Peter introduces himself : From foundling to monastic knight to drifter

Well, wouldn't you know it… I'm not the only immortal guy in the world ! (for a moment his face has an expression that is a mix of awed disbelief and shock)

OK, seems it's time to introduce myself : Born sometime in the late 1280s in one of the eastern comitates of Hungary. I never knew my parents and was raised at one of the Hospitaller monasteries of the country, until I was 18. Then I got bored by this way of life and escaped, but got killed by a band of outlaws when I was 23. Since then, I've died at least 17 times (yeah, I'm not the best swordsman). Even though I usualy just try to survive and live a peaceful life these days, I've fought in at least 15 wars and numerous battles (the only time I got killed twice was on the eastern front in World War One - first by a stray mortar shell, then by a bullet in the head). As for cold steel weapons, I prefer simple one-handed arming swords and falchions most of the time, but have a smaller hand and a half sword for times of need. In public, I rarely go armed (if you don't count a Swiss army knife in my pocket as a weapon). Well, that's me. And don't anyone of you dare to double-cross me and chop my head off when I'm not looking !

(NOTE: The final sentence shows Peter's inexperience with the Trust and the ways of the Eternals. At the time, he assumed that the real Eternal community works on the same principles as the Immortals from the Highlander franchise. Turns out that Eternals don't duel everytime they meet…)

The Trust is surprised by Peter's unwitting dodging of other Eternals until 2010, Peter reveals some more details about his hectic life

Gregorios: Born in 1280 and not know about the Trust until now? What have you been doing with yourself?

Peter: Just goes to show I never even knew about any other Immortals up until now (though I had a few suspicions). No matter… I'm a quick learner… Hm. Did I possibly violate any established rule ? (If there are any rules at all ?)

Bosch: No, you didn't. But you have an impressive record of not dying and of avoiding accidents (which would explain why we did not find you). The Eternals' Trust… Established by Bosch and others in 1569 as a way for immortals to locate and support each other. Their primary activities are commercial, locating and helping young immortals, maintaining accounts and resources for immortals to use regardless of their cover identity in the world and generating covers as needed; and research, focusing on what causes immortality and on long-term projects. For example, with the rise of space travel, the Trust has established a base on Mars and maintains a runaway spacecraft if Earth becomes inhospitable. In the past, the Trust has also dispensed justice against immortals. The Blood Knight episode was the most prominent.

Peter: Fascinating. Now I understand why I never heard about it the first time. I was taken prisoner by the Ottomans in 1567 while defending the kingdom's southern border (ironcally, it was in modern day southern Slovakia, dontchaknow). I spent another 30 years in the Ottoman Empire, living there for a while even after I became a fully respected citizen again. Then I went to North Africa and stayed there for 10 years, before going to India, the Himalayas and then China for another 14 years. I only returned to Europe in 1625, when a lot of things had already changed : The Thirty Year's War was in full swing and Hungary was experiencing more noblemen uprisings combined with the Turkish menace then ever before.

Naturally, I didn't age a single day. And I discovered I love travelling around the world. Oh, I still remember the early 19th century, when I served on the Beagle during Darwin's expedition (I could fake quite a lot of English accents back then, having lived in England since the 1780s). I especially loved our stay on the Falklands and the Galapagos. One of the most magnificent archipelagos I ever saw…

Peter (1290s - late 1300s AD)

I was born sometime in the late 1280s in one of the eastern comitates (shires) of Hungary. Recollecting memories from the times before my first ever Eternal regeneration is hard. Some documents from the monastery I grew up in date my probable time of birth as in or around AD 1287. My benefactors from the Hospitaller monastery brought me up since my earliest childhood, when I was a helpless semi-foundling brought to the monastery and order station by two young, unknown parents. This backwater base of the order of the Knights of Saint John became, for better or worse, my new home and new family until I reached adolescence. I gained a basic education and training in close combat, including a decent amount of fencing and spearfighting. When I grew older and more understanding, my orphaned nature brought me no joy, certainly. But, were I peasant boy, with my parents dead and not having chosen this monastery, I would never have got that much helpful education. I would never have acquired the combat skills that would often save lives (my own included) and, sadly, also take many of them.

