Oisin McCool

Servant Rider

Heroic Spirit Name: Oisin McCool
Age of Appearance: 20
Gender: FAAAAAAAAAAAAABULOUS Male
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Class: Rider
Master: None Yet
Face Claim: Cecil Harvey (Final Fantasy IV, Final Fantasy Dissidia)

Appearance: The first thing one notices about Oisin is his beauty. When he returned from Tir ag Nog three-hundred years past when he had entered it, those seeing him were so shocked at his appearance they had to conclude that he was literally an angel from heaven.

White, the colour of his hair, and blue, the colour of his eyes, are his signature colours.

His bright white hair flows silkily over a cobalt blue headband, and always seems perfect no matter how perturbed Oisin is. In it float a myriad of precious sapphires, carefully tied with white silver almost indistinguishable from the hair on his head. The value of the stones are nearly incomprehensible, but were adorned on him in the Fae world, where such stones have no meaning other than that of beauty.

His shining, symmetrical face is literally cursed with beauty, a sister curse to the same one Diarmud’s received; however he was cursed much earlier in life.

He also has a brilliant smile, and deep, almost glowing, blue eyes.

Even his armour seems to reflect beauty before practicality, completely embossed with ivory-like silver, but it still serves its purpose well, and is form fitting, crafted by smiths from another world (Obviously not NP level). Veins of it are highlighted with iron forged with ground up Lapis Lazuli, giving a deep blue colour to these sections. Across his shoulders is bound a magnolia cape, at least on the outside.

The inside of the cape is a shifting ultramarine, which seems to contain glowing stars and fades almost into a periwinkle at the bottom edges.

The sword he uses, while at his waist, has a hilt of sapphire and pommel of diamond, and the light formed steel it is constructed of begins to approach the transparency of glass.

In short, Oisin is a beauty from another world, a man so taken by the Fae, his appearance seems to have surpassed what people see as ‘human’.

Personality:

To Oisin there is nothing above the bonds of friendship; no greater deed than to aid one’s brother-in-arms. Even against his own family, his own father, he stood with Diarmuid and Grainne. Diarmuid was his comrade and he was not about to let him stand alone. He gave them time to run away when Grainne laid a geas on Diarmuid, and played a dangerous first game of chess (In which Diarmud helped), against his father to insure he would let the two of them go freely. He contributed numerous times to their escape, and held no regrets about it. He would never abandon a friend, no matter what tides turned against him or her.

Comrades are first in his mind.

Oisin is also somewhat soft spoken, with a gentle and lyrical voice; however his counsel is valued and deep. When he was alive, if he spoke one paid attention. According to the druids, he had the gift of a voice that no one could fail to consider, such was its tone and enchantment. Apparently a gift from his mother, before she returned to being a wild beast.

He also has a penchant for tears, and many times in his life he felt no shame in crying, especially for Diarmuid.

As the poet of Ireland, Oisin spent much of his time admiring, writing, and drawing about beauty. He was known to be generous, especially to musicians, and would often teach them himself. There were also periods of time where he would venture alone to hilltops, and simply sit for days and observer the world. To him there was beauty in every movement, and every moment. FAAAAAAABULOUS can be used to describe him

Also Oisin has a geas to never undo any binding Diarmuid makes. Whether by rope, or by words.

Finally, he also enjoys instructing people in things he knows, if asked. He believes the beauty of words, and anything he knows should be shared, instead of just kept inside. While he may not be the world’s most adept teacher, he still can do a fairly good job of it.

History:
Ahhh, so you wish to hear my own tale? Gladly, I never turn down any who are willing to listen. I suppose we should start off with the hard parts to understand. My birth.

Well to start off with my mother was a deer… or a woman first, no one was really sure. She claimed a curse when a druid turned her human, but was far more at home in the form of a doe. I was never truly sure, and never given the chance to ask, all I knew was that Finn was my father, and that was the last she told me before abandoning me in the wild, returning to being an animal herself, as the druid returned her to her shape after giving birth to me. And cursed my face to be a charm to all who see it. Which I actually thought was fairly random, but it served me well in life. So I suppose my birth is as far from regular as it can get.

For a few years I lived and garbed myself in the beauty of the wild, until my father came hunting again, and found me. My hair and face was apparently the image of my mother’s, so he took me in, and named me Oisin, or young deer.

So I was Oisin McCool.

