<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: Kit, Sun, Queen, Rumpelstiltskin<br/><hr/><br/>"Well, if you brag with good reason, then I look forward to seeing what you can do." His grin was wild-eyed, and showed a dangerous amount of teeth that didn't quite seem right. Maybe it was those blood tattoos just acting up, though.  They sure did seem to squirm around a lot. Hopefully, this monkey-man wouldn't end up like many of the so-called champions Cu Chulainn himself has readily conquered.<br/><br/>He trailed along with the others, bringing up the rear, watching them; constantly assessing them, even as the blood tattoo was beginning to flake off of him, and dissolve into nothingness, as all things eventually faded. By the time they reached the dining room, they had stopped moving and become fixed into a pattern of warfare and strife along his cheeks and forehead. His attention lay on the Kitsune, trying to place her. However, he had rarely traveled outside of his own realm, and admittedly, was not much for studying; unless it came to battle and stratagems.<br/><br/>"And what do you smell?" He asked as he saw what might be, to some, a strange action; her scenting the air. But the thing is, there were plenty of Fair Folk who could literally scent out all sorts of things, so it neither took him by surprise, nor was it something he would miss easily.<br/><br/>When the messenger bird came crashing through the window, he was half-tempted to hurl a ball at it. But just as he was getting a hurley ball out and his stick ready to send a big chunk of metal that would just outright flatten the damned thing, as a waffle iron does to batter, it began to speak; and he stopped long enough to listen. "Hah! Death and suffering? I'm married to a<acronym title="traditional spelling of 'banshee'. Strongly associated with death">Bean Sidhe</acronym>. I know more of it than you do." He said with a boisterous laugh, dismissing the threat and invitation from Rumpy-dumpy without giving a single damn.<br/><br/>"Well, a rude guest." He picks up the dead bird, ready to throw it out the window it had come crashing through. Assuming no one stops him, he does hurl the damned thing back outside... and probably a good couple hundred feet away from the castle, despite it not being aerodynamic in the least. If he was stopped, assuming the bird was still removed, he'd continue with. "Well, let the goat-licker make his threats. In the mean time, I believe that we have things to continue."<br/><br/>He gave a flourishing, elegant bow to the Queen that was nearly painfully formal; Fae Nobility tended to like such things, and crossing the Gentry was never a good idea, even for one such as himself. Perhaps especially because of his wife. "Cu Chulainn, at your service.<acronym title="Canonically, Cu Chulainn was slain in a battle, but I/we aren't using that">The stories of my death</acronym>have been exaggerated."