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Edward introduces himself

Hmm…born in 1132.

For want of a ladder fall...

I remeber my first “death” too. I was working on a roof with a ladder. A horse was walking by, it was carrying some spears for the military. I fell from the ladder, spooking the horse. I landed on the spears, then fell out of the cart and was run over by the horse. The wheels of the cart trampled me, and I was sure my final moments were upon me. I balcked out for a moment, all that surronded me was dark. Then I came back. I was laying in the street, with a spear through my cheek. I pulled it out, expecting a swift death. Nothing happened. Noone noticed the spear in the confusion, so I got up and thanked Zeus I was alive(This was back in Macedonia). I continued my job, but a feeling was over me. I felt that Zeus would spare me, a lone mortal. Later that night, I tested my immortality. I stabbed myself with a knife, I fell from the roof, I smashed myself with a rock, I it myself ablaze with a lamp and ran for a moment, then realized I was fine. I walked camly along the streets, and the next day, I heard rumors of “The Flaming Ghost” walking the streets. That's when my forever life began.

πολεμιστής υπότροφος - The Macedonian (500 BC)

I just want to put this herer. I would be born somewhere around 500 B.C. I lived as an upperclass child in Macedon. I surrvived a fall from a horse and various other accidents. I lived quite uneventfully, outliving most of everybody I knew. After I surrvived falling in a river and being stabbed by a sharp stick through the head, people saw me as a demi-god.

I kept living, being a recluse from society. I became a legend to the people. I eventually became a tutor to the royal family. I knew Phiip was a special child, so I tutored him well. When he became King, I advised him and helped him. I led the Macedonians to counqer Greece. I became aware of my immortality when a spear peirced me through the head. I pulled it out, and continued fighting.

After Phillip's death and Alexander's coranation, I fought the Persian Empire as a spy. I led Alexander's armies into battle, and I came close to Darius myself. When I reached Persopolis, I decided to stay back and plan for my life, knwoing it would not end. When Alexander died, I knew the Empire would not last. I faked my death by suicide, then fled to Italy. I found the city of Rome, and knew I had a new home.

Proeliator Scholasticus (Roman Republic and early Imperial Rome)

At Rome, I became a prominent member in Congress. I fought against Carthage on the ocean, being stabbed three times, and 'drowning' once. I returned to Rome, living my eternal life.

When Hannibal attacked, I founght fiercely for Rome. I stood at Cannae, only making it back to Rome by playing dead. I stabbed any other surrvors I could find, to prevent my immortality from nbeing found.

I continued to fight the war, eventually being at Zama. I fought fiercely, killing all Carthagianians. I ran and ran, my throat burning from the pressure. I stabbed every single souilder I saw. I cut down a horse, then the commander pleeded for life. I slashed his throat.

I continued my life in Rome, living and living. I stayed behinfd the lines for the Third War. I later joined Ceaser in Spain. I was a friend of his, agreeing that Rome needed his help. When he led his march to Rome, I was right behind him. Men and women and children ran at me, telling for me to stop. I killed them all. Why should I care, I would outlive them anyway ?

I advised and helped Caesar, evenutally gaining prominent status in his favor. When he was killed, I readied my 'suicide'. When Pompey and Ocatavian fought, I joined Octavian. When all was settled, I enjoyed Pax Romana. I shall continue this.

The times of Imperial Rome and the early Middle Ages

I lived a peacful ife for Pax Romana. I was a rich man, living in Rome with many children and a beatufil wife. I was depressed occassionally by knwoing I would outlive them all, but I knew, life would always be there.

When Nero took power, I fled. I went to the forests of Germania, aligining with the barbarians. I waited until I heard of Nero's death, and went back to Rome.

Ecventually, I moved to Palestine, to quell Jewish rebellions. It was there I found Christianity to be what it is, a religion, not a cult. I soon became a Christian, fleeing to Germania again, where my children and past wife died. I attempted to spread Christianity to the barbarians, but they would not listen.

By Hadrian's conversion, I came to Rome, again hoping this great, new, time would last. I lived in peace again, starting a family. I lived through the rest of the many years peaceflly. When the Empire split in two, I saw the end was near. I fled to Ireland, which now, is partly my “homeland”.

