The OOC thread for my Highlander game.<br/><br/>If anyone has any ideas for how we can start the game, or any ideas for what we want to include or not include from the series and/or the movies, please share them.<br/><br/>Also, I would like to keep "pairings" open with regards to sexuality. I hope this will not be a problem for anyone, and of course no one will be forced to associate romantically with anyone they don't want to. Not that sex is mandatory, either, but as prevalent as it is in the series, and this being E, I know better than to rule out the possibility.  ;)<br/><br/>And I put this in the light section, for now, but we can put the IC thread(s) in another forum depending on what it looks like we will need.<br/><br/>The characters:<br/><br/>Mariana Estevan, played by AribethAmkiir<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div class="floatleft">(http://i1087.photobucket.com/albums/j480/Erion2451/imagesqtbnANd9GcRtrFsng-vvmPwVaZv3kmmoQq9AsW_SC4X6bgZ7xo4dAAlZSj7EsA.jpg)</div>Name: Mariana Estevan<br/>Aliases: Maria Estevan, Maria Murcia, Mary Ann Estevan, Marie Ann Murcia, Marie Estevan<br/>Age: 685<br/>Birthplace: Kingdom of Castile, present day Spain<br/>Personality:  Mariana is a well educated and wise woman.  She has survived by adapting quickly, avoiding conflict, and taking advantage of her wits and charms when she couldn’t.  She has been taught and practiced swordplay since the beginning of her immortality, and knows several different styles with different swords.  She is a hot blooded and passionate woman who isn’t interested in winning the Game.  She is loyal to her friends, and doesn’t forget her enemies.  She does not follow any particular code, except for the rules of the Game, and if forced will do what needs to be done to survive.<br/><br/>Hisotry:I was born in the city of Murcia in the Kingdom of Castile in 1327.  Historians call it the dawn of the Modern Age.  The Renaissance had begun in Italy with the writings of Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio, and the artwork of Giotto.  In the neighboring kingdoms such as Aragon, neighbor turned upon neighbor over conflicts of religion.  The Papal Inquisition had been in effect for nearly a hundred years, and forced Muslim and Jew to hide or flee.  In Castile, the Muslims and Jews were not persecuted but were the type you did not associate with.  The Iberian Peninsula was still in control of the Muslims.  It is safe to assume, I was raised Catholic.  Like many women at the time, I was married at the age of fifteen to Felipe Gioate, a merchant and tradesman.  I never loved Felipe, but I tried to make him a good wife.  He always wanted children.<br/><div class="floatright">(http://i1087.photobucket.com/albums/j480/Erion2451/imagesqtbnANd9GcQHRf-EfXiHNjouiY188W3Glvv6DwBR_9gAFz_EoPEDdNgPAezE.jpg)</div>In 1348, I died for the first time.  Like hundreds of others The Black Death claimed my life.  It was only through chance that I was saved from the fire.  The woman, I would later call mentor and friend, was named Julia Aurelia a Sarmatian.  Julia took me under her wing and taught me how to survive “The Game”, swordplay, read and write Latin, Spanish, English, French, and Russian, and she taught me how to act like a highborn lady.  At the time I had met Julia she was already twelve hundred years old.<br/><br/>In 1356, I left Julia’s care and entered a monastery.  For the next fifteen years, I hid on holy ground and continued my education.  When conversation moved toward how youthful I still appeared, I knew it ws time to move on.<br/><br/>In 1490, I decided to go to court.  By that time, I had lived outside the monastery’s protection for close to a decade and had managed to find a young lord by the name of Estevan Castillo, who just happened to be the youngest son of a baron and as such had little pressure or expectation to provide an heir.  I was quite fond of Estevan, and after we wed I enticed him to take me to Ferdinand and Isabella’s court.  In the late fifteenth and early sixteenth century, the Spanish court seemed to be the center of the world.  Columbus’ voyages turned everything upside down.  Estevan and I were happy during the years we spent at court together.  It was possibly one of the happiest times of my life.<br/><br/>In 1503, I received my first quickening.  Estevan and I were on a picnic, and he was complaining that I hadn’t given him a child yet.  The feeling I had only associated with Julia until that day sent the, now all too familiar, warning sensations across my body and pulled my attention to a loan rider.  I believe he felt it at the same time.  The man initially approached Estevan, but when he came closer his eyes drifted to me.  The man drew his blade without ever introducing himself, and Estevan quickly pulled his.  I tried to persuade them not to fight.  I begged the nameless man to go.  Neither would listen.  Estevan fought bravely and even wounded the man, but in the end he was fighting an Immortal.  Even as the man’s blade was slick with my husband’s blood, I slipped a dagger between his ribs from behind.  Then, in grief and rage, I took my departed husband’s blade and removed the man’s head.<br/><br/>After that I spent some years in another monastery and when a decade passed I spent a century in England and France, attended their courts and masqueraded as a Spanish noblewoman.  Around 1745 is when I came to North America, and in 1803 I moved to California.  The gun became a close friend, and I made most of my wealth in the old west during the gold rush.  