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Offline AnEmperor

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TEMPoral
« on: March 30, 2009, 01:22:02 PM »
My name is Bishop Storm and I am a detective in the year 2020. If you are listening to this recording, then I'm already at the gates of hell in front of the demon that created this world, waiting for him to pass judgement on me. What are my sins? I delved into temporal space to gain a power I didn't fully understand, and I found it. This is my story, at least, one version of what could possibly be a conglomeration of events across time. I can only hope the others are intelligent enough to provide the same documentary. I laugh because technically, the others and I are one and the same...
« Last Edit: March 30, 2009, 04:19:15 PM by AnEmperor »

Offline AnEmperor

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Re: TEMPoral
« Reply #1 on: March 30, 2009, 04:18:45 PM »
My name is Bishop Storm. I'm the middle child of three boys, an honor-roll student, and the first in my family to receive a college education. Fuck, I climbed the education ladder even higher and attained my master's followed by a doctorate. I remember graduation like it was yesterday; my dad stood with the camera as I passed my arm around my mother with love. "Say 'cheese' Dr. Storm," the camera flickers twice and the flash illuminates to create the ten mega-pixel image of the hairs growing from my nostrils. I love my mom and I love my dad. I even love my brothers because they helped shape me. That was what life used to be. Now, I'll tell you about what helped distort me.

Two forces come together to bring an unstable world crashing down onto its knees. The vigilante group known as the Gods Among Men rise one year after my graduation. They began as novices, picking fights with bullies by answering distress calls over the Internet. Their success is unbelievable and while their numbers are growing all over the United States, the government has deduced that only five to six are a real threat. Five to six! Still, it's five to six they can't eliminate. The inability of the government to deter and apprehend the lords brought rise to the United Restoration Order, or simply the URO. The Gods Among Men did a service to their country and their government spat on their efforts only to create this mockery of a means to a new world based on the Gods' efforts but with profit. The Gods didn't ask for anything in return but the URO raised taxes.

So where do I fit in? Where does a prospective Nobel Prize winner fit? I didn't fit. The URO began reducing redundancy in society like removing multiple fast-food restaurants and gas stations. They called it a waste of resources from the materials used daily to the men and women employed. If you could walk across the street from one textile store to another, you'd wake up one day to find one of them gone. It was the same for me. The URO isn't interested in theoretical sciences like what my dissertation embodied; that is, the divergence of time and its infinite span. The URO is only interested in practical sciences. They don't understand how divergence could possibly push the world forward and there went my dissertation.

If you were jobless without a degree, you were placed in construction to help rebuild the world. If you had a degree like myself, you could sign up for the United Restoration Task Force and if you were truly special, then you could hunt the lords. Even in this day of reform; although most of the lackey men had been found and arrested, the core Gods were never caught. They are priority-level one. The lords refuse to entrust the future to the hands of the URO. They believe reform begins with the children and that taming the adults now would change nothing. The Tech Lord, leader of the Gods, believes in drawing a line between the past and the future and only after the URO began to come down on children harshly, did the battle between these two superior forces erupt...
« Last Edit: December 30, 2009, 10:11:51 PM by AnEmperor »

Offline AnEmperor

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Re: TEMPoral
« Reply #2 on: March 30, 2009, 11:09:34 PM »
"Check your ammunition! Your goal is to eliminate the rebel leader and anything else that stands in our fucking way," Colonel Miles barks his orders to the two United Restoration Task Force groups standing before him. I'm in U32, a ridiculous use of the acronym. The letter U in United, stands for the lowest of the task force soldiers. We represent the masses; therefore, we represent unity. Restoration, R, is the next rank whom are primarily responsible for patrolling their respective city. Task, T, is a nice leap from R. They typically specialize in a skill like engineering, medical, or tactical forecasters to name a few. Most of the time, they're tech savvy; those geeks know how to learn, which makes them pretty damn useful sometimes. They're trained with basic firearm skills, combat, and defense, but they're never placed at the front. Last is Force, F, whom are the epitome of what utopia should be. They are elite, perfect, and powerful, so says the rumors. Furthermore, as of lately, they are the only individuals granted the authority to attack a lord. I could get in deep shit if I challenged the Tech Lord, even if I won.

