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MidReal Story
Immortal Rebellion
Scenario:An immortal man who has been alive for a few thousand years adapted to modern day he's hunted for is due to him being an immortal he must fight and find others like him to from a rebellion and kill those who hunt him
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Aiden Blackwood
resourceful, and determined. Aiden has witnessed countless wars and historical events, adapting to each era. He is hunted by the Order of the Red Hand, a secret society seeking to eliminate immortals. Aiden's primary goal is survival and finding others like him to form a rebellion against their pursuers. His journey takes him through modernday cities, where he navigates the complexities of contemporary life while maintaining his ancient identity.
Caleb Reed
analytical, and reserved. Caleb possesses exceptional knowledge of ancient artifacts and historical events due to his long lifespan. His skills are invaluable in deciphering clues that could aid their survival and rebellion efforts against their enemies.
Evelyn Stone
intelligent, and driven. Evelyn has dedicated her life to hunting immortals like Aiden, believing they pose a threat to humanity's survival. Her relentless pursuit of Aiden stems from a personal vendetta against immortals who killed her family centuries ago. Despite her cold exterior, she harbors deep emotional scars that fuel her actions against immortals.
I've been alive for thousands of years, and in all that time I never lost the sense of wonder at the world.
Each new century brought its own surprises, from the wars that scarred the land to the inventions that transformed the lives of humans.
I learned to adapt, to blend into each new era, and above all to survive.
For I am an immortal, and in a world where humans are meant to live for decades, not centuries, we are the targets of hunters who seek to destroy us.
They belong to a secret society called the Order of the Red Hand, and amongst them is Evelyn Stone, my pursuer for centuries.
Evelyn is a skilled warrior and strategist, feared by her own kind.
She has dedicated her life to hunting down immortals like me, believing that our existence poses a threat to humanity's survival.
Her relentless pursuit of me stems from a personal vendetta, for immortals killed her family centuries ago.
She's determined to make me pay with my eternal life.
My search for allies led me to Boston, where I'd heard rumors of another immortal living in the city.
His name was Caleb Reed, and he owned an antique bookshop in downtown.
I tracked him down on a chilly autumn morning, the sun casting a golden glow over the city's streets.
The bookshop was nestled between a vintage clothing store and a quaint café, its sign reading "Reed's Rare Books."
I watched through the window as Caleb arranged leather-bound volumes on a shelf, his movements careful and precise.
The store itself was a treasure trove of centuries-old texts, with modern bestsellers nestled amongst the classics.
Before entering, I scanned the street for any signs of the Order's surveillance.
The air was crisp and clean, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and freshly brewed coffee.
Satisfied that no one was watching, I pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The bell above the entrance chimed softly, drawing Caleb's attention.
He straightened from his task, his hand sliding beneath the counter as if reaching for a weapon.
I raised my own hands slowly, palms facing him in a gesture of peace. "I mean no harm," I said, my voice low and even.
Caleb's posture relaxed slightly, though his eyes remained wary.
He was tall and lean, with dark hair and piercing green eyes that seemed to bore into my very soul.
"Can I help you?" he asked, his voice deep and smooth as honey.
I smiled wryly, knowing that my appearance often startled humans.
I'd lived so long that my features had become refined, almost otherworldly.
My hair was as black as night, and my eyes shone like polished silver.
My skin had a faint luminescent quality, as if infused with moonlight.
It was a trait unique to immortals, making us stand out like beacons in a sea of mortals.
"I'm not here to harm you," I assured him again.
"I'm searching for someone."
Caleb raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable.
"And who might that be?"
"A fellow immortal," I replied quietly, glancing around the empty store to make sure we were truly alone.
Caleb's gaze narrowed, his grip tightening on the edge of the counter.
"You're one of us," he said flatly, as if it were both obvious and unbelievable at once. "Yes," I admitted softly.
"I've lived for thousands of years. And you?"
Caleb's eyes flickered, his gaze darting around the room as if searching for something.
Or someone.
"Come," he said suddenly, his voice low and urgent.
He gestured for me to follow him, leading me through the narrow aisles of shelves, past rows of leather-bound books and dusty artifacts.
We reached a wall lined with ancient texts, and Caleb pressed a hidden button.
A section of the bookcase slid open, revealing a small door concealed behind a tapestry.
Caleb produced an antique key and unlocked the door, revealing a cramped office filled with more treasures.
There were Egyptian scarabs on pedestals, Roman coins displayed in velvet-lined cases, and stacks of medieval manuscripts tied with faded ribbons.