I did my part for Women’s Suffrage, marched, organized, and protested.  During the second half of the twentieth century, I divided my time between New York and Los Angeles, and in 1963 opened several preparatory schools for young women in California, Maryland, and Illinois which are still operating today.</div></div>Citlalmina, played by Caela<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div class="floatleft">(http://i980.photobucket.com/albums/ae282/caela_ecub/Brunettes/vm3.jpg)</div>Name: Born Citlalmina, Currently goes by "Kit"<br/><br/>Age: roughly 953<br/><br/>Appearance: Kit is a petite thing. She stands at only 5'1 but has a force of personality that can make her seem larger. Despite her short stature there is nothing "short" about Kit. She has long, shapely legs for her height and often highlights them with the height of the heels on the shoes she wears. The shoes also help emphasize the curve of her bottom and flare of hips that leads to a small waist, flat stomach, and firmly curved breasts. She looks out on the world from a pair of drowning dark eyes in such a rich brown as to be nearly black and is known to, sometimes, smile coyly from behind a mane of midnight hair. Depending on where she is living (and how much sun she is getting), her skin can range from a soft cream to a deep tan but is usually a soft golden hue.<br/><br/>Personality: Kit is, mostly, good natured and sweet. She honestly likes people and enjoys the press of a crowd, drawing her to large cities more often than small towns. She is honest and can be blunt to the point of rudeness if more, considerate, ways of saying something don't work first. Under the sweetness though is also an air of command that speaks of a woman used to getting her way and being listened to and a sharp mind that she has used her centuries of life to fill with a variety of knowledge that sometimes makes her seem a bit eccentric as well. She doesn't anger easily but when she does her temper can be a fearsome thing to behold.<br/><br/>Bio:: Kit, as she is known now, was born Citlalmina, daughter of an Aztec Chieftan as the Aztec Empire was taking form. Her name means "Shooting Star" and was given to her by a Priest because on the night of her birth there was an asteroid shower overhead and a few of those falling stars actually landed near enough for men of the village to bring them back and make them an offering to the Temple. The Priest declared that this meant she was destined to serve as a Priestess of Coyolxauhqui, who ruled the Star Gods. Not one to argue with a Priest, and having plenty of other daughters to marry off in political marriages, her Father was content to leave her teaching in the hands of the Priest until such time as he declared she was to be dedicated to her Goddess and she was moved from her family's home to the Temple of Coyolxauqui.<br/><br/>In the Temple she learned her lessons well,  serving her Goddess with a happy heart and rising swiftly through the ranks to claim the position of High Priestess. It was in this position that she died for the first time, not through violence, but poison. A rival for her position as High Priestess slipped a poison into her food killing her swiftly at their evening meal one night. What the rival hadn't anticipated was Citlalmina's rise from the dead and subsequent sacrificing of her rival to their Goddess.<br/><br/>After all the Goddess must want Citlalmina as her High Priestess to have survived the poison and returned her to her body from the dead!<br/><br/>From that day on her role as High Priestess was unchallenged and she served her Temple until a strange plague swept through her city and those who didn't flee, died, leaving her much alone in the world. For those that died she managed to perform last rites, sending their souls to the afterlife with the blessing of their Priestess and those items they would need to sustain them there. When her people were cared for, she gathered those items she would need to sustain herself and struck out on her own counting on her bearing and the garb that marked her as a Priestess to keep her safe.<br/><br/>Something they did until the arrival of the Spaniards.<br/><br/>With the arrival of the heathens from across the sea she felt both true terror, and the Quickening, for the first time. Fortunately for her the Quickening was instigated by an immortal garbed as a Priest himself who took the terrified native woman under his wing, and kept her safe from the predations of the soldiers he traveled with. Over time he taught her many things, Spanish, Latin, a smattering of German to read and write after the European fashion, about his God (whose worship she mimicked but never truly shared) and about what she was. Ever since her first death she had known she was different but not why, or entirely how. Now she understood that she could only truly die if her head left her neck and she redoubled her attention on the weapons lessons he taught her and, eventually, returned with him to Europe where she could study further.<br/><br/>Over time she has ranged far and wide across the world. Like many of her kind she learned to recognize items of value when she saw them and began to store them for later years when their worth would increase...and thus so would her own. Her own collection leans toward religious and military artifacts with various types of artwork thrown in to round it out when she came across something particularly beautiful that she just had to have. Her collection of swords is extensive but her favorite is her wakizashi, which seems imminently suited to someone of her own petite stature.