My childhood as prince of the Fianna was filled with beauty and wonder, hunting, learning, and even singing. My father saw in me talents I had never realized, and had the druids teach me many skills. All my poetry, and instrumental skills were influenced by them.

It was one of them who gave me the cape of the night’s sky, upon my induction into the Fianna. My father gave me Moralltach, the blessed blade of light. The blade destined to kill the sea god Manaan.

Of course at that time, I knew none of that. To me it was just a beautiful blade, and I only used it as such.

Although… it was also a particularly effective blade. It shirked on no armour, and was weightless in my hands. Perhaps the grace in motion and the perfectness of it were what drew me to poetry. The weapon contained the light of the stars underneath its wavy steel, and in the night could even provide light if I focussed on it long enough.

It served me well in a hundred battles, a hundred battles serving at the side of my greatest friend in life, Diarmuid. We saved each other’s lives an endless amount of time, and were as close as two men could be. We gave each other our weapons and armour as their own, held each other to Geasi, my own being to never untie anything Diarmuid ties.

We were brothers in battle. Brothers amongst the Fianna. Soldiers without equal, and our grace in battle was unsurpassable. Anything that could be done we would do for each other.

Also, we taught each other skills, and Diarmuid famously as the greatest chess-player in Eire taught me how to play, and gave me aid in my most difficult match.

And when his own face was cursed, I consoled him, as my curse was older than his, and I knew what would happen to the man.

However, his seemed more powerful than mine, a deeper curse than mine in some areas. His attracted specifically women, instead of fascinating those who looked upon him.

I told him that would get him into trouble one day, but he only laughed it off. Well… it did, it killed him. But I am jumping to the end of the next section all too fast.

My father was set to be married to Grainne, and the Fianna accompanied him, as we should. If only we had not… Well, Diarmuid was first sought out by Grainne, asking me first if I would receive courtship from her, and I declined. She was promised to my father, despite him being older than her own father.

Then she asked Diarmuid if he would court her, and he also declined. At that moment, I thought the problem was solved, and nothing would go amiss. That was until she laid a geas on him to accept, she was so taken with my battle-brother.

So… I did what I had to. My father would be after Diarmuid after this, and Diarmuid was my true family. I helped him escape that night, and flee the pursuit of my father many times. I gave him signals, met him repeatedly, administered to his wounds, lead my father away from his trail, and never fought him.

He also tied up a few people, with the strength and skill that I could only untie, but my geas held me, and I let two kings who pursued his head die in the bindings he had set upon them.

It was an endless chase back and forth, until Finn cornered Diarmuid in a tall tree, and sat there to play chess and wait for him to come down, surrounded by warriors.

So I decided to wager him were Diarmuid in the tree or not, with the game of chess. Now, this may same easy, but my father could tell the future with his soothsaying tooth, and I had… incredible difficulty, until it came down to one move.

And I agonized over it.

Until a single berry came soaring out of the heights of the tree, and struck the piece I should move. Diarmuid was with me! I could do this!

With Diarmuid’s help I won the game against my father, and he let Diarmuid go, and eventually rejoin his service. But my father let him die, and right there I challenged him, and Grainne set her sons against him.

I may have lost that duel, but my father did not kill me as his right, perhaps understanding. However Grainne’s sons rampaged the land until my father remarried Grainne, and set peace to the fighting, setting Diarmuid’s sons into the Fianna. Grainne had to make peace herself between me and my father, and I… hesitantly believed him, and accepted his apology.

When Grainne told me Diarmuid did not ask for my sword in the hunt, I wept. What had become of him that he refused to ask for my weapon, promised so long ago to be his as much as it was mine? He could have survived, had his own blade not shattered.

A single year after that, I was in a losing battle, still regretting the loss of my greatest friend and battle-brother, and my remaining comrades were laid to waste before me and Diarmuid’s sons, those that survived, pushed back the enemy. As soon as they retreated, we collapsed on the field, exhausted, spent, and still more or less lost.

It was then I saw a radiant and perfect light. A blonde haired woman, perfect in beauty, riding a snow white steed with a golden horn and was shorn with silver, wearing a crown of gold, and had silk mantle, embedded with ruby stars. She approached the battlefield, and flowers grew where she stepped on the ground, showing no signs of the scar of war.

Niamh, she announced her name as. Princess of Tir Ag Nog, the land of youth, and she had come seeking my hand, having watched me for years. As she laid hands on me, I was cleansed as if I had never seen battle, and my cares and worries were sent away.

