Full Name: Leonardo Nikos Marinos
Nicknames: Everyone calls me Leo, as that's what I tell them my name is. Or Sir, or Mr. Marinos.
Age: I look about Twenty-Seven, but I'm actually 2,459. Yeah, I look good for my age.
Birthdate: Nowadays, it would be the Second of September.
Home Town: Sparta, Greece.
Sexuality: Bisexual (everyone in Sparta was!), but over time, I'm more inclined to women.
School: Arcana Academy - I'm the Head Master of the Academy, I'm the one who opened it, and I also teach Battle Strategy. I think I'm qualified for the job.
Power: To put it bluntly, I'm immortal. I stopped aging at the age of Twenty-Seven, and I haven't aged since. I can get sick, and I can get hurt, I just physically can't die. I've been cut in half before, beheaded, stabbed, shot, hung, whatever. I don't die. It hurts like hell whenever I'm "killed" but I come back.
Likes: ♦ Eating just about anything ♦ flirting ♦ women with confidence ♦ roast dinners ♦ teaching ♦ alcohol ♦ people who actually laugh at his jokes ♦ anything to do with history ♦ living through so many different eras ♦ writing in his journal.
Dislikes: ♦ Dying ♦ when history is presented wrong ♦ creepy bugs ♦ thunder storms ♦ misbehaving students ♦ the teachers from Noctrem ♦ mineral water ♦ when people move his things, especially his journal ♦ people using their powers for bad ♦ horses.
Fears: I have algophobia, the fear of pain. Despite the amount I've been though, I absolutely hate it. I also suffer from oneirophobia, the fear of dreaming. It keeps me up half the night, as I'm petrified I'm going to see that battle again.
Personality: For someone who has to interact with a lot of student's and teachers, I'm extremely detached. I don't like to get to close to a person, because I know that I will outlive them, no matter what happens. I have a good memory, so I remember a lot of names, but that doesn't mean I will remember you as a person. Remember that - I'm not here to be your friend, I'm here to be your colleague, or your teacher. I will be there if I'm needed, because I'm quite soft like that, but I don't like to be. I only comfort those who need it as I remember how I let my brother down all those years ago. I can be very strict when I want to be, and if you do something wrong, I will call you up on it. I like the company of women, especially with no strings attached, so you could definitely say that I am flirtatious and womanizing. I mean, if I'm not going to have any friends, any family members, or a real romantic interest, I need something to keep me sane. I don't like to care about the women that I sleep with, because I honestly don't know how it wold affect my heart. Underneath my hard, womanizing exterior, I can actually be a sweet guy, with a large heart who wants to be loved so much but I'd never let myself get too attached to someone to let them find out. I feel lost and alone in life, but there is nothing I can do about it. It'll hurt me even more if I grow attached. Finally, I'm extremely loyal, and I can't stand it when someone turns their back on another. That's a one way ticket out of this school. Loyalty means everything to me, because of my upbringing, and without it, I don't think anyone can be worthy of a power.
History: I was born in the year 447 BC in Sparta to... I don't even remember my mother's names any more. All that I do remember was that my mother was extremely beautiful and my father was the Spartan King Leonidas. Yeah, that big one that led those three-hundred people into battle to be slaughtered. I also recall having two siblings, an older sister and a younger brother. My brother was only a year younger than me, so whilst I was training to become a Spartan warrior, so was he. Lets just say, I used to beat my little brother up a lot and say it was "training." It was quite fun; I never got told off for hitting him and hurting him, whilst my sister was helping mother in the kitchen - I never really got to know her. We were trained in the art of weapon handling, shielding, battle technique and position, the best fighting stances, ect. By the time I was seventeen, and my mother was sixteen, my father lead three-hundred Spartan troops against an army of three hundred thousand Persians. What a smart man my daddy was. He also decided to pull my brother and myself along with him on his quest for total demise, and being Spartan's, we had to go. As much as I despised the soldier life, I couldn't say anything about it - it was fight, or die - and I'd rather fight.
To be fair to all of the history books, we did put up a good fight. We held those Persians off for what felt like days - killing as many of them as possible. I put all of my training into action, and I did kill quite a few of those Persians, not going to lie. However, when my father finally realized that they weren't going to win this battle, he sent me and my brother away. We scrambled up the rock face closest to the battlefield, thankfully not being seen by any one else, and soon we were watching two hundred and ninety-eight Spartan men dying viciously - by spear, arrows and sword. It was a gruesome massacre, one that still haunts my dreams now, and in the end, I shielded my little brother's view. I didn't want him seeing that. However, my moving him caused us to be spotted. I was the cause of those Persians running up the cliff face, chasing us until they were in range, and then spearing us. I remember it. The spear passing through my stomach, watching it come out of the front of me... thinking about it now sends shivers down my spine. I then felt another searing pain in the back of my neck, but after seconds, I fell into darkness.
I don't know how long I was out, but I woke up. The spears were still sticking out of my neck and my stomach, and I had to pull them out myself. I've never felt pain like that. Soon, the spears were out and I was scanning the area, looking for my brother. His body wasn't on the floor, there was no blood trail... maybe he had escaped, I thought to myself? Yeah, what a stupid thought that was. As I stumbled around the corner, I saw my brother. Well, pieces of my brother. Suspended on six spears; one for his head, torso, and his four limbs. All I remember after that was throwing up profusely, screaming, and running.
The rest of my past I try to block out. I tried to die so many different ways, trying to rid myself of the memories that haunted me of my father's massacre and my brother's horrible death. I've lived through the age of Jesus Christ (although I never met the man, I did hear stories - I was in Venice at the time of his walk-abouts), where I tried to drown myself, the Middle Ages where I fought in numerous battles and died many a time, I joined the Vikings for a short while, although when they found out I wasn't really a Viking, they slaughtered me and sacrificed me to Thor. I was hanged during the French Revolution for trying to help the Royalty escape, I shot at the Spanish Armada as they tried to attack (but I was shot back), I watched Shakespeare's plays at the Globe Theatre, before jumping off of it, and then I gave up. After centuries and millenniums of trying, I realized I wasn't going to die. There was nothing else about it - it just wasn't going to happen. So, I decided to do something good with my long, [i]long[i] life. I realized that I wasn't the only one with a special power, and I wondered what those of a young age would do about their powers. How many of them were hiding away, trying not to hurt someone, or avoiding all human contact? So, I decided to open up a school - Arcana Academy, where those with Supernatural powers could come and study and be safe from any harm.
Noctrem Academy came around when some of the students started acting up in classes, blowing up things and hurting other students. I soon found out that one of the teachers was holding classes after school, encouraging the children to act out and be bad, so I kicked him out, along with the rest of the students. So, he set up his own school, for those who wanted to be bad; hence the creation of our enemy academy.
Anything else? I rarely sleep without the usage of sleeping tablets, because of my dreams, and I write everything down in my journal(s) so that one day I can donate it to some sort of museum, to give the real history to the people. I can't stand the fake history that is taught to students.