<br/><br/>Her current residence is in (insert city here) but she has land, and homes, throughout the country if she needs to make a swift getaway.  </div></div>Emmanuelle Fabbri, played by Pumpkin Seeds<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div class="floatleft">(http://lbpress.files.wordpress.com/2012/02/haifa-wehbe-wehbe-dress-makeup-singer-hot-sexy-wawa-pics-photos-videos-1.jpg?w=410&amp;h=435)</div>Name: Emmanuelle Fabbri<br/>Age: 842<br/>Nation of birth: City state of Genoa<br/>Personality: For her the world is not a game of strength or willpower, but one of strategy.  Everyone is a piece on a game board waiting for someone with the presence of mind to move them into place.  A cynical view some might say, but Emmanuelle would only respond that her position is of the practical mindset.  She has little time for the nonsense of the philosopher or the whimsy of the faint hearted.  Born at a time when her sex placed her at the disadvantage, she has learned to seek advantage where others grew shy.  Seduction and manipulation were simply tools for her to use, along with a ruthless mind and ambitious heart.  Failure is merely a setback and fear is for the weak.  Emmanuelle is a driven woman that has blended into the background of history to speak through powerful men and craft her own fortune with their hands. <br/><br/>Softness has always been held in her heart though.  Emmanuelle half-jokingly admits to holding a special place for “fools.”  Not all of her husbands have been the rich or the powerful, as she has come down from her lofty homes to find love with the wayward and the normal.  Men for whom the world is a place of purpose and possibility, her heart has gone out to them.  Money also finds its way from her pocket to fund shelters and research.  Many times her finances have found investment into companies and ideas that hold more hope than promise.  “Pity for a dreamer,” she would call her acts but they still occur despite her tone.  Emmanuelle envies the one who can dream and even more the one capable of making their dream real.  She has come to terms knowing that her place is behind the throne, but she will gladly help the jesters that step forward.<br/><br/>Weapon of choice: For a time Emmanuelle tried to survive the Game by using other Immortals to fight in her place.  There was always someone willing to fight and seek the Quickening in her place as she deplored the art of fighting.  The method worked well until the same guardian she would use turned their sword on her one too many times.  Seduction goes only so far when the person is Immortal after all.  A few such people were put down by her charms, but reality set in that the sword would have to be taken up in her defense.<br/><br/>Emmanuelle learned the art from two influences.  Italian masters and Arabic warriors were both at her disposal to train her.  As such she has taken to wielding the falchion as her weapon of choice.  The size of the weapon is short but heavy, a good combination she finds for the tighter quarters of urban fighting.  Able to thrust and slash, Emmanuelle has developed a style of fighting that relies upon variety and trickery to ease her opponents into comfort.  Over the centuries she has proven her method and style to be superior to more traditional efforts.<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://www.antiques-arms.com/catalog/images/suc46.jpg)</div>Still, Emmanuelle does not seek to fight.  The Game will end eventually and she would rather others fight until they are tired.  Younger Immortals are often bought off or tempted away from her, while the older ones will find a quick friend with her.  Some view this method as a sign of weakness or cowardice, attempting to intimidate or outright take her heard.  The collection of swords at her estate in Italy is a testament to how difficult achieving the eight hundredth birthday can be.<br/><br/>History: I am a collector of fools.  A curator of idiots both man and woman, young and old.  They have come to me so easily over the years.  Some are innocents that have yet to see truth in the world, others so wrongfully believe they are devilishly clever.  My first husband was much like the latter.  So prideful of his wit and intellect that he thought himself the equal of so many older and wiser men.  A pretty face and sweet tongue, he had nothing between those simple little ears.  Too bad my father had so such sense either.  He heard only the honeyed words of a talented talker and saw the trappings of nobility.  Perhaps I start too late, but in truth my life is such a bore before the moment my father promised my hand to Vincheto Fabbri.<br/><br/>My father had such ambitions for our family.  A fool in his own right, but still he had the best of intentions.  There is a saying about such intentions, but I forget such things now.  So my father sold me off to the man with a pretty face and a sweet smile.  Paid good coin to the Fabbri family so that the wedding would attract the most promising prospects and my husband would make us a fortune.  Looking back I remembered being so afraid, so worried for my new beginning.  Still I knew that my father had bought a bad trade when my eyes caught sight of the ledgers.  The coin used for my wedding was the most money the Fabbri family had seen in a long time.  Credit and lenders made up the rest of those accounts.  Empty promises my husband had from merchant guilds and foreign investors.  No surprise to me then that my marriage bed was to be the rocking of a ship.  