|Eòghnaidh Uí Náir of the Fir Domnann
“If you are a dreamer, come in
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,
A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer...
If you're a pretender, come sit by the fire
For we have some flax-golden tales to spin.
- Invitation, Shel Silverstein
||He calls himself Juniper Johnson. Eight hundred years ago, he called himself "Juniper, son of John." Among other names.
What is he? He's a talented occultist. He's been a physician. A scholar. A priest. A court astrologer. A prisoner. A slave. A lifesaver. A thief. At least once, a conqueror. He claims to be a 2,400 year-old druid. He's a notorious card cheat.
He's been hung, drawn and quartered, poisoned, drowned, burned at the stake, and rolled into a rug and trampled by a horse. And he always comes back. He claims to have been the inspiration for Edmond Dantes AND the Comte de Saint-Germain.
He is also a legendary liar and on occasion a complete charlatan.
He washed up in Fallcoast, as poor as a churchmouse, completely on the rocks, and half-mad. Where has he been? When he was last seen somebody stuffed him in a trunk and threw him off a freighter in the 1960s. Then he promptly disappeared. Again.
And now he's re-appeared, and he's combing the woods, looking for something. He says it's a fabulous treasure worth tens of millions of dollars he buried in the region when he traveled here with vikings, over one thousand years ago.
Update: He just came into a lot of money. Like, a lot lot of money. Wheeee! Hahahahaha!
It's only forever, not long at all.
Lost and lonely, that's underground.