Like I said, I'm U32, bottom of the shit hole with a doctorate degree. We're about to raid a department store. Local police have managed to corner some of Tech's cronies into this shopping center. Local police can't handle the situation and they've already lost three men. No lord has been seen on the premises. "Bishop! Let's move! To the back!" I don't like being ordered around. I don't like being told what to do. I don't like being wrong. It's the steam behind my engine. It's the madness behind my research. Just because I'm a lackey for this organization doesn't mean my research has stopped. In fact, it's in full swing now that I don't have any other priorities aside from showing up to assignments like this one. I show up, shoot some folk, and walk away. These wind rifles make it easier. So far, no deaths on my hand. Depending on the setting, they can shatter bones, or simply knock an attacker over. I'm not trying to make any long-term enemies so I feint ignorance when caught using the standard setting. One of these days, Tech will come for his followers like he's done in multiple cities. He'll raise hell and I might just help him.

"Ready! Break! Move in! Move in!"

Offline AnEmperor

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Re: TEMPoral
« Reply #3 on: March 31, 2009, 12:58:22 PM »
"Ready? Move in! Move in!" The procedure is the same as always, we break in, surround the rebels, and apprehend them. The rebels always put up a fight; however, they lack the tactical prowess that experience takes full advantage of. Honestly, what do they hope to achieve? I always wonder why anyone would barricade themselves inside a building. By barricade, I mean completely seal themselves in; there's no hope for escape once you've entered a siege. The outside forces will continue to grow and your resources within will continue to diminish.

We make use of a back door leading to the loading bay of the store's receiving area. Intel pinpoints the group in the main office where a sweet security door is in place, as the tech described it. The sunlight entering the opening makes the floating dust visible to our eyes but nearly invisible when night vision is enabled. They step on temporal science but they love the night vision and infrared gear. What they probably don't know is that infrared is simply a different frequency along the waves spectrum and frequency is inversely proportional to time. Even if they don't understand its definition, common sense attributes some relevance between the words in the definition.

"Everybody get down," Michaels, our team leader ducks beneath some tables as pellets begin sailing. This is new. The rebels have never attacked like this before. It sounds like he unloaded an entire clip before retreating. I suppose the URO can never truly account for every weapon during their ceasefire campaign; though, their detectors--another peek into the frequency domain--have a ninety-nine percent detection rate. The gear on our suit is not picking up the known weapon frequency; these weapons must be custom made. The sound following the obvious retreat to an exit is the racket of a solid object smacking around the open ceiling's beams and light fixtures. "Get down!" I curl toward my stomach, place my hands over my head with the rifle covering as much of my back as possible, and wait for the sharp, two-inch needles to finish their random injection into the surrounding objects.

"What the fuck was that," Orlando cries out from behind me. I turn to see him pull one of the metal needles from his shoulder, observe it with disgust in his eyes, and toss it to the ground.
"Spike grenade," the final member of our group, Chassedy gives name to the attack. It's something you seen in movies but never in real life. "It looks like they're using combustible chemicals to set the explosion off. They may be using the same for their guns. You see," Chassedy picks up several small spikes from the ground. "It's like a nail gun." Shit, this place is full of combustible chemicals and we don't have access to any of it. No doubt, that doorway he exited through will be the last any walk through if they peek around its corner. We're definitely not trained for this shit.