My night of virginal bliss spent listening to sailors shout encouragement to my husband.  To hear people speak of romance then, I think they would be so disappointed with the accounts.<br/><br/>Acre would be my final resting place or at least the first of many.  Alas, I get ahead of myself.  So quick a leap leaves so many questions does it not? <br/><br/>My husband was there on strict orders from his patrons in Genoa.  Crusaders had descended on Israel at the time though no actual Crusade had been called.  Tensions were rising in the West and also in the East.  Battle would be coming and so the men would need steel and weapons.  My husband had such commodities in spades and they were of fine quality I will admit even now.  So there we lived and there was tried to start our family.  Poor Acre, such a beautiful place at one time but now simply rubble.  No doubt due to the eruption of violence.  My foolish husband had failed to secure us safe passage when the Crusade was called and the blood began to fill the streets.  Vincheto died valiantly to defend my honor, showing himself a true husband in the final moments.  I showed myself his devoted wife by skewering the bastard who took my husband and earning myself a quick death to avoid more trouble.  A proper death for a noblewoman I believe, if death can be achieved with any manner of proper circumstance.</div></div>Lyla Turan, played by Azaria<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div class="floatleft">(http://www.magx.com/www/images/people/julia-stiles-laying-hay/julia-stiles1.jpg)</div>Name: Lyla Turan. Also known as Lyla Moreau<br/><br/>Age: 592 years<br/><br/>Personality: Lyla is shy, almost hiding behind her sweet smile when around new people, but her true flirty, catlike personality appears when she's among people she knows. Sometimes she has the whims to be sadistic and cruel to no limits, and sometimes very merciful that she can't bear seeing anyone, or anything in pain.<br/><br/>Background:I was born in Egypt, year of 1420. In the time of Mamluk reign, exactly in the middle of the Burji dynasty to a French father and an Egyptian mother. My mother fell in love with my father and he deceived her into a relationship that left her pregnant with me. Fleeing the scene after she told him she had to tell her family, being one of the noble Egyptians they chose to wed her to her cousin to avoid the scandal of being found pregnant or the questioning of why they killed her.<br/><br/>Growing up in the poisoned atmosphere between a mother who can't defend herself to defend me and a father I never understood his reason to hate me, even though I did feel it every time I look at my own reflection and the faces of my brothers and sisters. Knowing the truth finally when my mother decided to tell me right before she dies leaving me in the age of 10. I knew later that my grandfather was around looking for me, my "father" refused to give me to him fearing the scandal and arranged my marriage as a second wife to Sultan Barsbay. The Mamluk Sultan of Egypt at that time 4 years after my mother's death.<br/><br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://www.celebs101.com/gallery/Julia_Stiles/56954/julia_stiles_photo_104.jpg)</div>I lived with the busy Sultan for 4 years, a barren, lifeless years that ended with his death and me being returned to my father's house, who didn't know what to do with me this time so he took me in a long journey to Constantinople and sold me as a slave. I served as a slave for several masters mostly as a concubine because they valued my beauty and my noble appearance.<br/><br/> Three more years passed on me in this life until I arrived into a household of one of the great Ottoman nobles who favoured me over his own wife, which made her slip a deadly snake into our bed one night, eventually killing us both. My rising from the dead did scare the woman to her own death and I fled the scene knowing that I will be blamed for it. Taking all my jewelries with me and whatever I could carry in the silent night in a wooden box on a mule, heading to the port I booked my way on a ship that crossed the Bosphorus to Europe.<br/><br/>My life in Europe wasn't easy, even I had the money to live on my own it wasn't always easy for me. I had to move from place to place on the course of the 200 years I lived there whenever I saw the looks of suspicion at how young I always seemed and how I never age. Women asking me and priests crossing themselves whenever I passed them in the street. I fled from country to country till I ended up in France, where I had my first Quickening when I met my grandfather in an alley when I was "hunting a customer".<br/><br/>He recognized me somehow and took me under his wing, learning the truth after I told him the story of my life he started to teach me stuff. Reading and writing and how to act and dress like a lady. He also taught me how to fight, giving me my first sword and teaching me how to speak many languages. I could speak Arabic, English, Turkish, French, Latin, Greek and some Spanish. we both toured the world together for so many years until it was the year of 1939, when WWII broke and my grandfather had the urge to return to the military life, joining forces with the Axis and then simply vanished.<br/><br/>When I finally found him in some Nazi prison he was alive, but merely the shadow of his former self as the Nazi scientists had their experiments on him, I nursed him back to health and now we reside in (name of city to be determined later) as I oversee the many secret brothels I own under the coverage of one of the most successful modeling agencies in the world.