I don't remember where and when I decided to leave the order for good, but I did so at some point in the late 1310s. It was not the best of times for the realm. The House of Árpád had died out unceremoniously by the end of the previous century and the country was up for grabs by foreign heirs to the throne, however distant a claim they might have had. In the first decade of this new century, the country gradually fell into what was effectively a civil war, with several of the wealthiest magnate families creating their own small kingdoms-within-a-kingdom in all but name.

Despite their alliances, they were all vying for the royal throne - or at least for an heir to it that would be a gullible enough puppet ruler, fully under the influence of the mightiest houses. Though the first two pretenders to the throne had failed rather miserably and became brief episodes in this two decades long struggle, the Anjou one that came from Naples - still a young boy, younger than me - would have none of that meddling of the magnates. Whether it was by good or ill fortune, I left the monastery and entered the wider world at a time when a new, open escalation of this, this… game of thrones… was due to escalate with all of its loud glory and all of its violent horror…

As a Hospitaller in training, I was rather sheltered from the goings on of the outside world. When I overheard talks about petty, earthly politics, and occassionally learned a thing or two about them, it was often only years later that I had learned of the true scope of those trying times. And into this world I was headed, into this increasingly unstable land I had thrust myself into… with no fear… Initially.

The details of my escape ellude me, it was so long ago. What I do remember is taking a decent, but light enough kit with me, and that I had stolen one of the better palfreys we had. 'Thou shall not steal' I honour and have always honoured, but, as they often say, 'Even the greatest saints sin seven times a day'. I travelled the world, making a living by doing menial jobs at people who took pity on me, or even by occassionally defending unarmed travellers from possible threats that awaited them along the road. I gradually accustomed to the harsh realities and beauties of everyday life, I made love with a tavern wench here and there, ran into the usual troubles and usual good luck…

One day, I underestimated my lone travels on a road through a region troubled by raids and mounting poverty. I had gotten ambushed by robbers and bandits before, but this time, I made a few serious mistakes that made me easy prey for a certain local band. I defended myself as best as I could, but I was already rather tired and the mob had simply overpowered me. They beat me to death and stabbed me several times for good measure. As my consciousness was slipping away, I tried to muster up the last traces of willpower to utter a single, brief, silent prayer… This was it. This was the end. I would fall prey to the desperate prey of wars, bad seasons, poverty and bad decisions. The vicious circle continued, but my heavenly award for this wretched life in the imperfect material world hopefully awaited me. Just as I was taught from childhood. I confess, while I was terrified, alone, my body being robbed of valuables and dying fast, I was somewhat calm and even joyous, hoping for the best, hoping I'd enter the fold of souls guarded by the Father and Son and all their heavenly helpers. As I hoped for this and my mind burnt out like an old tallow candle in a monastery chamber, the darkness engulfed me.

I remember little of what followed after I drew my last desperate, tortured breath. Even as I try to dig deeper into the farthest nooks and cranies of my mind and memory, I only find brief flashes, tiny little fragments and shards of visions. Visions, dreams, nightmares, a cornucopia of ominous as well as reassuring weirdness and… what seemed like prothetic visions of things to come in my life… Split-second glimpses of peoples and cities and worlds and technologies and art yet to come, yet to be seen… by me !

This being my first ever death and first ever regeneration, it was fairly fast and dramatic. And though I don't remember any images of how the bandits reacted to this mysterious turn of events, I do faintly recall muddled cries of terror and shock, the swiftly paced thumping of scared feet, and the loud clink of coins as my pouch fell back on the road, dropped by one of my killers. I came to after quite a long amount of time, at least several hours. It was already night time. I collected all of my posessions that I could find, moving slowly. Then I noticed it. There was something off about my… wounds… Or the lack of them ! I was dizzy and disoriented, so I tucked myself in a warmer and drier place as much as I could and waited out that horrid, almost ghostly night. When I woke in the morning, I found my horse in some nearby woods and checked whether I had everything with me. With nothing seemingly robbed from me and my wounds gone, I eventually decided that the whole robbery and murder I had experienced were just some very bad dream (probably due to sleeping out in such cold water and me not having eaten that day, since my supplies had ran thin). I took to the road again. Nevertheless, I decided to be more careful from now on, and develop some tricks to fool any would-be pilferers and cutthroats that would want to attack me or my fellow travellers. At the time of these events, I was roughly 23 by current estimates. You can probably see where this is going and why I look 23 to this day…