I lived in variuos areas on the island, being a happy peasant, farming and rasing a family. Eventually, I met Saint Patrick, and, remebering my faith, greeted him and became his friend. He was a great man, very kindd and careful.

The Vikings, the Vikings I rememeber. They killed my family, everything I owned. After the first attack, I became a vigialnte against them. I would charge headlong into battle, throwing javelins and kicking them in the crotch. I would pull out spears and arrows from my head and torso, runniong headlong into shocked Vikings. I proclaimed myslef the Second Saint of Ireland, killing all Vikings I could find. I lived in Central Ireland, marrying a local girl and having yet another family. By the first mellenium, I was a crusader in Ireland. When the Vikings left, I stayed and continued my life.

Edward the Scholar

I left Ireland for a return to Europe. I believed by now society had rebuilt, a place whre I could thrive. As now, I saw myself as a chosen person, meant to help history and humanity rebuild from is's fualts. I traveled to England, making my backstory. I was a shiphand who fell overboard during a storm. I washed up in England after “drowning” once or twice during the swim.

I was a happy man, marrying and working as a doctor. I was able to make a good life on the Manor, gaining favor and living happily. The only “death” I can recall was a patient. He was insane, flailing and screaming. He grabbed a knife on a table, stabbing me trough the chest and body. I camly grabbed it, and stabbed him through the face. I buried him in the garden.

I eventually asked to be a knight, and was accepted due to my skill with a sword. Little did the Lord of the Manor know of my skill from the past. I fought various battles, sustaining a spear to the head or two. I soon became known as the “Revenged Soul”, for I would use the weapons that were supposed to kill me to vanquish the attackers. For the first time in my life, I was truly happy. No threats, my family safe, I was able to live. Then came William. I could do nothing to stop the counqest, I was one man. I was immortal, yes, but one man.

I was angered by the changes brought upon by the counqering. But I lived in the nation, as usual. I had lost two sons in the fighting, but I lived on. As I knew I always would.

An English doctor and a German librarian (End of the Early Middle Ages)

I soon moved to Britan and lived as a doctor there. I lived happily for many a years, around 200 if I'm correct. The land was in the Dark Ages there, and I wished to spread the world I had learned of in Europe to the masses here.

When the Norman invasion came, I was one of the few residents who fought for them. I was in William's army, just far from where he had landed. I fought my way to his army, suffering countless stab wounds and beatings. Yet I died not once, as I had before. When I reached his army, I was just in time for the battle. I had always wanted to bring culture to Europe, and now was my chance!

When the batle began, I volunteered to lead a suicide mission by my lonesome. I was odered to rush out on the battlefield, stab as many as I could before I died, then I would be honored. The dying part was the only thing that didn't work.

After England went Norman, I was loved by it's citezens. I was appointed as a powerful political figure, and made my town prosperous. My neverending rule, however, did make some suspicous. When I was asked for a birth date, I responded Posideon, never bothering to memorize new months.

The vilagers then asked me to resign after this “gaffe”, which I did. I then decided to move back to my homeland of Macedonia, but during my jorney there, I decided to settle in the HRE. It had recently defeated it's German roots, and I was welcomed as an Englishman. I set up my life as a librarian, having learned directly from the burning of Alexandira. I was also a part time soilder, one who never seemed to be mortally wounded.

Edward goes crusading (1070-1099 AD)

After a while of being a librarian, I bored of it. I soon found myself craving my old England, so I fled to Sicily where I established myself as a Catholic preist. I wasn't very religous, to be honest, but I needed a job. Not like I was going to starve to death anytime soon.

But the priest life soon proved more boring than flipping through old books that were written in a language you couldn't read. I was left to sit around and sing the same old hymns, preach the same old sermons, and be the same old bored. Some of my parishoners were a bit suprised at my lack of aging, but most of them died before they became really suspicous.

For twenty-and-five years I toiled away at that Holy life. I was ready to go run off to somewhere when the Pope declared his Crusade. I immediately signed into the forces under Robert of Flanders and set off to the Byzantine Empire.