Caleb gestured for me to take a seat in a worn leather chair, while he sat behind a desk cluttered with papers and artifacts.
I settled into the chair, my eyes roaming over the wonders surrounding us.
On Caleb's desk lay an assortment of daggers, their blades glinting in the dim light.
My gaze fell upon one dagger in particular, its hilt adorned with intricate engravings of lions and crosses.
It was an exact replica of the dagger used by King Richard during the Crusades. "You recognize that?" asked Caleb, noticing my interest in the dagger.
"It's a rare piece. Few have seen it outside of museums."
I smiled wryly, running my thumb over the engravings on the dagger's hilt.
"I've seen it before," I admitted softly.
"In 1191, during the siege of Acre."
Caleb's eyes widened, his grip tightening on the edge of his desk.
"How do you know that?" he asked sharply.
I leaned back in my chair, studying him intently.
It was a test, I realized.
He wanted to know if I truly was like him - an immortal who had lived through centuries of human history.
"The siege of Acre occurred during the Third Crusade," I began slowly, recalling every detail from those fateful days.
"It lasted from August 28 to November 12, 1191. King Richard led his forces against Saladin's army..."
Caleb interrupted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was there too, fighting alongside Richard."
I stared at him, the revelation sinking in. "Then you know why the Order hunts us," I said, my voice filled with urgency.
Caleb nodded, his eyes clouding.
"Yes," he admitted softly.
"I've seen the worst of humanity, and I know why they fear us. But I've also lived long enough to understand the value of our existence. We've witnessed history unfold, and we hold its secrets."
I leaned forward, my gaze locked on Caleb's.
"Tell me," I said quietly, "when do you think you were born?"
Caleb's brow furrowed as he pondered the question.
Counting years became increasingly difficult after so many centuries; it was a trait common amongst immortals.
"Sometime in the 12th century," he admitted finally, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
I nodded thoughtfully, tracing my finger along the ornate hilt of the crusader's dagger.
Memories flooded my mind - the smell of smoke from Constantinople's fall in 1204, the stench of plague-ridden streets in London in 1348.
That was already ancient history when I walked through the streets of Rome in 64 AD, watching as Nero's madness consumed the city.
It was a year that would be etched into history forever - the year of Rome's burning. "I watched Rome burn under Nero," I said finally, meeting Caleb's eyes across the desk.
"The year was 64."
Caleb's expression shifted from curiosity to shock as he realized just how much older I was than him.
"By the gods," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I can't even begin to fathom it. The oldest I've met were from the 400s."
I smiled wryly, running my fingers along the spine of an ancient text on Caleb's bookshelf.
"Perhaps they were too young to remember," I suggested.
Caleb nodded thoughtfully, his gaze returning to the Roman coins on his desk.
The silence between us grew heavy, punctuated only by the faint ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner of the office.
I wandered to a nearby shelf, tracing my fingers over the leather-bound spines of centuries-old texts.
Next to these ancient artifacts lay a modern smartphone, its screen glowing softly in the dim light.
It was jarring, this contrast of old and new - a testament to Caleb's ability to adapt to changing times while still holding onto his roots.
I couldn't help but wonder if he had ever struggled with such a divide.
If he'd ever felt torn between worlds, unable to find solace in either the past or the present.
"Caleb," I asked softly, turning back towards him.
"Do you remember your mortal life? Before immortality?"
Caleb's gaze flickered upwards, his eyes clouding as if lost in memories from another lifetime. "Yes," he said quietly.
"I was born in 1850s. My wife was mortal."
My heart ached for him; I knew firsthand how painful it was to love someone who would grow old and die while you remained forever young.
Immortals often found themselves drawn to mortals, only to watch them succumb to time as they remained frozen in perpetual youth.
It was a cruel fate, one that I had endured countless times throughout history.
But I couldn't recall my last mortal lover - or even the last time I'd allowed myself to form such a connection with another person.
My mind raced back through the centuries, searching for a face that stood out amidst the blurred faces of so many lifetimes.
There were fragments of memories - whispers of laughter in candlelit taverns, soft touches in moonlit gardens - but nothing concrete. It was as if those moments had been erased by time itself, leaving only faint impressions etched into my consciousness like whispers on parchment.
The weight of thousands of years bore down upon me, crushing me beneath its unrelenting force.
I felt like an artifact trapped in time, unable to move forward while being dragged further into the depths of immortality.