#edward forsyth

[merrymarvelite]

Cover of the Day: Nick Fury, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. #15 (November, 1969) Art by Herb Trimpe

[frostedcornflake]

Finally, time to read something important.

[lethe-rpg]

To a man that has lived as long as Edward, the only thing left sacred is his name. Forsyth, of the great Forsyth Clan came from Norsemen in Bergen, and earned their keep pillaging small towns around the coast of Scotland. They were proud, gutsy, and full of greed, yet their Chief, Harold Forsyth, fell in love with a Scotswoman from Galashiels, Scottish Borders. Ailith Mac an Leighe resented the Vikings for taking land that didn’t belong to them, land that her father farmed on, and made a living off of. The Forsyth clan cleared out her uncle’s bar one afternoon, thought they’d make a show of themselves. Ailith spit at their feet and told Harold their name derived from the word Fearsithe, which in Scottish Gaelic means ‘man of peace.’ He fell in love with her fire, her passion, and constant moves to deny his advances. But despite her initial resistance, she found compassion behind the eyes of a killer. In 806, Edward was born, and following about two years later, his brother, Alastair. They were raised in Edinburgh, Scotland alongside many other children with Viking blood in their bones, as other clans has risen, conquered lands, and taken wives of their own in this foreign land. Early on the Forsyth children knew of their origin, all of it, even the lamia blood that ran through their veins. With the promise to live forever, and abilities no human could match, they fought alongside their father and the clan. As they grew stronger, so did the clan.

In 1745, the Jacobite Rising came to Scotland. Nearly 940 years they’d been untouched by England’s wrath, as they too took land from others and made it their own. With their mother dead, the men fought for Edinburgh, the ground she lay buried under. They fought until nearly all of their men fell, even the great Harold Forsyth, and his youngest son, Alastair. The loss of his father and brother tore the demon in two, awakening his rage, his thirst for blood. As hard as Edward fought, and for as long as he held out, he didn’t stand a chance against the British Army. In the aftermath, he remained the last man standing, and beneath the rubble lay his family, his roots, his home…Edward spent the next 273 years going from country, country, hopping around the world so that his never changing appearance could be kept under wraps. He became very good at blending in, at changing, and adapting. He learned and mastered pyrokinesis as his father had, even learned things like jujitsu, meditation, and spoke more languages than any singular human being possibly could. Over time, his grief for the loss of his family and land festered. Edward played the part of the idealist, the hedonist, the anarchist, and so on, and he played them well. Almost too well, to the point where he’d began to lose sight of who he was. The face that stared back at him in the mirror no longer resembled that of Edward Forsyth, the son of the great Harold Forsyth and Ailith Mac an Leighe. This drove him to madness, made him drink, even lead him to the edge of a fucking building, yet he found while standing at the edge he could not jump. Alastair spoke to him then, subconsciously, urging Edward to find his place again, to find meaning. He took this as a sign, and through talk in town while visiting San Francisco, found himself in Lethe, Washington.

Of course it had taken a little convincing on Edward’s part, but even his age, he found it easy to compel them to allow a permanent residence. Much to his luck, he arrived just two months before people began rising out of the river. He remembered when the gossip began, and the fear set in. Just as they had back in the 800’s people seemed resistant to change. Things only seemed to get stranger when the second Riverborn presented on his doorstep was none other than his old friend, Arthur, whom he’d met years ago back at a job in Jersey. They’d been friends for years, even met up still when Edward decided to abandon ship, yet he’d sworn his friend died off years back when he stopped showing up or checking in. Now more than ever, Edward feels a gravitational pull to Lethe that compels him to stay. He knows it’s not just the sudden vague reappearance of an old friend, but the emotions brought on by a fairly new pink haired witch working at the local apothecary shop in town. With his fascination building in her, and the sudden rise of people without memories from the river, Edward feels his time in Lethe is only beginning.