When my army and I arrived, I was one of the few not starving to death. I was present at the oaths most of the leaders took, then when we set off the Nicaea I was among them. When the battle itself occured, I proceeded to stab many a Seljuks with thier own swords, which had already peirced my flesh as they gasped in horror. I added much blood of Turks that day to my hands. They joined the blood of many others, many, many others.

At the end of the battle, I was shocked to see the Byzantines take the fort. I soon joined the ranks of those distrustful of the Eastern Christians. My prejiduce stayed with me thorughout the campaign, though there was nothing elase to focus on.

The campaign was hard on all. For the tohers, there was starvation and thirst. For me, there was knowing that I would be forced to live on this planet for the rest of my days, always seeing more death and pain. When people suggested I was blessed due to my ability to surrvive, I responed by saying every blessing holds a curse.

When Jerusalem was reached, I was under new command following Robert going home. After the first assault, which I did not join, we were visited by a priest. He claimed the city would fall, among many toher things. I was skeptical of him, and became downright angered when he demanded a fast. Yes, I didn't need food, but I was still annoyed. After three days, I was a member of the the seige. I fought tootah and nail for the city, literally biting defenders in the arm and face to kill them. When the defenders fleed, I cheered with happiness at the final counqest.

But soon thereafter my heart sunk. I watched my fellow Crusaders murder innocent people and surrendering troops. When I saw the synagouge burn, my eyes teared as I remembered the discrimination the Christians had faced in Rome many years ago. The day after, I resigned my post. By which I mean, I ran out of the city and hoped I could find somewhere else to live.

Boredom, Boredom, and More Crusading (1100-1149 AD)

Following my flee from Jerusalem after the massacares, I went West until I reached the sea. I jumped in and swam Westward, hoping to run into a boat soon. The boats never came.

So I swam for two years back to Italy, where I claimed to have returned from the Crusades alive, and retook my postion as a preist. Some more people came to my congregation, being I was a war hero and all. Nobody ever found out about my fleeing, being a lot of men did the same during the campaign.

And so I continued the life of a preist in 1100's English Italy. The life of a preist in 1100's English Italy is not an exciting one. I was alone for long periods of time, bored and dazed. I wrote some books, nothing fancy. My life was numbingly dull. I continued this for many a years until I was ready to just run off to another life somewhere when yet another Crusade was called. Again, I answered the call.

This Crusade was not as succesful for the Crusaders or me. I wound up being captured Iberia by the Moors. I was taken to a camp where I was fed nothing and given infested conditions. My captors were shocked when I live trhough a month or two of that, so they decided to torture me. They didn't want information, they just were doing it to kill me. I was strapped to a rack and stretched. My bones snapped and broke and I would not die. My controllers decided to end this with a slice of a sword to the the throat.

You can guess how that turned out. When the Moors stood in shock and awe, I grabbed the sword and slaughtered a good three-fourths of the camp. The rest either fled or swore alleigance to me. So I became leader of a small army of twenty Moors. With this, I marched with my troops to Libson. When I reached there, I found it under Portugese control.

I was told of how the Crusade went, which was not well. I was told of the Byzantine distrust that was spreading and soon after was reminded of my own original distrsut of them. I left my Moor group in the city, where I assume they were executed. I left for my old home of England, enraged at the world and how it worked.

Ahh, Paris! Oh, Crud, Paris! (1150-1225 AD)

Following the end of the Crusade, I decided to travel to the newly founded University of Paris. I applied as a student, yet I showed such prowess I was given a title as a professor. I teached history to a large class. Many were impressed at my vivid descriptions of historical events, and how passionate I was about them.

I particularly attracted the intrest of one female who lived near campus. She was my age, and single. I began a relationship with her, and soon married. I had a great career, becoming a wealthy aristocrat, with many children. My life was very happy and calm, for many years.

My life continued for very long, with my children growing and leaving the nest, my wife dying in old age. I stayed young, though few noticed, being I was rarely questioned at the time. This continued until the French gained control of Normandy. I decided to fight for my 'native' England, fleeing to the nation.

When the Magan Carta was signed, I was joyous. However, many threats were coming my way.