Later that year, I accidentally tripped in a forest in the mountains. Fatal mistake, but also a lucky mistake. I kept rolling down the slope, hitting trees and bushes and the occassional rock outcropping, pummeled and torn, hoping that this cruel reward for my foolhardy steps on the forest path would end soon. And then I hit some larger than average boulders, passing them, with the earth beneath me suddenly ceasing to exist, slipping away… My hands were writhing like those of a little girl's rag doll, trying to grab at least one of the larger stones before it was too late. Slip, slip, sliding away. I fell, fell through the air, already bruised and utterly hopeless. I'd like to think that my whole brief life had flashed before my eyes and that I had uttered a prayer or plea to God at that moment. But, I might have just as well cursed, yelled from the top of my lungs and cried like a little baby… for those mere few seconds, before I hit the ground. I hit it hard. I fell into darkness. Again.

And though my last ever feeling before I entered that darkness was that some of my limbs had apparently broken off and that my skeleton was shattered to a pulp, I… I eventually woke up ! Again, I was rather dizzy and disoriented, but less so than the first time. And I was in the same place as the one where I had fallen to. I tried to explain this experience away with common sense, but it was no use. I began to fear and tremble. Was the reaction of those robbers justified, was I some witch or warlock or other unholy aberation, without knowing it ? What… What was going on ?!!!!

Nervous and scared for days after that, I decided to do a minor… experiment. Suicide is sinful, I was taught (and even today, I think it's not a good or honourable way to go, whether sinful or not). But I had to test this… I impaled myself on my own sword. I waited until I bled out and lost consciousness again. I woke up, the sword next to me, as if pulled out of me by an unseen person or force… Still bloody. But my body… without wounds, as healthy as ever !

And thus, my life began to change… I learned to live with my gift, and decided to use it to my advantage. But to never misuse it… And, for a time, I adopted a pseudonym. I adopted a name known in English as 'Michael'.

Toothpains and broken jaws

(listening to a discussion of Eternals about their regenerative abilities, including the regrowing of teeth)

I'm only cca 730 years old, but they always regrew when I lost them (and fairly quickly at that). And believe me, I lost quite a few of them, particularly during my involvement in the Hussite wars back in the 15th century. More than I could count… In one case, I lost all of them at once - kind of predictable when they amputate your entire mandible with a morgenstern on the battlefield…

Peter confesses to the Trust about his "Sightings of Kate" experiences

On a more serious note : There was one really weird indicia I had all these years, all these centuries… about not being completely unique.

You see, I had a girlfriend back in the 15th century. We were planning to get engaged, but she met a rather gruesome death… I'd rather not talk about it in detail. But then… in 1538, more than a hundred years after her death…

I saw her again.

I think it was her. She looked… well, exactly the same, at least as far as facial features go. I tried to follow her, but she gave me the slip. I then wrote it off as just a hallucination or something…

But then I saw her again in 1654.

And 1747.

1886.

And 1962.

And I always felt unsettled when that happened. At first, I thought it was just my imagination, or that I saw a ghost. But after the 1886 incident (when I literally bumped into her on the street), I stopped doubting. She is somewhere out there. She sowed the first greater doubts about the whole uniqueness thing into my mind… And now I know it's all true. And I hope to find her and meet her some day.

Bosch: Hmm … where were you when you knew her the first time? We could see if she's one of the Trust.

Peter: Well, she was from Prešov in eastern Slovakia, born around the start of the 1390s (if she wasn't just bluffing, with her whole family and herself being more longer-lived Eternals from somewhere else). Her name was Kate and the family name was German in origin (I think), but I don't remember it clearly. A lot of people knew her under her childhood nickname, “The Jackdaw” (pretty straightforward, since she had dark hair).

Well, you could search if she's employed by the Trust, but I don't think you'll be all that succesful. She and her family really could have been just a bunch of much older Eternals who made up their whole background and kept erasing all of their more suspicious traces in case they felt threatened.

In pursuit of a Jackdaw...

Garrick: I met a woman who went by the name Jackdaw many years ago in London. We did not work together for long, but I always felt a strange kinship when we did.

