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I know it's last second but I want to throw my big floppy cavalier hat in!

Sorry for short-hack job, I kind of found out about this at the last second! I will gladly expand the skill fields if desired, but none of them are custom so I figure it's alright, right? Right!
Name: Grinn

Age: 168

Gender: Male

Species: Animated Doll, Porcelain.

Appearance: A doll jointed mess of porcelain and filigree in the rough shape and size of a man, with a two-faced rotating head that flips between Comedy and Tragedy. He wears a rogueish ensemble of jester-esque patchwork and motley with all the color faded away to dull grays, placing him somewhere distinctly between clown and criminal, complete with hood.

Extremely moody, he swings back and forth between elated and distraught with every twist and turn of fate.
Verbose and sing-song, his speech entertains and baffles with words chosen to be more interesting than effective.
Driven by revelry, his existence is wholly predicated upon the pursuit of the next thrill.
Scheming, a mechanical mind always looking in every nook and cranny for the next cheap laugh.
Amoral to totality, he posesses no trace or hint of anything resembling human empathy.

A toy created to entertain that has long since outlived it's maker. A simple animated jester to caper and amuse, an existence wholly undignified but not unpleasant. It has been some hundred and nine years since Guy Grinn was abandoned, and the spell that bound him to his original purpose was severed, he was given permission to "live". In that century and years to spare his own idea of what he should do with his existence have evolved significantly, but his understanding of humans has not.

It is the unfortunate nature of his existence, as something mocked and derided by its very nature, that his ability to reconcile with mankind would simply be absent. So he has in those many years become something of a rascal, a kind of trouble maker if you will, posing as human here and there now and then to carve away little pieces of dignity. He has gotten quite good at it too with all the practice, an unintentional criminal mastermind without fingerprints or breath who steals and kills whenever and whatever he so pleases.

str 3
dex 20
con 2
int 20
cha 15
mag 0


Click&Point- Grinn's entire body is psuedo-mechanical and his joints have no directional limits, so his body can move and even contort in ways no humans could ever match.

Party Trickster- Grinn is trained in all forms of conventional clown nonsense including juggling, as well as a large array of single-actor and volunteer magic tricks involving cards or small objects. His mechanical precision in the latter is in fact so good that it's virtually unmatched by any human.

Ventriloquist- Grinn's mouth does not move or produce sound, instead his voice emenates from any point within five feet of him and in any direction.

Inorganic- He does not eat or sleep, and has no need to breathe, and while his body is quite fragile he will not die from most injuries and never bleeds.

Where the Skin is Thinnest- Grinn has, through experience, learned all the easiest places to insert a blade into a human, or for that matter most other species, to cause them to die a quick death with minimal struggling. He is well practiced enough to do this from across the room too.


several decks of cards- three standard identical, one standard ornate, one rider waite tarot

throwing knives, twelve count- self explanatory, hidden all over his body in hidden pockets of his clothes.

dozen foot long trick scarves, three count- one in each of his sleeves and one inside the mouth of tragedy

confetti bomb- a potent flashbang with a confetti after-effect, hidden in the mouth of comedy.

the sack- it's burlap and its big, he has to drag it around since it's heavy.

the things in the sack- mostly junk, with some miscelaneous but useless valuables strewn in

Artifact: One of the three non-descript decks of cards, he doesn't know which, regenerates. It will always become a whole deck of 52 cards hidden somewhere on it's owners personage, even if lost completely, as long as it is not given to another person willingly in an honest exchange. The spilled or lost cards do not vanish, but they feel especially cheap and flimsy once the 'true' deck regenerates.

Shuten Douji, Fuyuki Outskirts

Einnashe Workshop ‘Lucus’, From Treetop to Treetop

"Beee suuure to hannng on nnnnnice annnnd tighhhht Darlinnnng, fufu~!" It was a routine trip for the Oni, in fact it was a big sluggish, but at the same time it was the ride of poor Ana's life. She moved from the heart of the forest and towards town in just a dozen leaps, carrying her adorable little master in her arms like a despoiled bride... After-all he had to contend with Shuten in private for the last twenty four hours and change.

It was probably some kind of miracle he was in one piece since all three of his command spells still showed on the back of his hand. Humans were both fragile and delicious yet there wasn't any of him visibly missing, she had been so well behaved... And intoxicated. The continuous giggling and the red on her cheeks pointed heavily towards the latter, as did the heavy clanking of empty gourds every time she landed.