"We gonna call for backup," Orlando, whom had flipped a table over for cover, makes a suggestion that returns a couple glares. "What? I'm not looking to die here."
"For all your big talk Orlando, you're a wuss," Chassedy prepares himself to move forward. "I'm tired of having my ass wiped," Chassedy's analogy is a bit too much.
"What, you think if you complete something like this, you'll eventually get promoted? Don't make me fucking laugh. We're the people who lost their jobs remember, which means there's someone out there better than us. They don't need us. That's why we're sent to do shit like this," Orlando is as pessimistic as usual but he's right.

"Ladies, save the high-heels parade for later. I'm hungry," Michaels puts an end to their quarrel, looks at me whom remained silent, and then towards the entrance. "We've gotta get through that door."
"Yeah, if you want to leave in a fucking body bag," Orlando pulls out a cigarette and flicks the lighter multiple times.
"Orlando, what are you stupid? We're gettin' attacked by combustible chemicals and you want to smoke," Michaels barks at Orlando, whom shrug his shoulder in response. I step back, lean over, pull the cigarette from his mouth, and mash my boots over it. Angered, he blows the nicotine-filled smoke into my face and I return the favor with my fist. "Bishop! Bishop!" Michaels loses his patience as I have. My fists dig deep into Orlando to account for his body armor before the final rips a tooth from his jaw.

"Fuck you Bishop! If I want to smoke, I'm gonna smoke god dammit! I've lost my job, my dignity, my wife, and my kids! Now you want to take this from me?" I hate the guy but he always makes very clearly points. What do we have left? And that which we find we cling to.

"Michaels...Michaels," the radio attached to Michaels' left shoulder barks. "Where the fuck are you? We're gettin' our asses railed over here!" The radio breaks in and out and the argument amongst us is put on hold. Orlando will seek to finish it later on as he usually does. I'll be sure to bring matters to a concise end.

Offline AnEmperor

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Re: TEMPoral
« Reply #4 on: April 03, 2009, 01:54:39 PM »
An explosion is heard over the static response of the radios. These rebels came on board expecting to fight persons without justice; yet, they've become involved in a battle with persons steering this city's justice. Those without justice are typically unaware of the rebel force heading in their direction. Their ability to defend themselves is weak and they're often caught off-guard. The task force, these drivers of justice are organized, informed, and somewhat trained.

Michaels lobs a wind grenade toward the door and takes cover as it explodes, triggering the traps Orlando presumed to be set. As the dust settled, one of the rebels come crashing through the entrance while firing behind him. He tumbles until his right shoulder hits the wall, his teeth grinding at the level of opposition facing him, and his eyes roll to the back of his head upon spotting us. Orlando fires without remorse. The teen's body hits a metal shelf perpendicular to the wall as his limbs loosely fall to their side. He's not dead nor will he die. He'll suffer multiple fractures but he'll live to see court. That should be great news, but for this young fella, he's more likely to wish he'd been killed.

"One down, three to go," Orlando switches his rifle to its recharge mode, waits for the highlighted bar on its edge to refill, then cockily snaps it back to single fire mode. After a grin stretches the length of his rectangular face, Orlando switches the rifle to rapid fire mode. The four of us filter through the doorway after ensuring none of our comrades would open fire upon our arrival. The first team is linearly scattered behind the toy isle and their leader motions forward toward my right where the final two have taken cover; the team having already taken down one rebel.

Michaels and the first team's leader, one I am unfamiliar with, get together to discuss the situation. I overhear Michael mention the spike grenade and how our position right now could prove fatal if another is thrown. The order to scatter is given but I hold my position at the doorway. From here, I can see the foot of a rebel; a shot in the leg would have sufficed with a regular gun but this wind rifle doesn't have the accuracy.

Orlando pulls past me toward the end of this isle that leads to a path way where the isle continues on the other side. Passing his rifle around the corner, he opens fire. Had the amount of wind stored in his weapon not been depleted, Orlando would have never released the trigger. I hear the rifle's mode switched followed by a quick rustling of feet. Orlando and the rebel stand face to face, each with their weapon aimed at the other.