Peter: Unresolved sexual tension, perhaps ? (cheeky grin) Sorry, I kid. (friendly smile) I dunno, maybe some Eternals can sense each other. I'm not sure, since I'm a newbie in the community and don't even know what it feels like when you sense someone of equal power. BTW, nice bio you have. Reminds me about finally posting my own in TL format.

Garrick: I know often when I meet an Eternal for the first time I feel that I know them from somewhere before, or at least should do. Maybe that is more of a personal emphatic talent than something general amongst the eternal population.

Well, I thought it would be best to outline where I had been and as who first before going into depth.

Also, I know this is a private forum but some of the stuff I have been involved in (and still am in some cases) would probably be best to keep even from other Eternals, such as how I was involved with the Blood Knight and the details of my own operations.

Suffice to say though I have worked with and supplied funding to the trust for many years now, I have my hands in many pockets, and I think the police would be very interested if they found out half of what I know of the running of many crime families.

Peter reminescences about his service in the Czechoslovak Air Force

(the Eternals are discussing their past motor vehicles, he joins in)

While you fellows are mostly concerned with cars, I flew a few of these babies :

(shows picture of a biplane)

Avia B-122. Ah, yes, the “Wasp”, as they called her. Had a crapload of versions and variants, some even sold to countries abroad. Our first dates weren't smooth affairs, I assure you. But I soon became pals with this little old trainer and it taught me everything I'd need to know before moving on to proper military training. So, I owe my flying career to this insect. God bless.

(shows picture of sleek open canopy biplane fighters)

Avia B-534, Mk IIIs. They still lacked a canopy and some of the final features, but were a joy to fly. Manoeuverability was excellent. Though not as swift as a Zeke, for instance, but it could still fly like a swallow ! Fairly good acceleration too, though the maximum speed wasn't very high. I started test flying these in the mid 30s, in '35 or '36, can't remember when exactly. We had a few stationed at Kamenica nad Cirochou airfield, where I served before the war broke out.

(shows picture of a closed canopy version of the previous fighters)

Avia B-534, Mk IV. What is there to add ? This was love at first sight, though I didn't take this classic for a proper spin until years later, when the war was in its final phase. I flew a few sorties for the Insurgent Air Force. Those three kills with this nearly obsolete old lady were hard earned, but well deserved. Later on, I was relegated to bombing duties and the gal was adopted by Mr. Cyprich, a rather well-known fellow in national flying circles, you might have heard of him. About a month later, when the force had run its course and I eventually had to return to the infantry and help them with their retreat, I heard a Mr. Cyprich and the gal made one final kill. On a Junkers Ju.52, if I remember clearly. A nice derniere before the force and the uprising were disbanded. Years later, I read that historians procclaimed it the last kill done by a biplane in WWII. Good gal ! (he smiles, with a hint of happy nostalgia) I never met ol' Cyprich again, but I heard he died not that long ago, in 2009…

(shows picture of a large open canopy biplane, presumably a light bomber)

Letov Š-328. Truth be told, I didn't fly these light bomber beasties in the interwar period all that much. It was all the more demanding getting used to them when I was flying for the Insurgent Air Force in 1944. Gotta say, I was quite succesful. Though I'm not that proud to admit it, the mothers of at least one truck and armoured car column worth of Gerries had a good reason to weep once I did that bombing run in the middle of September. One of my cleanest, most accurate runs ever, they just started popping and burning like some sort of firecracker dominoes… The aftermath was pretty gruesome, I really charred them heavily in a lot of places. The memories are still there somewhere, in the back of my mind, hidden in that large inner library of nightmarish memories I try to keep locked most of the time… I've seen some crap and misery during the many centuries - and, sadly, quite a bit of it was inflicted by me. (for a moment, his expression becomes a bit melancholic and gloomy) I'm glad I stopped meddling in wars after the Iron Curtain went down. I'm a tired old soldier in a young body and I've had enough for one lifetime…

I did some airline piloting after the war, once I emigrated to the West, but I grew tired of it fairly quickly. I haven't flown much since. If we ever finish that rover and get to building one of those concepts… Still need to tweak them… I might fly again for the first time in decades. Huh, never would have guessed that I'd be the first ever aviator on Mars… (he smiles)

Peter reminescences about the cars he's driven over the years

As for cars…

While I was on a bit of adventuring in Germany during the 1880s and had a rather unfortunate unintended run in with the empire's secret police (long story, trust me), I made one of my escapes in something not too dissimilar to this.