</div></div>Sean Moreau, played by CAO<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div class="floatleft">(http://i997.photobucket.com/albums/af91/charlesott1982/alain_chabat.jpg)</div>Name: Sean Moreau<br/><br/>Age: 816 years<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/> Personality: Sean Moreau is driven by a sense of duty to his family and to his heritage as an immortal. Having studied science since the time of the Enlightenment Sean seeks to unlock the mysteries of what makes some humans mortal and others not. He experienced a harrowing ordeal at the hands of the Nazis, since his rescue, he has spent most of his life quiet and secluded, with only a few occasional visitors. He is quiet and he does not say much, except to his granddaughter.<br/><br/>During the 1930s Sean Moreau took up smoking, he prefers to smoke Marlboro Reds, and his favorite ethnic food is Egyptian food. Which he came to appreciate because of his granddaughter.<br/><br/>Background:<br/><br/>Date of Birth: 1196<br/>Location: Nice, France<br/><br/>Sean was born in 1196 into a wealthy and well established family of nobility. Though his original last name he left behind when he experienced his death in 1221 during the Fourth and one of the final crusades that took place in the middle east. During this time, Sean at first attempted to live as normal a life as was possible for an immortal. He spent many years wondering if he was alone, or in fact, crazy or hallucinating.<br/><br/>Sean though being older was able to married and did in fact marry several times, one of those relationships produced a son he named Ambroise, he chose the name because he thought his son might take on his characteristics. However he did not, his son became a drunkard and a philanderer,  taking on many women, and many men as his lovers and consorts. Sean in order to bring order to his sons life forced him into the army, where he hoped to see a change in the man.<br/><br/>Ambroise spent some time in Egypt and what he did there Sean did not know for some years, and his hopes were dashed when his son returned home. Upon returning home his son immediately returned to his old ways, his sons activities caused a large rift between the two, which resulted in the son committing suicide. After going through his sons things, he learned several secrets about his son he'd never knew, one of those secrets was that he had a daughter in Egypt.<br/><br/>Driven by a sense of honor and duty, Sean saught out the young lady, and spent the next two hundred years attempting to track her. Coming quite close, but never quite reaching or making contact with her in time before she moved on to the next place. It did not take long for him to realize that while his son may not have taken on his traits, his daughter had and she could be quite deadly.<br/><br/>One night while she was out hunting, Sean having learned about his granddaughter, used a lure, to get into contact with her. It was no accident that he was in the alley. In time she would come to understand this, and he took her under his wing, but in some ways, especially her viciousness, she was quite like her Father. At times between the two of them, this could cause disagreements between the two. Despite their disagreements of the past, they always manged to work them out and Sean's sense of familial duty does not allow him to abandon his family for any reason.<br/><br/>The age of Enlightenment in France changed everything for Sean, realizing the world was on the cusp of technological and scientific break through he began to study mathematics and science. In order to fund his research, his granddaughter undertook to establish high class bordellos, which in the early days was not frowned upon. Sean was also able to make some wise investments around the turn of the twentieth century that also helped them, but the bulk of their income continued to be from the bordellos.<br/><br/>In the 1920s and 1930s Sean emigrated to Germany, feeling that despite their heavy indoctrination and commitment to racial ideology. That German science was on the cutting edge, and he joined a secret research  facility dedicated to studying the human body. Though he'd developed himself as a reputable scientist, by this time.  Sean made one grave error in judgement, he let his guard down and confided in a young woman who had fallen in love with him. It turned out she was actually a spy from a rival scientist group trying to steal his information. The tables on Sean turned, and while he'd turned a blind eye to those in the concentration camps, he became one of them. Not only was Sean subject to a litteny of scientific testing, he underwent immense torture that should have killed most mortal men.<br/><br/>After the war, and his rescue by his granddaughter, Sean became a shell of his former self, he shut away his scientific research and reading. He lives in one of the rooms in the top floor of one of the secret bordellos his grandfather came to own. Each night a woman is sent to sleep with him, but it's been nearly 25 years since he last had relations with one. For now occasionally, he is also visited by his granddaughter, and soon he'll be visited by an old "friend" that will allow him to recapture his self and sense of worth and start his studies again.