An Invasion and a Plauge, Both of Which are Not Much Fun (1225-1350 AD)

After resting comfortably in England for a decade or so, I began to hear news of invaders from the East counqering what is now Russia. I was thinking nothing of it, being that they were there, and I wasn't. However, soon after reports came that they were invading Europe, ravaging and pillaging. I, being the fool I am, decided to go after them.

Now, usually in this situation, a man is less likely to survive than a horse trying to swim the world's oceans three time over. Luckily, I was immortal. In other words, my only fear was decapitation by Mongol Hordes. Still, not enthusiastic about it.

Anyway, I took myslef with Henry II the Pious to battle the Mongols. If you have read recently about history, you will guess how this turned out. I was considered one of the many dead, having my legs stabbed and shot by bows, with my face peirced by a horse hoof. My immortality at this point was almost unlucky, being I was captured by the Mongols and tortured.

I was made a slave, attacking fortified cities as suicide. The Mongols would appear shocked every single time I came back from battle with boiling tar over my head, swords in my stomach, and not a scratch on me. Eventually, they decided I was considered a liability to them, so I was slated for death by hail of arrows. Lucky for me, none landed a decapatation. I was then slated for stabbing through the chest till dead, which worked fine and dandy for me. I was finalyl tied up and thrown into a river with stones tied to my feet. When I saw my captors had gone off, I walked along the riverbed until I got to the shore.

My appearance the next day in the camp led to several Mongols having fatal heart attacks. Now I decided to have fun. I dared them to kill me in any way they wanted. A gang of several attacked at once, beating me vicously. I shrugged it off, but soon after I was run over by three horses, and a cart. Nothing occured to please my Mongol captors. I was released, going back to Europe.

After I wandered the land for a few days, I was recaptured by the same army, who attempted to kill me again. They suspected me of witchcraft and Satanism. I informed them I was a Christian, to which they still responed by stabbing me, stranlging me, and throwing me in a river.

This time I just got out, and walked off. I then wandered for God knows how long. I just walked, and walked, and walked, and walked, and walked. No home, no family. Just a lone man, forever doomed to walk.

The time I wandered for is unkown to me, but it must have been many decades. I finally found my way back to Europe, ableit unitentionally. I was in the city of Berlin, which at the time was now being ravaged by not Mongols, but a disease. The Plauge had fallen, and I was immune.

My experince as a doctor back in the Middle Ages gave me the ability to treat some people. For most, though, death was their only release from pain. I saw too many die, too many innocent die for many too many lifetimes. The Plauge of Death was one of the many things I wish I hadn't seen in Eternal Life.

Always with the Dang Rebellions ! (1350-1415 AD)

During the Black Death, I was one of the only healthy in Berlin. I was a doctor, a healer of the sick. I doubled as a barber, and tripled as a gravedigger. The latter was the most common.

Many souls were laid to rest under my hands, perhaps more than my battles with the Carthaginians. So many dead, so many dead. Some begged for Death's spirit, and I said to them, “Death is a greater gift than you could ever want, that I will never have.”

When the Plauge finally stopped, I fled to the countryside. There was noone there, not a soul. I took the town as my own. Three huts, no souls beside mine. I declared it the Land of Eternal Life, and made my own flag and currency. Any passersby (3 came in the decades I stayed there) I hid from until they were far off. It was my land, my homeland. I decided this, this three acre land in Northern Germany, was the homeland of Edward the Immortal Soul. I marked it on my map of the world, and made a permanant mark there. I buried a chest with gold pieces, far beneath the reach of any mortal. It held a note by me in English, for nayone who found it. I then left the town, forever planning and going back to it when I needed solace.

When I returned, I found that the Church had split. I was torn between my faith. I wasn't a strong Christian or Catholic, but I felt an attachment to the Church I had had for a very long time. On the other hand, the East was where I was born and became immortal. Eventually, I went with neither. I became what I call an Immortalist. I believe God lives, Jesus and others are savior, and that Immortals such as I to help the world, not as a curse. This was what I found to be true.