She was beautiful. No, beautiful is such a limited word, she was perfection, but even that does not describe Niamh in the slightest.

And she was asking for my hand. I knelt to her, and she spoke of the land of youth, and its beauties, its incredibleness, and the place I would be prince of. I looked back to my father, and then forward at her. There was nothing left for me in the world, my brother gone, and everything around me reminding me of Diarmuid.

My comrades cried as I left, even my father who had never before shed tears; there shed a single drop for my parting.

So I took her offer, and mounted the Unicorn, Embarr as I would later learn, and travelled to the land of the youth. The world was perfect, except at the edges where Manannan held the sea. It was not only paradise, but a warrior’s paradise as well, and my adventures continued there, saving the Fae from Formerian Giants that Manannan had sent down to harass them.

"Delightful is the land beyond all dreams,
Fairer than anything your eyes have ever seen.
There all the year the fruit is on the tree,
And all the year the bloom is on the flower.

"There with wild honey drip the forest trees;
The stores of wine and mead shall never fail.
Nor pain nor sickness knows the dweller there,
Death and decay come near him never more.

"The feast shall cloy not, nor the chase shall tire,
Nor music cease for ever through the hall;
The gold and jewels of the Land of Youth
Outshine all splendors ever dreamed by man.”

I wrote of it once before at least, but perhaps that will satisfy some of you on the realm’s purity. It was incredible. My life was paradise like none could imagine. The sun and the stars in the sky at the same time, the moon always glowing on the horizon. I… will no longer try to write of it with words. They have only ever failed me this once. It is something that must be seen, must be felt. No poet, even accompanied by a thousand harps, could ever convey a hundredth of this realm’s incredulity.

Except for the areas tainted by Manannan. He destroyed beauty with his accursed horrific presence ruined this world, and attempted to torment the undying for all eternity.

I vowed to Niamh I would kill the unkillable, and defeat Manannan in his crystal palace beneath the sea, not let him and his many demons ravage the land anymore.

Niamh plead with me not to, and I vowed myself that I would, with or without her consent. So she gave me aid, the blessings of the fae.

She also lifted my sword into her hands, and with a light brighter than the eternal sky in the land of youth, touched the crystal blade, and the steel faded away, and the sword became like glass, with all the stars in the universe contained therein, mirroring the cape of the ages, gifted to me by a druid.

The sword was the light of Tir Ag Nog now, and contained the entire sky within it, the moon in the pommel, and the sun at the tip. When she put it in my hands, it faded into nothing, dispersing into light that existed everywhere.

With that same light she touched my armour, and it gleamed like snow under a brilliant sun, and highlighted by lines of blue, the star’s light pulsing through those lines too, like a living creature. The armour too was now light, and it only took a moment’s focus now to reforge the sword or armour from the light of Tir Ag Nog.

‘O Oisin, beauteous and garbed with truth and light,
There are none who would approach thee now.
Your arms, the sun, and your armour, the stars so bright.

Manannan, even this moment, fears the shaking bow;
The mortal wind that brings change into the realm of ever living.
Go now, blessed forever, deliver the final blow.

Mount Embarr; Give us reason for thanksgiving.
This god, forsaken and accursed, cowering in the night
Return as you are now, wind that shakes the bow, a light never vanishing.’

With those words I leapt onto Embarr’s back, and rode across the skies to the edge of Tir Ag Nog. In an instant I was at the shores, and Embarr rose to great me from the foaming water. Well at least I would not have to go to his accursed realm myself.

Moralltach was not in my hands yet, so he roared in triumph, the creature-god composed of a thousand eels, and adorned with a crown of bone-thorns. His eyes burned into mine, and for a moment, I felt fear of death in the land where mortality is never a worry.

But I shouted to greet his thousand shouts, and I reached into the skies above me, and called upon the stars, the sun, and the moon, forming the glassy crystal blade into my hand!

Manannan cowered in the brilliant presence of Moralltach, its pure light illuminating every feature on his horrific face, an embodiment of what Tir Ag Nog was not. And on Embarr, I charged the demon. He called a thousand horrible creatures from the depth, and the pure rays of Embarr’s charge made them fade before me, dying before they even came within striking distance.

The sword glowed in my hand, and each star in the night’s sky brightened in resonance, the heavens lending me all the light in the universe to strike down the being that threatened the eternal world. I struck with Moralltach, and from its tip the light of infinite stars burst forth, faster than even Embarr’s charge, and sliced through the massive demon, issuing forth from his back, and striking the very palace where his form rested in a land that needed no rest.

