Pancratius

Pancratius looks like a middle-aged man with dark hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin. Along the right side of his face he was a long, bone-white scar, that stands out among the tan skin. Pancratius tends to wear a black hooded cloak, hood on, and almost continuously travels. He will usually be found drinking beer in the far, shadowy, corner. He wields a glaive, and has a gladius for close-quarters. He also carries a bow for hunting. 

If Pancratius is questioned as to where, or why, he is traveling, he will say that he is looking for something. If further questioned, he will finish his beer, and return to his room. After this, if he his followed by the inquisitive person, than he will wait till their is no one around, than turn around and beat the person following to pulp, stopping just short of killing them. Pancratius will then continue walking down the path, without breaking a sweat. Even after this, if continued to being followed, he will simply launch into his tale without being asked.He will tell the tale in short sections, one a night, traveling through the day.

'Back in the day, I was beloved of the gods. You see, I was the leader of my tribe, and a great tribe it was. I would sacrifice to them once a week, and we would soon recover more than what we sacrificed that very day. We sacrificed once, and for the rest of the week the forests would be plentiful. Before battles, I would sacrifice. And we would always win, with hardly any loses. And one morning, the messenger of the gods came to my tent, to give me a message. He told me that as I have honored the gods throughout my life, the gods would like to honor me with a feast. Me and my tribe would be welcome to come to their palace tonight to eat, drink, and be merry. The messenger left, and I told my people of this feast. Knowing it would be the height of dishonor to refuse to eat with the gods, we feasted that night, sitting with a god on either side. I ate with the head of the gods. And in the morning, after we had all sobered up, the head of the gods approached me, and offered me a gift, any gift. I chose foolishly. I had always feared Death, and thus I chose immortality. And the god sadly gave it to me.'

After he finishes this, he will close his eyes and fall asleep. He will reveal nothing more, and will say nothing more while they travel the next day. If a monster crosses the road, than Pancratius will draw out his glaive and cut it to shreds. The PCs will not need to help. That night, around the campfire, Pancratius will continue his story.

'When we left the palace of the gods, I told my people of my new gift. They were jealous of it, of me. We returned to our normal routine. We continued to travel by day, find plentiful, god-given food, and sacrifice once a week. Soon, however, we met another tribe. The tribe saw our filled haversacks, saw all the food we had gathered, and grew greedy. They attacked. There was no warning. One moment peace, another violence. I immediately grabbed my obsidian sword, and joined it. And during the combat, I felt a foe's sword slide into my back. I saw the tip emerge from my stomach. The sword was yanked out of me, and I fell to the ground. How long I lay there I know not. But when the battle was over, and my people had won, I looked down at my stomach, and saw the wound had healed. There was not even a scar. I told my people of this, and they were greatly amazed.'

He will finish this segment of his tale, and then fall asleep. The next day, the PCs will realize that the climate has changed dramatically. They will wake to find snow on the ground, and they have either traveled very far north, or Pancratius has played with time and made it winter. Both are true. They will also notice that when Pancratius sets up camp, a deer will come within sight of the camp. Pancratius will then rise and shoot it.

'A year went by after the battle where the fact that I am immortal was proven. This day, we found our first death. Some of our number had died of battle before, but that day was the one where someone had died of old age. We followed our funeral rites, and over the course of the week, we felled trees to create a pyre. We then placed the body on top of the pyre, and lit it. Though I wore a face of great mourning, secretly I was happy. I shall never  die! I thought to myself. I shall never succumb to the flames! For the rest of the day, I mourned outwardly, but a great smile crept upon my lips in the privacy of my tent.

Once again, this part of his tale finished, Pancratius will fall asleep. The next day, instead of traveling, Pancratius will offer to teach any warriors in the party how to fight. Pancratius has had ages to prefect the art of fighting. He can share a lot. Teaching them to fight involves Pancratius taking out a wood version of the melee weapon of their choice. He will then give one wood version to the trainee, and one to himself. They will then fight, with Pancratius occasionally offering tips. The victim- I mean, trainee, will be covered in bruises by the end. If their is multiple trainee's, he will sometimes do one-on-one sessions with each, and sometimes he will have all the trainees team up do fight him. And again, that night, he will relate another part of his tale to his tired and bruised audience.