I soon found my way back to England, which, due to my perfect timing, was in a revolt. I found myslef with the Peasants, because I kind og landed near them. That and I just felt like a good ol' rebellion. I marched with them, ate with them, and lived with them. I also wound up being imprisoned and tortured with them. Unlike the Mongols, the English treated me well. By which I mean no decpatation threat. The gullotine wasn't around yet, lucky for me.

In due time, I was released. I found a life as a doctor, one of my preffered proffessions beside killing enemies and writing. I soon found myself combining them and wiritng medical and combat guides. I also studied plant life, and scibbled down a book of the notes. It doubled as a journal or just thoughts. I also doodled. Unfortunatley for the world and very code breaker ever, I did not have good handwriting at the time. I quietly left it one day in a library.

So far, life was good. You can suspect how long that went on for.

Viva la Renissance ! (1415-1492 AD)

After mulling around in England for a while, I decided to join the Hundred Years War. I was bored, and an immortal needs to keep his skills sharp. I fought for the English throne in France, using my ability as a immortal to quickly make it through the ranks. I sustained many bows and arrows to the chest and body, some through my head. I sometimes yanked them out used them as more ammo for battles and seiges.

Speaking of seiges, I was present at that of Orleans. I saw Joan of Arc with my own eyes, and shot at her with my own bow. I managed to hold out for a very long period without any supplies and a heckuva lot of arrows in me until I was forced to retreat by my commanding officer, saying that I needed “to rest”.

I eventually continued in the war until I faked my death in 1450. I made my way to Italy, specifically Venice. It was an amazing city, very beautiful. I stayed there, studying whatever I could find, making money as a court servant. I worked there for many years, watching the Renissance grow and flourish. I became an apprentice to Leonardo da Vinci when he fled to the city, helping create military weaponry and such. I followed him back to Florence, but soon parted ways with the great man. His many ideas were fascinating to me, and I wish he could see how they were acomplished like I did.

After my bout in Italy, I decided to travel to Spain, where I joined the crew of a man named Columbus. I went on all his voyages, landing on the New World myself. I met many natives, whom wound up enslaved or dead. I still feel great, unending sorrow to this day that I allowed that to occur. But my life would soon rebound.

Around the World After 2,080 Years ! (1492-1580 AD)

Following my landing on Hispanola, I became a colonial tradesman and guard. I came down with sickness many times, nearing and reaching fatal limits beofre coming back from the brink. I was shot through the head with an arrow during an Indian attack, but simply pulled it out and threw it out into the attacker's ranks.

Soon after this attack, I sailed back to Europe. I had heard of a Reformation against the Church, and I was willing to join it. I never had agreed with the Church, and this Luther fellow sounded good to me. When I arrived in London, I found an active joining in Lutherism, becoming a priest of the order. During that time of my life, I was a clam and happy man, raising many children. However, after nearly half a century, my superiors became suspicous of my lack of aging and I fled.

I joined a Portugese crew set to travel to the Far East I had never visited once in my Immortality. I found the land amazing, even fogetting the fact this was the completely wrong place we were going to. But Japan was still nice.

Eventually, I found my way onto the ships of Francis Drake. It was a nice trip, being I wasn't dead of diesease or drowning or cannon fire or such. Not like I was worried of it. Eventually, I returned to England, where I saw Drake be knighted and shook his hand. After that adventure, I sailed to the Colonies in England, to being life anew for the first time in the New World.

For Eeeengland ! (1703-1764 AD)

I signed up for the British military. I was enlisted as a grunt meant to soak up fire on the New England-Acadia front. My first job was to lead a group of other fighters on a guierlla raid on an enemy camp. It was at night, and we entered the camp.

I sent my group into the tents of the camp, while I headed towards the officer's cabin. I opened the unclocked door and moved in with my musket. I heard a clicking behind me. It was the officer and my group. They had decided to switch to the French side for some petty bribes. The officer was willing to do the same for me.

I moved my palm over to his hand to make the deal, then grabbed his neck and strangled him relentlessly. He fired through my stomach, but I kept on it. The other men fired at me, striking my head and body. I felt a knife go through my skull, but I ignored it as I finished killing the man. I then turned on the squad.