He fell, and broke into blackened mist, that the light from the stars dispersed, and erased all existence of.

I had killed the tormentor of the land of the youth. Something no being had ever done before, and for a moment everything had been in my power. I had been light, an instrument of it to kill a god who would doom the entire world with his final song.

I stopped that, and returned to Niamh, unharmed and untouched. She kissed me tightly, and we celebrated for an entire week, Fae beings coming from all across Tir Ag Nog, any of them in the torment of the demon had been released, as even their pain disappeared.

A few more years I waited in the land of eternal youth, until I wished to see my father and comrades again, asking this boon of Niamh and her father, the king of Tir Ag Nog. He gave me permission, but told me to never set off of Embarr`s back, or I could never return.

Niamh wept as I left.

As I crossed the border between worlds, the light of Tir Ag Nog was still with me, and I remained garbed in the crystal rainments and white armour of the land of the Fae. As I rode the gold horned Embarr, men cowered before me, calling me a word I had never heard. ‘Angel’.

The few who would talk to me expressed confusion on who I was talking about, as if they had never heard of Finn and the Fianna in their lives. It was… odd. But they lead me to a learned man, saying he would know who I was talking about. His name was Patrick, and they called him a ‘Saint’.

On my way, I saw six men, apparently weaker than those in Eire, struggling to pull up a boulder from a field. I leaned off the side of Embarr, and lifted the stone with one hand, and was about to hurl it out of sight, when the saddle belt broke, and I fell tumbling to the ground.

Embarr fled.

And I aged in an instant. In a single second I had gone from the prime of youth to a wizened old man that had to almost be carried to Patrick.

Weeping, I asked him what had befallen, where Finn was, where I was. And he said that I had returned to the right place, but Finn was almost three-hundred years dead.

That revelation almost killed me, and I perhaps would have died had the ‘Saint’ not told me that no one remembered Finn and his band of warriors, and that his god had come and converted all of Eire. So I mustered my skills in writing and poetry. I could not die till I recorded the tales of Finn and the Fianna. O Eire, how could you forget your formost warriors, how could you forget the men who gave all to protect you from death, and save the island countless times? How could you give up that for a man who preached a distant god, one who did not join on the fields of battle?

Patrick tried to convert me many a time, but how could you change the mind of a man who had seen the land of youth with his own eyes, had wedded the princess of that world, and had killed a god who threatened the entire world in that realm?

He never succeeded, and I penned the final thing I had to write, because it brought me to tears each time I thought of it. The Pursuit of Diarmuid and Grainne was my last work before parting this world…

Battle Info

~ The Sword of Manannan, Moralltach:: A sword gifted first to Oisin by his father, then had its truth revealed by Niamh. It is constructed entirely of light from another world, and is literally weightless. Were he a Saber, this would have reached phantasm level, but instead takes its place at his side. It was named after the demon it was destined to kill, the Sea God Manannan. Calling it to his hands from the empty air creates a slight flash of bright light, as it recreates itself from the light that is always present around him.

The blade itself can be seen as forged out of starlight or sunlight, and in the legend of his times in Tir Ag Nog, he learned to harness it completely, and used starlight beams as a weapon against Manannan while on the back of Embarr. In this war, as he is a Rider, it can do no such thing, but still has its mystic portents, and underneath the blue steel and crystal hilt, one can see the light of the stars shift.

This sword was the one counselled by Grainne for Diarmud to borrow for the hunt of the boar that killed him. Instead he took Begalltach, and that sword failed him in his final moments, shattering upon striking the monstrous boar.

Class Skills:

~ Riding A+:: Creatures on the level of Phantasmal Beast and Divine Beast can be used as mounts. However, that does not apply to members of the Dragon Kind. Oisin rides a God’s fae horse, gifted by his wife, an Elemental. The horse was the king of its breed, the breed being that which is modernly called a unicorn, named Embarr (Imagination).

Personal Skills: [Four personal skills maximum]

~ Expert of Many Specializations B+:: Oisin was an expert at much he put his hand to, even being compared to Lugh, including: Singing, Playing Instruments, Hunting, Poetry, Swordsmanship, Chess (Diarmud was better at this than him though), Speeches, Law, Long distance running, Knot tying (Reputedly the best in Eire at tying and untying knots.), Courtly Behaviour, Fashion consultant, Sailing, Recitation, he could act as a Shipwright, Artistry, Jewelworking, Knowledge of Herbs and Medicine, Animal Taming, Swimming, Architecture, Acting, Artistry, Stunt Riding, and the mastery of many languages. He was known as a knowledgeable counsellor, and knower of many things, and this was one of the reasons he advised his own father, even though his father was blessed as a soothsayer.

