Name: Cian O'Catharnaigh
Aliases: Chao Zheng, Sean MacMannus, Charlie Wade, Joel O'Leery (Current)
Age: 3300~ (Born roughly 500 years before Hallstatt culture recorded history)
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.
Weapons of choice: Celtic Anthropomorphic Sword, Smith and Wesson MP360
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.
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.
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.
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...
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.
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.
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.