<div class="floatleft">(https://smite.gamepedia.com/media/smite.gamepedia.com/4/4f/T_CuChulainn_CC_Card.png?version=b4322db6979213a77218f8dcdb31cbb7)</div>Who: Cu Chulainn<br/>Where: The Palace<br/>What: Interacting with People<br/>With Whom: Red, Bigby, Kit, Sun<br/><hr/><br/>Too much noise. He was interrupted, and of course made curious by the ruckus of shouting, and more quieter sounds of indoor voices; it drew him out and into the halls, where he swaggered towards the rest of the group, casually swinging the monster-bone spear around the air, producing a faint humming noise.  He was entirely mindful of his surroundings, and no harm would come to the walls, paintings, or any other such ornate decorations that would be placed in the hall as he strode towards them.<br/><br/>The spinning of the spear would stop with a resounding tap on the floor when he drew so close as to be at risk of injuring the others. He didn't particularly feel like doing that, as they didn't strike him as enemies at the moment. Enemies typically didn't banter in the hallways of the castle they were besieging; and he wasn't the only one summoned. His light armor was of a definite Gaelic design, with Celtic knots embroidered onto the cloth portions, and scenes of battle etched into the metal. His marching boots had a tendency to 'thud' wherever he went, so chances are good they heard him as he approached; if not the spear, then the boots.  He had a hurley stick strapped to his back, and a satchel at his side that click-clacked and spoke of probably-metal things hitting against each other.<br/><br/>Though he was fair-skinned, there was pure white paint on his face, not too dissimilar from the Woad often associated with the Celts... except it's white, not blue, as commonly depicted.<em>And it moves. </em>Ever-churning, changing, forming new symbols and tableau upon his flesh. War; strife; death. Symbols, and not just limited to ones from Celtic folklore, but universal ones as well. Already armed and armored for war, he also... well, if anybody has a good nose on them, they might smell something a bit akin to 'blood' on him. It lacked the coppery-tangy 'notes'. But it still was a subtle smell of death, which rather clashed with the fact that he more prominently seemed to smell of berries and the woods.<br/><br/>"So, who are you lot, then? Also got a fancy bit of paper, I take it?" His mood seemed jovial. Then, a bit more pointedly at Sun, he spoke. "You might be of Heaven, but do you really think that means anything to some of us?" But he's sizing the man up. Hmm. He had the attitude... but he looked good, hardy, strong. Skilled. Might be worth training with. By the spirits, how long had it been since he'd had even a worthy sparring partner?