</div></div>Acacius Sergiopolous, played by Shjade<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div class="floatright">(http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lyankqizt61qbfge0o1_500.gif)</div>Name: Acacius Sergiopolous, aka: Case, Casey, Chase<br/><br/>Origin: Mycenae, Greece ~ 1250 BC<br/><br/>Age: 3262<br/><br/>Stats: 6'1" ~ 170 lbs. ~ dirty blond hair ~ hazel-brown eyes<br/><br/>Appearance: In a (not real) word: librarianesque. Casey's soldiering days were a lifetime ago. Several lifetimes ago, actually. He's kept in shape, sure, but he hardly has the physique one might first picture when thinking about hoplites and their ilk. He's slimmed down somewhat over the ages, trading muscle mass for tone, weightlifting for cardio. When he goes jogging on a college track he hardly looks any different from the average student: a little older, maybe, and with far cleaner stride in his form, but not so different. A small scar above his left eye creates a dimple in the eyebrow where hair will not grow.<br/><br/>Watcher Report: Acacius Sergiopolous, son of Sergio Leonidopolous and Phile (family name unconfirmed). Participant in multiple wars and war-like conflicts, among these the Dorian Invasion, first Macedonian war, first Crusade (in support of Moslem interests - possible religious motivations vis a vis personal notion of enacting will of gods), second Crusade (see previous), other assorted incidents. No indication of military or political influence since May 30, 1431, at which time began to follow more withdrawn lifestyle. Has demonstrated protective tendency toward strangers on multiple occasions up to and including use of lethal force. Attitude toward the Game unconfirmed; does not appear motivated.<br/><br/>Last confirmed kill: Sept. 5, 1877.<br/><br/>Aware of Watchers: Unconfirmed.<br/><br/>Life summary: Acacius was not yet thirty years of age when he discovered he was not like the other shepherds of his homeland. He had been chasing down a wayward member of the herd across precarious terrain and stumbled, falling more than forty feet down a rocky slope. His older brother did not find him until that night, whereupon he discovered Acacius, his clothing covered with slashes and drying blood, entirely unharmed. Neither could explain the strange occurrence.<br/><br/>Nor did they have any suitable reason for the way he seemed not to age another day in the next five years. Eight years. Twelve. Fifteen. There was no reasonable cause for such events. Or, rather, there was only one, perhaps.<br/><br/>Finding himself elevated from a simple shepherd to what he could only interpret as a chosen of the gods, Acacius did what seemed most sensible to a young man of Mycenae in his position: he asked the temple for guidance. They were disinclined to take his assertions seriously. What reason did he have to think the gods had a special purpose for him?<br/><br/>Acacius proceeded to inflict upon himself a mortal wound.<br/><br/>The priests, initially enraged by this desecration of the temple in spilling his blood within it, transformed their anger to confusion upon the realization that the young man did not appear to be dying. He was clearly in pain, true, and he bled as any man should, even appeared crippled by the damage, and yet he showed no fear, no degradation in his condition after the initial damage was done. As they watched, over the next hour, their strange visitor eventually recovered strength enough to regain his feet and once again look to them eye to eye for guidance.<br/><br/>What was he meant to do? How was he to know the purpose of this power with which he had been entrusted?<br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://26.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lyankqizt61qbfge0o2_500.gif)</div>To the priests the answer seemed clear: if he had been a protector of the herds, and was now capable of withstanding the wrath of bronze, he was meant to be a protector of the city itself. It took some doing on their part to have the unknown youth added to the military might of Mycenae as anything other than a plain soldier - not that they expected him to have command experience, but it seemed prudent to ensure his commanders understood their new "recruit" was different from the rest - but they got it done. So began his training with sword and spear and shield.<br/><br/><br/>Acacius was nearing fifty, not that he looked it, when the great cultural shift that would later be called the Dorian Invasion began in force. Though he could not say he saw what he would describe as an invasion at the time, it is certainly true that change took place, and not in a peaceful manner. Whatever gift the gods had given him was not enough to change the tide of that time of conflict. Those aware of his gift who remained in the Mycenaen power structure, upon realizing he could not single-handedly act as their salvation, urged him to flee, that the enemy would not capture him as they did the cities of Greece in their uprising.<br/><br/>So he fled. What else could he do? His family had, in large part, died out years prior. His wife was wasting away of illness and would not last much longer. He had no children to take with him, little of personal importance. He left it all.<br/><br/>It would prove the first of many world-spanning journeys in his life.<br/><br/>&lt;This section continues for several pages.&gt;</div></div>Karl Thornton, played by Beguile's Mistress<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div class="floatleft">(http://www.wearysloth.com/Gallery/ActorsD/25697.gif)</div>Name: Karl Thornton<br/><br/>Age:  Unknown but believed to be older than 900 years<br/><br/>Bloodline:  Norse &amp; Native American<br/><br/>Appearance:  His looks are those of his Native American mother and his stature that of his Norse father who was a great bear of a man.