling him to get around day to day in Japan without too much trouble—yeah, he learned a bit of Japanese, but not enough. Google translate is really important.
  • Trust Fund: He's got no clue who his dad is, but the way his mom tells it, before the man disappeared entirely during her pregnancy they decided on his name and his dad eventually set up a trust fund for the kid to be able to use once he turned 18. It's how he was able to take a gap year, and now take this vacation to Japan.
• Brief Backstory:
  
  Back before he was born, Arthur's mother—a fairly well-to-do IT specialist for a mid-sized company in Colorado—got involved in a short-term fling with who she thought was some travelling tech mogul that took a shine to her one day when they met at Winter Park Ski Resort over the holiday season. It was silly, no doubt, but they were both in their mid-twenties, having a fun time and acting like they didn't have anything to care about. Of course, they didn't always make the best decisions—and by the end of the holidays, she turned out to be pregnant. The "entrepeneur" she was with didn't care to remain around, she wasn't willing to leave, but she also wasn't willing to terminate. So, they settled somethings about the child yet to be born, and he left to go back home.
  
  Some time after that, Arthur was born. He had a simple, relatively average middle class childhood, other than being the product of a single mother who would never speak to anyone about his father. He did decently well in school, he was in the Gifted program, he didn't have a ton of close friends but he got along well with everybody. Good ACT and SAT scores, good GPA. Of course, once he graduated, his mother broke the news to him—while she still wouldn't tell him who his father was, she did reveal that he had set-up a trust fund in a fixed trust for his son, with his mother as the trustee. As he grew up the assets in the fund essentially covered child support payments and gave a nice boost for their lifestyle, but it was to be turned over to him once he finished primary school.
  
  Given that he hadn't exactly been sure that he wanted to go to college immediately after graduating high school, the news was very welcome for Arthur. The amount was such that just living off of the dividends would provide him a comfortable middle class income if he didn't even decide to work, though he wasn't so lacking in ambition as to just choose that option. However, he did choose to use it to take a gap year, and to pay for a personal trip to go and explore Japan in the weeks surrounding his birthday.
  
  Of course, little did he know, his father was a magus, and against his father's hopes, he'd inherited that aptitude. Moreover, the rebuilt Holy Grail recognized his presence and bloodline, even if it was unknown to him, just in time for the newest Holy Grail War.

Fate/Illuminate Histoire

• Name: Celtchar mac Uthechair
• Class: Lancer
• Appearance: A grey, tall, very terrible hero of Ulster. Perpetually has a bit of a haggard look to him—having to oversee his weapon and fulfill his duties as one of Ulster’s champions did not always leave him the most time to attend to personal upkeep in life, and that is reflected in his appearance as a servant.
• Personality: Serious almost to a fault, and with the pride to match; a fight is not a joyous occasion for Celtchar, but neither is it one to shy away from if it should come upon him. His devotion was born purely of duty to his people and to Conchobar mac Nessa, not out of a desire for glory—though he was not nearly self-effacing enough to allow his skills and contributions to go unnoted, or to avoid a shot and claiming the champion’s portion of any feast for himself, as his pride could allow neither, even if he did not otherwise seek quarrel like many of his fellows.
  
  Indeed, more often than not he was attempting to calm and quell the artifact that he had been given to watch over, that often predicted battle on its own and had the will to fight that Celtchar instead had to control—his great spear, the Lúin Celtchair, which some said was the Spear of Lugh itself. If that were truly so, then the honour of watching over the weapon of his comrade Cú Chulainn’s true father was greater than any vainglorious deeds he might otherwise undertake. Otherwise, he was known as much for his guile as for his skill with the spear—his defeat of Conganchnes mac Dedad or the Luch Donn being proof of his wits.
  
  Alas, like many of his comrades, his life was cut short by the interweaving of fate and his own great pride. Unable to abide Blaí Briugu laying with his wife Brig Bretach, following the compulsion that was laid on him to sleep with any woman that came to his home alone, Celtchar set out and slew the man in front of both Conchobar and Cú Chulainn. To repay the murder, he was sentenced to complete the tasks that resulted in his own tragic demise, tasks that his honour could not allow him to leave undone.
• Stats:
  
  • Strength: B
  • Endurance: A
  • Agility: B
  • Mana: C
  • Luck: E
  • Noble Phantasm: Lúin Celtchair
• Class Skills:
  
  • Magic Resistance: B
• Personal Skills:
  
  • Eye of the Mind (True): A: Capable of calm analysis of the abilities of the opponent as well as the battle conditions even when in danger and deduce an appropriate course of action after considering all possibilities to escape from a predicament.
    
    Devoted as much—if not more so—to his wits as to his simple skill and strength in battle, Celtchar is adept both at gathering information and putting it to its best use, even while engaged in a fight for his life. Nothing less should be expected of any warrior of Ulster, except perhaps one who has divine blood to carry him instead of his brains.
  • Valor: B: As one of the Champions of Ulster, Celtchar is no stranger to battle, nor will he shy away from it, no matter the foe—it takes quite a lot to overcome his resolve and iron will. However, his bravery is still tempered by sense, as he won’t rush in without a plan or a weapon to see him through.
  • Honor of Suffering: C: A Skill that makes those who have it become more powerful as they are inflicted more pain. The cost used to heal injuries via magecraft or similar methods is reduced.
    