'More years went by, and I watched more and more funerals. At some, for those who I knew and loved, I mourned. At others, I think some could tell m lack of sadness. One day, after many years, I realized that none of the people I grew up with was still with me. Other people replaced them, but I never got the chance to create the personal bond that I had created with those that we had scattered in the forests as ash. My fellow people viewed me as their leader, not companion, nor anything else. Over the next few days after my realization, I learned more truths. My tribe viewed me as a freak. Never growing old, never dying, I was more than them, and less than them. The wall between me and my tribe was more than simply leader and people, it was nonhuman and human. And I grew sad and lonely without my usual companions. I, who had avoided Death for all my all ready long life, longed for him to take me in his skeletal embrace. That was the year I left my tribe to fend for themselves. I took the solitary life, and went in search of the Oracle.'

He, as usual, will sleep now that the fourth segment of the tale is done. He will further train his trainees the next day, generously doling out bruises, and will tell another part of his tale at night, over the flickering fire.

'I soon found that food was easy to find. It was as if the gods pitied me, and the gift that I so foolishly asked for, and so helped me on my way in this area. After many weeks of traveling, I reached an area I had heard about, but never seen before. I had reached the plains. And so I stepped out onto this forest of grass, and continued west, for I had heard that Oracle lay in the west. After more weeks, I reached something of which I had never heard before. I had reached the sea. I could not see the far shore, and I was afraid of it, of its vastness, of its impossibility, both of which only possible to the mind used to the quiet tones of the forest. I knew I could not cross it, and so I chose to go south. Eventually, I met an old man, quite insane, who thought me his young son. He taught me how to use a glaive. The weapon that was handed to me fit in my hand like it was made for me. And after many months of the old man teaching me, I realized that I was good with the glaive. And the old man sent me on my way. And as I was walking  away, he called me by my name, by Pancratius. I looked back, and I saw no sign that the old man had ever been there.'

As before, Pancratius will sleep. In the morning, a new training session will begin. He will pair up the trainees for one on ones among themselves, and leave for the day. During the afternoon, Pancratius will return, and attempt to surprise his trainees, and attack them with his wooden weapon. He will refuse to mention where he went, but launch into his tale that night.

'And so I continued south, with my new glaive as my walking stick. I defeated several monsters on my way south, and grew in skill with my glaive. The beach turned south, and I found what I would later know to be a peninsula, jutting out into the sea to the west. And so I followed this peninsula west, and at the very tip was a grand building, that I at last knew I had reached the Oracle. I sought after him, and I received my prophecy of how I would shed my immortality. And I learned that it would be many years more that I would be able to die. And from then on I traveled the lands, learning each area, growing more and more skilled with my glaive and my gladius, a weapon I bought in Rome. Ever I searched, for that which I knew would get rid of my curse. And that is my tale, the rest is, as they say, history.'

He will fall asleep again. In the morning, and throughout the afternoon, he will train the trainees. He will then, during the evening, answer any questions the PCs have of him. He is knowledgeable on most history subjects (because he lived during them), and on a broad range of scientific and magical areas (he learned from history's best). He can be used to give new quests for the PCs, or start them on a new campaign. If the PCs offer to help him get rid of his curse, then he will be grateful. He will, in the morning, tell them of what he is searching for, the thing that will rid of him immortality. It is the Flower of Life, which, if consumed by Pancratius, will give him back his life, and he will grow old and, eventually, die. If the PCs fail to offer to help, Pancratius will feign going to sleep, and slip out of the campsite in the dark hours. In the morning, in either occurence, the PCs who trained under him will find that they learned a lot under his tutelage, and will get a lot of experience.