<br/><br/>Karl Thornton's origins are lost in the mists of time.  He grew to manhood in a village in Greenland among a people who were tall, fair skinned and blue-eyed.  Their appearance and the manes of flowing red-gold hair gave them power over him and his mother.  Their dark skin and eyes, high cheekbones and piercing gaze beneath brows and hair as dark as night set them apart even from his father who he knew was ashamed of him.  The stories told to him by his mother were of a land far off from which she had been carried when these men of the North climes came for timber to build their stockades and lodges.  She longed to return to her people but knew that she would die among strangers. <br/><br/>The men of the village learned war craft as soon as they could walk.  Karl watched and learned won his first combat at the age of three besting a stocky boy a year older and inches bigger.  He didn't win all of his challenges after that but was victorious more often than not and always gave at least as good as he received.<br/><br/>Co-existence was not a given but once earned he was given the respect he deserved and the name of his father, Thorvald, as a reward.  His mother passed on to the gods when he was twelve but the legacy of her stories stayed with him and at her death bed he promised a blood oath to seek out her people.  All went well for Karl until the day he cast eyes upon the daughter of the chief, a buxom girl promised to another. <br/><br/>His quickening came when the girl's suitor led a party to ambush Karl and beat him, leaving him for dead among the rocks on the side of mountain.  He had no idea of how long he dwelt in the land of the darkness that claimed him or how he came to be alive and unharmed when he awoke to searing pain and thunderous sounds that beat against his skull until he would want to tear his own head from his body.<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://www.mattfind.com/12345673215-3-2-3_img/movie/f/y/f/brotherhood_of_the_wolf_2002_500x310_782459.jpg)</div>The life of a nomad was his from that day on as with battle axe and sword he wandered the land surviving by his wits and learning all he could from whatever stray monk or priest he encountered.  He served others from time to time in payment for their knowledge and kept his promise to his mother to seek out her people.  But centuries had passed and all who knew her were dead.  There was not even a memory of her was left.<br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://i845.photobucket.com/albums/ab20/beguilesmistress/CRF_Mark_Dacascos_0232.jpg)</div>There was one story that haunted him about a totem his mother had hidden before she was taken away and one day he recognized the landmark of a rock in the shape of a fisted hand with one knuckle raised.  He followed he map she had embedded in his memory and there he found another rock with a carving of a wolf on its upraised surface.  Beneath the rock was a stone shaped like a disc with a pattern that she told him was the world and the lines drawn on it represented the unending path.  The totem had been given to her by a traveler and he wondered if that other nomad like himself was a man of infinite seeming life.<br/><br/>   <br/>Karl hungered for knowledge but avoided most men except for the holy men who were his tutors and those who sought him out to challenge him to battle.  There were not many.  Perhaps half a dozen came to wrest from him what only they could take and in the end all gave up more than they could afford.  With each battle won Karl grew stronger, quicker and more intuitive and over the years grew more comfortable in his skin. <br/><br/>Industry and technology found him ready to step out of his isolation and into the world where he made his fortune and continued learning until the present day.  He is the head of a global conglomerate with tentacles of power in science, electronics and government as well as a hidden financial empire that gave him wealth beyond imagining.<br/><br/>This is where we find him today. </div></div>Cian O'Catharnaigh, played by 1SAZ<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div class="floatleft">(http://i373.photobucket.com/albums/oo180/1SAZ/Untitled2.jpg)</div>Name: Cian O'Catharnaigh<br/><br/>Aliases: Chao Zheng, Sean MacMannus, Charlie Wade, Joel O'Leery (Current)<br/><br/>Age: 3300~ (Born roughly 500 years before Hallstatt culture recorded history)<br/><br/>Appearance: Cian appears as a man roughly of the age of 30, his body lean and toned through rigorous exercise and training. His dark hair is kept short and he is never without his characteristic five o'clock shadow. His green eyes hold a certain amount of thought to them that shows his age despite his constant youth. He often dresses in tee shirts and a pair of slacks with a dark colored suit coat, though he often wears a tan duster when out and about. He also tends to wear a pair of black framed glasses as part of his disguise, the man he took his current alias from having poor vision at birth. He stands at a staggering 6'5", though it is mostly in his legs that gives him the height advantage.