    Whether pierced in the groin with a spear, freshly raised from a magical debilitation, with his arm caught in the crushing jaws of a fierce hound with only slight protection from a supple log, or compelled to slay his own beloved dog, the pains inflicted on Celtchar could not break him; instead, they steeled his resolve and drove him to greater heights of achievement in the service of his home. However, no hero can draw strength from their pain forever—all will fall eventually.
  • Beast Slayer: C: Owing to the dangers prevalent in his time, as well as the two great hounds he had to slay to repay his murder of Blaí Briugu, Celtchar has passing familiarity with beasts, both in how to lure them and how to put them down.
• Noble Phantasm:
  
  • Name: Lúin Celtchair
  • Rank: B+
  • Type: Anti-Unit
  • Appearance: Longer than the average man is tall, even coming up to Celtchar’s own shoulder, with a blade long enough even to cut through his enemies, and at least fifty rivets studded into the haft along its length, the Lúin Celtchair is a frightening weapon to behold. The entire weapon is blackened by the flames that always threaten to blaze forth from it, and it eternally drips crimson blood from the blade, the poisonous concoction it always had to be submerged in to satiate its bloodlust long since having become one with the thirsty lance.
  • Effects:
    
    • Nigh-Guaranteed Death: Eternally dripping the vile mixture of blood and offal that had been used to keep it sated, the spear is a poisonous thing, and has the rage to match. It was said in legend that each thrust of the spear would kill a man, and the venomous mixture coating it was even enough to cut short Celtchar’s own life.
    • Flames of Rage: Much like Lugh’s own spear (which it very well may be, tamed only slightly by the passing of time), Celtchar’s lance is consumed with insatiable bloodlust, rage, and murderous intent, requiring it be kept under control at all times. If allowed, the spear itself will burst into a blazing flame, struggling against the hand that holds it to slay the nearest possible target. As a servant, Celtchar can even withstand the flame and possibly use it to his advantage—for a time.
    • Seeker of Battle: The spear lusts for battle in a way that Celtchar does not. By its very vibrations, one can possibly divine whether battle is imminent—but beyond that, if loosed entirely, the weapon attempts to seek its own kills; even in legend it was said that if cast it would kill nine men, and a king, royal heir, or chieftain would surely be among them. It is possible that Celtchar himself merely guides the spear’s bloodlust, rather than wielding it as a mortal might wield a normal blade, but this can cause him as much difficulty as it might grant any advantage.
• Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Fionn MacKerracher

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@Raineh Daze@VahkiDane@Eisenhorn@Crimson Paladin

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While Fionn had been somewhat concerned about having regular clothing for any trip around Talderia, he'd been more concerned for the sake of the others, Fleuri in particular; letting one of the most proper knights in their band wander around in his arming jacket and hose, extra laces dangling everywhere, would be unacceptable. No matter how clean they were beneath the armour. If anything, that just served to confuse him—before he decided to chalk it up to just another strange feature of this other-world Merilia had pulled them into.

Thankfully, they'd managed to find something he was comfortable wearing as well, so he wouldn't have to decline his own suggestion and walk around dressed for battle.

As they walked, he trailed at the rear of the group, taking in the various sights as Florian pointed them out. He didn't have much of an opinion on meeting Prince Erion aside from the thought that the rest of the group really ought to be around as well—but the decision was made before he'd even thought it might be necessary to voice it, and Florian led them on to the castle.

Ah, well. What's the worst that can happen?

As they stood and waited for Florian to return, it seemed the answer to that question came in the form of Randon's shameless, appraising stare. For the first minute, it was easy enough to ignore. Going into the second, Fionn found himself trying to avoid acknowleding the Hundi's presence whatsoever, resisting the urge to try and adjust his clothes under the gaze. He turned his head away, trying to peer down his own back as much as possible. It wasn't like he was wearing anything outrageous, after all. A thin shirt, simple trousers, and a thicker tunic over the shirt, his sword and dagger belted at his waist. The most stand-out trait any of the clothing had was that the hems of the tunic were trimmed with a different cloth.

The fit wasn't perfect—it was tighter across the chest than it ideally should have been, but it was nowhere near the level of what Cyrus had chosen to wear and tear. There weren't any stains on it that he could see, either, nor on the trousers. What, then, could Randon have seen?

At the third minute he turned around entirely, still looking down his back. "There's a hole somewhere I can't see, aye? That's what you're staring at?" he asked Florian's tagalong, finally breaking the silence. "Or are the seams pulling out around the collar and shoulders? What is it, Randon?" Fleuri, Rolan, and Sergio were well and truly forgotten by that point as Fionn's agitation only grew. He'd been the one to bring up finding proper clothes for them to wear, after all, trying to maintain their reputations as knights and the reputation of the Iron Roses overall; he couldn't well show up to meet with a long-dead prince looking like he'd only learned how to dress himself the day before.

"Really, you couldn't have told me if something was wrong before we came all the way out here?" he grumbled. "I can't well meet with a prince with my tunic pulling itself apart, like. Come here, help me find where the seam is trying to tear!" As he gave his command, he lifted his hands up, pulling at the shoulders of the tunic and turning his head back and forth trying to peer down like before.

Absorbed enough in trying to find whatever flaw he thought Randon was looking at that he didn't even notice Florian and Prince Erion had arrived just before he spoke up about the prince.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Fionn MacKerracher

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@Raineh Daze@VahkiDane@Eisenhorn@Crimson Paladin

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Fionn glanced from Fleuri over to Rolan and Sergio, before looking back at Fleuri. For the moment, he was unwilling to acknowledge that he'd just run into Florian (and one of his Hundi paramours) so soon after just telling Cyrus to keep an eye out for the man. Better to focus on something else other than the wasted words.

"Do they have spare clothes for us here?"