~ Protection of The Fairies A+:: Niamh’s Fairy blessing extends to him still, granting him a bonus to luck in any situation that could be considered a trial of arms. He spent 300 years with the Fae, and is almost one from association.

~ Mystic Face D+:: A face of beauty, comparable to that of Diarmiud’s, and was considered to be angelic on sight. While the face of Oisin’s did not have the same effect as Diarmuid’s on women. Instead his face was one of just angelic beauty, the type that distracted, and turned heads. The effects are similar to charm type Mystic Eyes. A magus would have resistance against this, but extended exposure to his beauty can attract even the strongest of Magi. Classifies as a ‘fascination’ type effect.

~ Truth in Grace B:: An extension of the curse of a Mystic Face, all of Oisin’s movements, and abilities, inspire a fascination type effect that lowers an opponent’s concentration. This is reflected in a lowering of all of an opponent’s skills that require mental coherence. Things like curses, blessings, and similar effects will not be lowered, but anything else will receive a one rank penalty, unless the target is immune to fascination through abilities such as Mental Pollution, Bravery, or Mad Enhancement.

This is also active when Oisin is doing any of the things listed in Expert of Many Specializations, in addition to fighting.

Noble Phantasms: [Three Noble Phantasms maximum.]

~ Embarr :: Fae Imagination :: Anti-Army (Fortress) :: The actual phantasm is the saddle winch belt Oisin wears around his waist, and when removed it can be used to call forth Embarr, the greatest of the Fae horses, otherwise known as unicorns.
A pure white steed, comparable to a Pegasus, although it flies with no need for wings. It was known to be able to pass the land and seas without ever needing to set a hoof on the ground, and is capable of travelling into the Fae Lands, specifically Tir ag Nog.

As a divine beast, Embarr himself can be killed by ‘…neither man, nor God.’ Simply, one must and is, more or less, only able to kill the rider, rather than the divine creature itself. It can also run in surplus of 500km an hour in an instant. By using the beast as protection, Oisin’s defense on Embarr is comparable to a Fortress, as suiting an Anti-Army Phantasm.

Unlike Medusa, however, Oisin must be riding Embarr for this phantasm to have an effect. Embarr cannot rampage on his own, independent of his temporary master.

~ Tir Ag Nog :: Boundary of Three-Hundred Years :: Bounded Field (Territory Creation) :: A territory creation type phantasm, given by his three-hundred years in Tir Ag Nog itself, where time passes unpredictably. Inside this field, which requires a large setup if it is to last longer than ten minutes (Think Medusa… again), time flows at strange and odd rates. Projectiles become unreliable, as anything leaving human hands is completely subject to the field. Perception of time becomes even more hampered, and an hour can feel like a day, or a day like an hour. Skill becomes off, and motions seem to ‘skip frames’ or sometimes be as if moving through water. This hugely hampers technique, and slightly decreases instinctual responses.

The world would normally correct this bounded field forcibly upon completion, but it is balanced in such a way that the differences in time, were the field ended at any moment, remain less than a second. However, because of its balance, someone with great knowledge in observations (EotM) may be able to predict and use the time shifts to their advantage.

Oisin himself can see the world in the field as a normal time, but his motions will still appear odd to someone observing him.

Anyone with Protection of The Fairies is completely immune to this, and sees the world as normal. Also a high ranked Mana Servant, such as a Caster would be able to supress the effect around them simply by sheer presence. However projectiles used by such a Servant would require extra mana to avoid the ‘skip frame’ effect.

A minor side effect of this is it causes headaches to those who remain inside it for long durations, due to the distorted observance of time.

On initial creation, (10 minute version) it only covers around a 100m by 100m area. It can be expanded, with planted runes, to up to ten kilometers by ten kilometers, but covering that much area is incredibly obvious. Basically, a strange form of territory creation, making the wall between the Tir ag Nog and this world much more tenuous.

Can be activated/deactivated and use the same placed runes, as well as set to instantly activate when another being of supreme spiritual presence (A non-Presence concealed Servant) crosses the boundary line.