Foriegner's Lowlands

Divine Descending Denouement (DDD) Hot Spring

She walked right into this supposed meeting with a big smile, an exaggerated and perhaps drunken sway to her step, and eyes full of laughter, still carrying her master princess-style and with no clear intention of setting him down. How opportune, it was just in time to hear herself and her darling being the subject of discussion too. No other points mattered for her, and she spoke up freely "Awww, you're ready to do alllll that just to ferret us out? Oh but that's meaaaannnnn... And unnecessaryyyy toooo. It's nnnice to be formmallly uninvited but my ~darrrrllllinnnng~ and I were alllreadyyyy leavinnnng!" She sounded every bit the disgruntled drunk, heavy slurring and constant syllabic lurches.

She raised a hand to point, just vaguely around the room in a sweeping gesture of accusation rather than at anyone in particular, and in the process dropped her master flat on his back. "You've alll ruined this place, it's noooo funnnn now! Nnnnothing to take! Noooneee to chase about! Me and darllllinnng are goinng to gooo get mmmarriiieeeed back in...." She looked own at the now floored Ana, tilting her head to the side. "...Whhhere doo yooouuuu llliive againnn?" Top class wife material, right here.

@Yukitamas@Reflection@Sageage@Kyoka@Phonic@ManyThings@Crusader Lord@BlueHelix@ReallyDumb@DostHou@Argonaut@Cu Chulainn@Paradox Witch@GreenGoat@Scallop@Seirei No Hai@Art of Fun

North Center, The Hotel Lord Byron
-Dining Room, Approaching Noon-

There was little and less that he could do but frown in response to her barrage of disappointments. He had set his sights too low, far far too low. Expecting the state of the world itself to impress her was a mistake, the enormous stature of his servant in life had been sorely underestimated. This absolutely had to be corrected, even if only in part. It was impossible to meet her high expectations in this venue, but things could still be better than they were.

As the server turned to leave Maurius' snapped his fingers, an almost deafening noise in the empty dining room that drowned out the gentle pre-canned piano from the intercom. No. That was not just the snap of fingers, there was more to it than that, a subtle echo, a strange ringing of the ears, an odd and almost imperceptible delay between the physical snap and the sound after. The abruptness of the young man's halting was almost unreal. "The house red was not satisfactory, please return with your absolute best stock." Even though the magus offered a smile as he spoke there was nothing left jovial in his lackey. There was no response at all in fact, he merely turned away with a newfound and awkward stiffness as he dismissed himself to tend to his duties.

Maurius turned back to Berserker as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "I appreciate your faith in my ability, despite my poor judgement in our current accommodations." He began to pick at his food as he spoke with a series of non-committal jabs with his fork and no other purpose than to keep his hands busy. The appetite was gone, spoiled by his failure even if it was truly inconsequential. If she could not trust him to attend her needs as ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ then why would he be capable in more proficient matters? If this kind of mistake could be made why not other more important mistakes? Never mind the fact that Maurius knew full well the two were wholly unrelated, he still could not overlook even a minor error in judgement on his part.

He caught himself in the midst of a third barbarism, playing with his food, and promptly set his fork down; Dwelling on this wold make it worse so it was best to speak. "...Though it would be dishonest if I didn't express some dismay in your assessment. Words are cheap, often free, but in the coming days I will leave no room for even the greatest of heroes to question the depths of my desire." A bold declaration and perhaps a bit premature, but the conviction with which it was delivered was a complete reversal of his moping not ten seconds prior. " No, actually, that won't do... Allow me to assuage any and all doubts of my determination before the sun next rises." And yet bolder still.

@Red Alice

Ciampino Airport, 9:15AM

A private flight, a small sized jet chartered under the name 'Remus Tulius', landed without incident, fanfare, or even the standard inspection or check-in one expected of all fights. A man and woman disembarked together with an entourage of one dozen much larger men, all in black suits sans the callow and fair leading man's gray and the long white dress of his even fairer associate.

Waiting for their arrival were two white vans and a piano black luxury car, and all three were promptly loaded with the drop-cloth covered crates from the planes underbelly. The gray man's underlings worked a startling efficiency and endurance despite the size of some of the crates while he stood by with no involvement beyond a somewhat anxious expression. Throughout the process the woman gestured grandly and spoke loudly, but the affair was else-wise silent.

After the apparent lackeys finished loading the vans, five to one van and five to another with two left behind, they drove off through the private access generally reserved for equipment rather than civilian vehicles. Each departure was spaced out by fifteen minutes, first one van and then the other, which left the four remaining standing by the exit for another seemingly excruciating fifteen minutes.

"Maurius, it's time." The gruff voice of one of the apparent bodyguards snapped the man in gray back from his idle contemplation, and he looked to see him holding open the rear door of the car and gesturing towards the backseat. Maurius Oscuro, a magus without peer in his field of study and a master in the holy grail war. The woman with him, his Servant, had already claimed the driver's seat. They departed at once and by the grace of God, or perhaps just sheer luck, evaded any polizia despite a near complete disregard for any rules of the road.