(shows picture of an 1880s motor carriage)

Yes, as much as I am ashamed to admit it, my first ever experience with the posession and driving of a car was not very legal… (he blushes, smirks a bit)

(shows picture of a Tatra 57)

Well, my first legally owned car was a Tatra 57 “Hadimrška”, which I bought in the… early 30s, I think. Very similar to the one above, it also had a nice “wooden”-looking paintjob on the outside. Reasonably cheap car for the era, but it still cost a minor fortune. It served me well though. Pity I had to sell it during WWII, before I sneaked back into Slovakia in '44 to fight in the Uprising. Couldn't bring it back with me, obviously. Once the war was looming, the car received a one way ticket to Switzerland and then further west, with me behind the wheel.

During the early Cold War, I had a light blue Citroen DS for several years (almost identical to the one on the image below). Probably the fanciest motor carriage I've had so far.

(shows picture of a Citroen DS)

I had a thing for excentric cars back then. (he grins)

It got a bit expensive and conspicuous later on, so I sold it and bought a second hand SAAB 96 at the turn of the 70s and 80s.

(shows picture of a late SAAB 96)

Pretty solid, one of the versions from the second half of the 70s, wasn't too used. Very similar to the one on the image. Came with a car radio and a casette player ! One really odd memory I have about the car radio was when I was tuning it once during the early 80s. I was bored, turned the dial over to a different station, and I first heard… well, a certain new Canadian band who had just struck it big with a song of theirs. Pity it was their only international hit ever. A one hit wonder, as they say. I often ponder whether that band still exists. Hm, SAAB currently doesn't.

And before the Trust revealed itself to the world and before I left for Mars, I had a pretty run-of-the-mill Škoda Fabia Sedan, 1.4.

(shows picture of the Fabia)

Blue instead of red, but the same version.

Peter reminescences about his service in the Royal Air Force and Royal Australian Air Force during World War Two

Oh, one more thing…

When I recently talked about the planes that I've flown as a military pilot over the years, I didn't actually mention the ones I flew for the British Empire in WWII, during my exile from home.

As you'd expect, in the Battle of Britain, I flew :

(shows picture of a Hurricane)

Hawker Hurricane Mk I. Started with this cumbersome but gallant fellow. Quite a shock therapy after flying a lighter Avia biplane for years before that.

(shows picture of a Spitfire)

Supermarine Spitfire Mk IIa. We received them in October. Once I started flying sorties in it, I had to unlearn what I learned in the prior months aboard the Hurricane. People often think that switching from one plane to another, broadly similar one, is no big deal. They're wrong. It does take getting used to, believe me.

Squadron ? I served in the 312th. “Storks”, as I used to call us (just look at our badge). Our motto was “Not much, but many”. And we lived up to it…

By 1942, I decided to quit at the RAF (needed to fake my death, though, just in case) and head to help out another part of the slowly vanishing British Empire - little old Australia. I know, a rather unusual choice. But my urge to visit those locales for the first time since the 18th century was probably too strong… In 1943, the fighting in New Guinea and Borneo (another part of WWII many people forget about) was really intensifying. I joined one of the reconnaissance fighter squadrons that pulled auxiliary duties in the campaigns. To see the beatiful mountains of New Guinea from the air was a one in a lifetime experience… And I got to see them from the smallish cockpit of an equally smallish fighter :

(shows picture of a rather obscure-looking and small fighter)

The Commonwealth Aircraft Corporation Boomerang. Though the Boomerang, like many small and less powerful planes from more obscure manufacturers, was often ridiculed by naysayers, I gradually took a liking to the only mass-produced Aussie fighter plane. You can have the best engine, airframe and armaments in the whole world, but if the thing between the seat and the controls has shoddy skills, you might as well not even bother pretending you're a fighter pilot. Skill, resolve and judgement is everything. I think I proved that in numerous Boomerang sorties. Though most were just about close air support against ground units or reinforcing the fancier warbirds from our squadrons, I did have a few aerial kills. A transport floatplane, two Zeros/Zekes… But the one I'm most proud of was a Nakajima Ki-43 Hayabusa. Yes, I shot down a Ki-43 with a lowly CAC Boomerang. The Jap pilot bailed out and saved his life, but I'm pretty sure he was quite embarassed to see his racecar with machineguns being downed by a lucky shot from an upstart little sparrow. The Aussie squadron I served in was the No. 4 Squadron RAAF.