Controller Info
Alias:Aela
Age:21
Gender:Female
Location/Timezone: B.C. PST
How'd You Find Us?: Nak
Roleplay Sample: [] Blah perspective changes in here a little, I know. Won’t happen on the board, just think of this as a flashback *Flails* []

“You… you…” He lacked the words for his father. What he had just let happened was horrendous! Did he really think anyone could believe it was an accident?

For the first time in his life he was bereft of words. His father had just let his greatest warrior die. Oisin’s greatest friend in the mortal world, a battle brother, sworn to die in combat with each other. There was only one thing he could do. On that hilltop, with Diarmuid’s body laying against a tree, the sound of brilliant steel sliding out of a lambskin sheathe echoed as Oisin drew the weapon that Diarmuid should have borrowed, why had he not asked? He knew it was made of better steel than Bergalltach?

“Oisin! Put down your blade!” The shout from Finn went almost unnoticed as Oisin closed the distance, for one time in his life the graceful swordsmanship that defined him abandoned, and he brought his sword down in a blow that cut the air itself to meet Finn’s rising spear.

He had never won against his father in sparring matches before this point, but now, now he felt he could. He had to win, Finn had let Diarmuid die! He could have… he could have healed him!

Another three strikes, a series of strikes that Diarmuid had taught him, aimed at decapitating his own father, brought Finn to the offense when before he had been cautious to not hurt his own son.

“You killed him!” A crushing blow that left Finn locked, his spear holding hard against Moralltach, pressing Finn towards the ground, Oisin’s whole weight behind the locked sword.

“Stop with this madness, Oisin,” Finn said from gritted teeth. His own son was desperately trying to end his life, while he was not fighting to inflict a mortal wound. The longer this lasted, the worse this would get. “Diarmuid’s death was an accident!” With a heave, and a loud shout, the massive man threw Oisin off of him, and partially down the hill and into a tree.

Still… even with this strength can I not defeat him? His mind raced back to life from the second he had blacked out after impacting the great tree. He had to continue!

He rose, unsteady. His father was king of the Fianna for a reason, a warrior-king was first of all a warrior himself. As he stumbled, reaching to grasp Moralltach, a heavy fist slammed into his midsection, breaking armour, and slamming him back against the tree he had previously smashed against.

“Haaaaah…” Oisin gasped, completely winded. He had lost. Again. When it mattered most. He could not even stand.

And yet his father would not finish him off here, instead just leaving him gasping against the tree. Standing above him with hard eyes.

“You’ll learn, Oisin. What happened here… was not on purpose. Fate decreed it.” With those words that didn’t even sound as if the man behind them believed them, Finn left, his hard boots echoing even on the soft ground.

Before Oisin could even stand, he began to crawl back to where Diarmuid lay. He can’t… he can’t be dead… Please…

Finally reaching him, he laid a hand against Diarmuid’s neck, felt the cold flesh, and then tucked his own head against Diarmuid’s bloody chest and wept. An hour passed and still he wept. Not even the rain stopped him. Only the bitter setting of the sun, and the arrival of Cailte caused his tears to cease.

“Oisin…” He felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he saw Cailte, another Fian. “We have to move him, return him home.” The gentle hand tightened on Oisin’s shoulder, and lifted him to his feet.

“We will…” He wiped away the remnants of the tears staining his face, the blood washing away in the torrents of water raining from the heavens, “We will return him home. And we will serve Grainne, whatever revenge she wants to exact. Whatever she wishes to do to Finn, our mantles will be hers.”

Together they lifted Diarmuid, bound and sheltered in both of their surcoats, and began to make their way towards Rath Grainne, to deliver the tragic news.

[]Eventually Grainne and Finn made peace, but it was not long after that Oisin went to the land of Eternal youth with Niamh. []

Well, there's a few grammar/spelling/word errors here and there, but it's nothing highly debilitating or gamebreaking, so I won't worry about it.

[1/2 APPROVED]

Someone likes Riding, I see...

All seems in order, save for a slight clarification.

How exactly does it affect instinctual responses? Would an instinct user find his own perception so whacked up because something he expected to happen actually does not, essentially rendering the skill useless?

It doesn't completely negate instinctual abilities, but instead makes it sort of slightly off, or a little askew. They might realize things a tiny bit too late, and make them feel pressed, rather than complete nullification.

But you basically described what happens. It would be folly to completely rely on the instinct, but its still useful, just feels... off, because of the time perception thing.

Hraaaaaaagh.

Approved 2/2.