<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://i373.photobucket.com/albums/oo180/1SAZ/Untitled3.jpg)</div>Weapons of choice: Celtic Anthropomorphic Sword, Smith and Wesson MP360<br/><br/>History: I was "born" before history knew there were people in my little stretch of land, in the isles that would now be known as Ireland. The bronze age as it's known I believe, but after so many years, you stop caring about such trivial matters as to what you call the era of your birth. In any case, my early life was mostly that of hunting, until my foster brother decided I was getting in his way of leading the tribe. A knife to the back isn't exactly the way one wishes to end their life, especially when that knife has an edge coated in wolfsbane and repeatedly inserted to make it seem I was struck by arrows. What can I say, my brother really disliked me.<br/><br/>They never found my body, and I don't believe they really looked that hard. The story was I was dragged off by wolves, which isn't very far off from the truth, I'll admit. I awoke from my first death as a wolf sniffed me over, looking for an easy meal. While it would have killed me again had it been well fed and stronger, it wasn't in the form you would expect of a predator. It was hungry, and looked as though it hadn't eaten in days. I barely had memory of what had befallen me, so I assumed the animal was my pet, and so I lead it to a hunting spot I enjoyed to find us both something to eat. We lived off that spot for years, my new friend gaining it's strength and growing closer to me while I regained my memories.<br/><br/>After years had passed, I returned to my tribe, only to find that everything I had known had changed, and the tribe was under new leadership, but not my brother. His decedents had become the leaders of the tribe and I was long forgotten, and the ghost of the man that made all this possible had returned without any idea what had happened. In short, I was re-accepted into the tribe under my "true" name, Cian O'Catharnaigh, and dubbed a member of the warrior class.<br/><br/>Skip forward another... what was it... hundred years? Whatever it was, it was then that I found my mentor in what would be known as Greece, a man I knew as Perseus. He taught me about The Game and The Rules, and taught me what it meant to be an immortal. I would see friends and loved ones die long before I would ever face death, and that I would be hunted relentlessly for the rest of my existence. While the world would misinterpret Perseus' deeds, the one story that they got mostly right was his battle with Medusa. The first immortal battle I had ever seen was between my mentor and an spiteful woman that the locals called a gorgon. She was really just a bitch with a knack for sculpting the figures of her fallen lovers. At least they got the removal of the head right...<br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://www.powning.com/jake/images/0torctriath1.jpg)</div>Well, that tells the story of how I learned of others like myself, but that doesn't explain how I'm still here while so many have lost their heads in my path. Now I am not saying I am the perfect swordsman or that I hunted down every immortal around. In fact, their are a few heads that are on my tally that weren't even of my claim. However, those watchers tend to just skim when they read history books. My first head was taken in China while I was under the tutelage of Lu Dongbin on how to use a blade properly. A man by the name of Zhao challenged me under my true name, and I couldn't refuse the challenge. I barely came out of the battle with my head, but Zhao was far less lucky. I took his sword out of respect for the man I didn't know, and paid for his grave marker a thousand years later once I had realized I would be around for a while.<br/><br/>Another notable death that is tied to my name is one I wish had never occurred. My first true love, an immortal from Russia named Natalia Romanov... We met in France during World War II while I was acting as a British agent aiding the resistance in Germany. I often think of the day we met in that dark alley under a hail of gunfire. Aimed at each other... And shouting curses at each other... Well, not all love stories begin with a candle lit dinner, do they? In any case, it was a love-hate relationship between the two of us, in that we would irritate the hell out of each other, only to find that we were growing closer because of it. I was going to propose at the end of the war, knowing bullets and bombs wouldn't keep us apart. However, an immortal Nazi by the name of Hans Rikter was the one thing I hadn't expected. He took her head to get back at me for taking out one of his battalions, and I took his in return. I spent the next ten years in a monastery, escaping the scars that the monster Rikter left without realizing it. It wasn't till an old friend came to find me that I left, only to realize that the world would never change.<br/><br/>I moved to America in the 50's, a move that I occasionally regret, though regret is the one constant in life, as I've learned. I served in the US military for a time during Korea and Vietnam, though it was in a support role as a medic rather than a soldier. When the nineties hit, I decided it was time to do something constructive with the money I accumulated over the course of many lifetimes, and so I found an old church that was going to be closed down in Boston, turning it into a bar. I named it Sanctuary, as it was one of the few places an immortal could come to to escape the constant challenges and have a drink without fear. What can I say, I became a softy in a couple thousand years. In any case, if you find yourself needing a place to rest before the edge of the sword draws nearer, you can have a drink on me. Just pay me back should you keep your head.</div></div>