🕒 Roughly One Hour and 20 Minutes Later 🕖

The Hotel Lord Byron, 10:35AM

Everything was well ahead of schedule and beyond expectation despite the long drive, and the building was already secure once Maurius arrived. It was as simple as linking the intercom with one of his music boxes to fill the hotel with something that sounded like a pleasant mix of Vivaldi and complete submission to the magus and his cause, carried out by the crew in the first van by the time the magus had even departed. Rather than assuming direct direct control over his victims it was better to merely change the allegiance of the victims, they would be less conspicuous as themselves than as mindless drones, and more importantly make less dreary company when encountered in the halls.

With the help of the staff and other guests now procured unpacking was continuing apace and Maurius found himself with little and less to do that wasn't better done by someone brawnier and less important than himself. After a cursory security checkup and a couple other minor preparations he had made his way downstairs away from the panorama suite and the chirping of birds to meet with his servant, to make light of their quaint little holiday while they still had the chance. Once night fell they would begin war in earnest so it was best to make good use of what little time he had to properly determine what kind of person his servant really was, especially since their flight had been so short.

🕖 Roughly Thirty Minutes Later 🕐

Ground Floor- Dining Area, 11:05AM

A gloved hand deposited his next to a not quite empty plate, the pasta gone down to the noodle along with most everything else sans the arugula which he had decided must be for decoration. "So, Berserker, are these accommodations to your liking?" As he spoke he poured, a slightly dry red wine that by his metric cost thrice its worth, topping off her glass before refilling his own from emptiness. While it may have been more proper to have their server pour he was so used to drinking alone that it was second nature to simply snatch the bottle by the neck the second his glass was empty, an unfortunate barbarism poking out of his otherwise posh facade. "I would be absolutely loathe to know the hospitality of this age was..." He trailed off and took a sip, a long thoughtful sip. Maybe just a bit too long, a second barbarism. "No no, that's not right. I would be absolutely loathe to know that my hospitality was in any way lacking." He wasn't a kissass, but the quality of the drink had him feeling quite self-conscious even if there had been no complaint yet.

He took another sip, long but not thoughtful, and the glass returned to the table as their second course arrived, heralded by the smell of seared meat decorated with much harder to place but even more luxurious scents. The smell of the food alone had already done wonders to make up for the less than stellar wine. "For you sir, grilled filet of beef, wild mushroom velouté, and Swiss chard with anchovy sauce and pistachio." Despite the state of hypnosis the server was lively and bright eyed as he delivered the plate in his right hand, entirely normal and as expected to any onlooker. "...And I will be right back with a second bottle of the house red." Maurius decided then that he was too cogent of his normal habits if he had brought out house stock when asked for 'whatever you recommend', but that could be overlooked.

Tastes and recommendations aside service was especially good when you had the place to yourself, but the sea of empty tables in the hotel restaurant's otherwise lonely dining room was not the strangest thing about this scene for anyone in the know. "And for the lady we have..." Wait. What kind of a fool wines and dines a Berserker, and what kind of Berserker makes it to the second course of the meal without incident?

@Red Alice (Edited to add color to text and correct a couple grammatical issues)
Master is up! Sorry for irregular formatting, all the same data is there though but I can fix it if you really need me to. Berserker should be along shortly!

Hai hai hai HAI! Sorry for the delay on reporting in but I am that master that @Red Alice mentioned, me and BAHSAHKAH will be submitting our sheets within the next day or so, we're just ironing out the last few kinks!

Shuten Douji, Sailing Through the Air... Again

No sooner than her blade had sunk in did she hear the sound, the echoes of a single but familiar word and the air-rending sound of hurricane force winds. Rho Aias shattered and Shuten was sent tumbling into the air end over end, saved from the fatal onslaught of the new foes attack by her own slain enemies shield but not from the enormous afterblast of pure wind... And thus deprived of her meal!She shrieked in raw fury as she tumbled away end-over-end and towards the river...

But she recognized that attack too, and even now as she was flung bodily through the air she was smart enough to know full well this was not something she could easily trust Orochi to deal with unsupervised. It would be better to dismiss him now than to let him be slain. "OTOU-SAN, AWAY!" The enormous beast exploded into greasy black smoke, twisting and writhing through the air like a million tiny snakes before fading away. All that was left behind was eight little drops of Shuten's own blood, their divinity consumed by the summoning. A catalyst not entirely mundane, for it was the blood of an oni, but far less potent than if it had been straight from the source- or Orochi himself.

She crashed into the water like a tiny missile, sinking nearly to the bottom of the riverbed. She would not come up, her form astralized before it ever left the water. It was time to go check up on Ana, and figure out what this new tree nonsense was about. Maybe he would have some good news to cheer her up after this awful little farce of a battle!

<moving to the river, then if no interference back to the Lucus Workshop>
@vocab@addamas@Art of Fun
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