Where would you find my pseudonyms in the RAF and RAAF squadrons' documents, you ask ? You wouldn't. About a year or two after the war, when I made some friends in the British MoD, I arranged all documents of my existence and participation in the Battle of Britain to be discarded and destroyed. I did the same to the pilot records about me in the Czechoslovak and Aussie archives a bit later (I did the latter cover-up during my first, relatively short residence in Australia, in the the early-to-mid 1950s). No one would ever discover that I flew for three different countries during the war. But why did I do that ?

I'll only say this: While I had no qualms about fighting Nazis or Japanese imperialists, I'm not the kind of person who'd like to be remembered in official documents or textbooks, alongside my former wingmen. It was war, I was only doing my duty. I'm not keen being reminded of what I had to do back then. While a lot of the guys from the other side of the barricade that I shot down were probably fanatical stalwarts, I am sure there were also many pilots who weren't like that at all. If it weren't for us being on different sides, we could have been wingmen… And, in general, I feel uncomfortable bragging about killing human beings. So that's why I chose to silently eradicate any official records about me being a fighter pilot in WWII. With all my kills combined (not counting the ground attacks), I could be nearly counted as a double ace - but I chose differently. I chose to be WWII's unsung ace and I'm all the happier for it.

Birth Name: Peter
Birth Date: Late 1280s (presumably in AD 1287)
Birth Place: Presumably one of the eastern comitates of the Kingdom of Hungary.
Status at Birth: Son of homeless young parents of unknown social standing.
Relation to other Eternals: Formerly none that he knew of, but after making himself known to the global Eternal community in 2010 and doing some recent research in their archives, he discovered he apparently knew a female Eternal in the 15th century (who later became a member of the Trust). Later, the two of them were united and eventually volunteered for The Trust's second manned mission to Mars.
Current Pseudonym:
Peter Molnár (used as his citizen name since 1879)
Peter the Hospitaller (given to him as a reference to his past by Leo Fitzroy during a debate in early 2011 on the Trust's secret discussion board)
Past Pseudonyms: Too many to count, a list is currently being compiled. Some examples:
Peter (1287 ? - 16th century)
Pavol/Paulus (14th century - 16th century)
Michal/Mihály (14th century - 16th century)
Pieter Kornelius Mertens (various parts of the 17th century and during the early 18th century)
Peter Marsden (sporadically in the first half of the 18th century)
Paul Cooper (stay in Britain during the late 18th and early 19th century)
James Morris (1830s-1840s, during Darwin's expedition on The Beagle)
Füzéri Pál (during the Austro-Hungarian North Pole Expedition)
Peter Molnár / Molnár Péter (while living in Austria-Hungary between 1879 and 1915 and during WWI, prior to capture by Russians)
Günter Pannewitz & Peter Müller (during a few visits to German-speaking countries in the 1880s and 1890s)
Matej Borovský (WWII, during service in the Czechoslovak squadron of the RAF)
Ralph P. Hartigan (WWII, during service in a squadron of the RAAF)
Andrej Krajči (WWII, during the Slovak National Uprising)
Vladimír Lipnický (used as an alias after emigrating from Czechoslovakia to the West in the 1940s, occasionally revived)
Peter Molnár (used since settling down again in the 1990s)
Current Home: The Cave, Martian surface base of The Eternals' Trust.
Past Homes: Various places in Europe, Asia, Africa, Australia and the Americas
Current Occupation: Researcher and engineer working for the Trust at their Mars base since their second manned mission to Mars.
Past Occupations: Soldier (mercenary, royal soldier, city militia, conscript, fighter pilot, guerilla resistance fighter), travelling merchant, con-man and alchemist, adventurer and traveler, amateur zoologist, writer, photographer, journalist, (pretending to be a) student at college.
Skills: Archery (good), marksmanship, fencing (average), improvisation and survival, photographic memory and strategic approach to things, capable of great multitasking, has a keen eye with a photocamera, pretty solid language and computer skills, did know how to ride horses (but forgot in the past few decades as they've stopped being a necessity), can drive road vehicles and fly turborop aircraft.
Languages Spoken: Slovak, Hungarian, Czech, Polish, (British) English, German, French (formerly knew several historical forms and a lot of various dialects of these languages), Finnish, bits and pieces of various Slavic, Germanic and Romance languages, some Arabic, Mandarine Chinese and Japanese, native Siberian dialects, some African dialects (doesn't remember much from these languages nowadays).