I killed the first two of six men with my musket. That ran out of ammo, so I beat the third to death with it. The fourth I killed with the knife in my head, the fifth suffered a heart attack. I cornered the sixth, who told me I was a foll and a coward for supporting England, and that I must be a demon since I survived the attack. I heard him calling me a demon, and then ripped off his arms and legs while he screamed.

I returned to my superirors, and reported the entire camp was dead, but my fellows did not survive. I was rewarded a promotiona and a medal for bravery.

After the war, which I left with various medals and a much higher rank than before. I joined the Navy as a ship commander, and went on an anti-piracy mission. The Golden Age of Piracy was not a good time to work against pirates. My ship encountered a pirate ship in 1723, which sported the Red Roger. Knowing nobody eould survive (well, except me) if we were captured, I began to fight.

I began my strike by swimming across the distance and climbing on board. I used my sword to behead several pirates, being I had heard of Eternals who joined their ranks. The blood began to soak the floorboards when the captain appeared. I sensed something within me, and knew he was possibly Immortal. He drew his cutlass and charged me, aiming for my neck.

I dodged him, then stabbed him through the back. When he simply turned around, I knew he was an Eternal. I tried to pull my sword out of him, but he grabbed it and threw me overboard.

As I drifted in and out of conciousness, I could see my ship sinking, and the pirates sailing away. I eventually wound up in the Carolinas in the 1730's, around the time of the Great Awakening. I became a preacher (don't ask why, I felt like it), and helped convert many people. Again, not too sure why. Hazy period.

In 1744, I rejoined the British military as the same man. They seemed a bit questioning about my age, but they just let me pass. My first mission in George's War was to help capture Louisburg. I led a squad into the fort under heavy fire. I suffered an arrow through the chest, and a musketball through the head. I made it into the fort, though. When the British finally captured the place, I was standing inside with a bunch of dead Frenchmen around me and a knife in my chest. It was awkward.

When that war ended, I stayed in the military as a senior officer. Nobody really cared about my age when I did my job. When the Seven Year's War occured, I was again called into action. I joined Washington's group duirng the Braddock campaign, and retreated with him when Braddock was dying. I myself took several bullets to the head. I eventually found myself in a French prison until the war ended, at which point I left the military and moved to New Jersey.

This Bodes Great ! (1768-1775 AD)

After my own little revelation, I decided I would find the Blood Knight and end him. I felt an obligation to God and my immortality to rid the world of his evils. I readied my sword, which I had from Macedonia. I had kept it ever since I first “died”. I had only used it once. I still remember.

It was during the Crusades. The first one. I was out in the desert, scouting alone in the desert. A nomad, a man with only rags, approached me. He had a sword, I could tell it was forged long, long ago. Older than mine. I felt a sensation, that of which I felt around other Eternals. He felt it as well, and drew his sword. He asked for battle, and I felt inclined to agree.

I did not want to fight him, I wanted him to just go on his way, but I felt a compulsion to fight, no, to kill him. We went at each other, he stabbed my abdomen, and I his throat. We both staggered back, then he slashed my throat and my legs. I threw my sword and stabbed him through the head. I could see it go clear through, but he came at me as I lay on the ground. As he was over me, and readied his blade, I sprung up and grabbed my sword. His head soon was on the ground. I went back to camp.

Back in 1768, I left my home, telling my family I was called to war. When I traced my lines later, turns out that my great-great-great grandsons were named Clanton. One of them got shot up at some Arizona town. Anyways, I set out to find the Blood Knight.

I found a ship. It wasn't currently owned by anybody…so…it was good. I traveled the ocean for a few weeks until I found the Blood Knight's ship. I climbed the ship, then waited behind a crate. A pirate came by, and I pulled him over and snapped his neck. I then beheaded him and threw his head overboard. I then jumped on top of the crate and sliced the head off of another pirate. I then proceeded to cut the head off of every single pirate on the ship, including the captain. I felt great until I went into the cabin and found out the ship had been sold two weeks before.

In my rage, I lit the ship on fire and swam out, back to shore. There I heard of American resentment against the British. I figured there was nothing better to do.

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