14th century

Charles I. Robert of Anjou, first Anjevin ruler of the Kingdom of Hungary, also known as “Charles Robert of Hungary”

Louis I. of Hungary, heir to Charles I., king of Hungary, known in later centuries as “the Great”

Mary I. of Hungary, daughter of Louis I., first ruling Hungarian queen and last Anjevin on the Hungarian throne

15th century

Sigismund of Luxembourg, heir of Charles IV. and John I. of Luxembourg, ruler of Hungary, later shortly ruler of the Czech lands and Holy Roman Emperor

Phillipo Scolari a.k.a. Pipo Spano, Italian nobleman and mercenary captain in the service of king Sigismund

Vavrinec Koch of Krompachy, late-medieval humanist scholar at the Universitas Istropolitana

16th century

Leonard Stöckel, citizen, local scholar and head of the church school in the free royal city of Bardejov, an early supporter of Lutheranism in the Kingdom of Hungary

Sarsa Dengel a.k.a. Malak Sagad I., emperor of Ethiopia

17th century

Yonten Gyatso, the 4th Dalai Lama, the only bearer of the title with Mongolian ethnic ancestry

René Descartes, French scholar, philosopher, traveller and part-time mercenary

George II. (György/Juraj) Rákoczi, Hungarian nobleman and leader of an anti-Habsburg rebellion

Ilona (Jelena/Helena) Zrínyi, Hungarian noblewoman, last of the Croatian House of Zrínyi, wife of anti-Habsburg rebel Francis I. (Ferenc/František) Rákoczi and mother of future anti-Habsburg rebel Francis II. Rákoczi

Mehmed Köprülü, Albanian-born Grand Vizier of the Ottoman Empire, military commander, diplomat and traveller

18th century

Daniel Foe (better known as Daniel Defoe), British journalist and writer

Matej (Matthias) Bel, Hungarian polyhistor and journalist

Thomas Newcomen, British inventor of the first rudimentary steam engines

19th century

Jane Austen, British writer

Charles Darwin, British biologist and globetrotter, founder of the basis for modern evolutionary theory

Ľudovít Štúr, Slovak linguist, patriot and political activist, codifier of the first modern Slovak language standard

count Ferdinand von Zeppelin, German (Württembergian) nobleman, soldier and engineer, later known as a major aviation pioneer

William Tecumseh Sherman, American businessman, author, soldier, war hero

Mary Cassatt, American-born French painter, a follower of the Impressionist movement

20th century

Ján Bahýľ, Slovak engineer, inventor and aviation pioneer

Jozef Gregor Tajovský, Slovak author, playwright, journalist and soldier

Aleksei Brusilov, Russian cavalry general

Milan Hodža, Slovak agrarian politician and proponent of a central European union

Karel Čapek, Czech journalist, writer and playwright

Édith Piaf, French singer

Alfred Bester, American sci-fi writer

Marshal McLuhan, Canadian literary critic and communication theorist

Gabriele Susanne Kerner a.k.a. Nena, German singer

Umberto Eco, Italian philosopher, semiotician and writer

Post-Reveal, it has been often said that the character of Robinson Crusoe, created by English writer Daniel Defoe, was a composite of the life experiences and attitudes of two different persons: Alexander Selkirk and Peter. The latter met Defoe personally during the early 18th century and told him about his adventures in the Pacific, including the experience of being marooned on a deserted island for several years. If Defoe really based Crusoe not just on Selkirk, it would explain why Crusoe came from a merchant background (mirroring Peter's then-identity of a Dutch or German merchant).

And contrary to popular belief of some Jane Austen fans, his friendship with Jane did not influence the portrayal of any of the male characters in her works.

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