"It's too bad man, you're out of ammo," the rebel grins. Did he forget that we're here as well? Orlando isn't the only task force member here. "You can all put your weapons down now. I want an unmarked car around the back and nobody near it." He's taking Orlando hostage? Two simultaneous shots are fired but only one body hits the ground.

"It's too bad kid, this rifle's got a wide range," Orlando snickers rubbing the back of his hand across his cheek where the pellet had grazed. As for the rebel, the bones making up his face are most likely shattered or disfigured. It's illegal to shoot someone in the head, yet Orlando fired at point-blank. Orlando wasn't out of ammo as he had everyone, including the rebel, believe. The final rebel surrendered but Orlando shot him regardless. Two solid shots to the knees puts the kid on his face in tears. With that, the situation has died down.

Most cases end in this kind of tragedy or one similar. The rebels rarely surrender and while the number of rebel occurrences have decreased, the gun fights have become more dangerous. Lately, it hasn't been a question of how many can we get out unharmed; it's more about how quickly we can bring this matter to an end with the rebels to their knees. We want our pay so we can feed our families; but, what about their families?
« Last Edit: June 23, 2009, 10:37:56 PM by AnEmperor »

Offline AnEmperor

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Re: TEMPoral
« Reply #5 on: June 23, 2009, 10:37:26 PM »
"Don't look so depressed, Bishop. He would have done the same to you," Orlando turns to me with a solemn expression before grinning from ear to ear. "The world's changed, don't fall behind."

"The world...has changed..." the words come across again. It takes me several seconds to realize that I can't identify the voice. Furthermore, the tone of voice indicates an agreement more than an echo which means that it definitely wasn't Orlando, less he agrees with himself. It's a bit scary, this presence coming down on me as I turn to identify the voice.

"We...we tried..." the man whose knees were blown from beneath grasps painfully onto another man's coat. "Tech...we failed." The world around me may as well have not existed as everything but this man standing before me vanishes. Is he really? Could he really be, the Tech Lord? His name is at the top of the list as the leader of the Gods Among Men and no other lord is feared more than him. He appears gentle as he tends to the fallen man. Although his presence here is enormous, I don't feel threatened at all; but then, why am I trembling? Tech looks so passive and kind but my bones have locked in place and the muscles enveloping them tremble with fear. This is the reaction I should get from a grotesque individual with multiple scars and enough muscular cuts to rival a professional body builder.

"No, you haven't failed at all. Beliefs are not tangible; therefore, they can not be lost." Words of wisdom? The world's renown terrorist is speaking words of wisdom? I feel as if I've been misled all these years but this is him--this is the Tech Lord. I watched his verbal threat to the world on national television and then watched as he brought those threats to fruition. "But don't be mistaken, beliefs are very real and definitely worth fighting for," he grins at the last statement before rising back to his feet. "Bishop Storm." He knows my name? "I've been looking for you."

Offline AnEmperor

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Re: TEMPoral
« Reply #6 on: July 01, 2009, 06:57:21 PM »
Of course he knows my name; he's the Tech Lord! He hacked the military satellite to project his vision on every radio station and television channel in the city--maybe even the country! Someone as insignificant as myself should be easy to locate and track; but wait, why does Tech know my name? Don't tell me...does he know about TEMPoral?

"I've been looking for you too, Tech Lord," I respond after my locked joints have allowed me to move once more. I'm not allowed to challenge a lord, especially this one; but the URO shouldn't expect me to lay down and die. I won't lie down and I won't die. The Tech Lord's facial expression rises with curiosity. Why have I been looking for him, is what his eyes are wondering. "You destroyed my life and now I want it back." Definitely not the reason Tech was expecting as his grin turns sour. "You destroyed a lot of lives!" No response, not even a flinch. I thought the Immortal Lord is the emotionless one.

"Sometimes, we have to make a mess of what we want to clean up," Tech states casually. The man doesn't seem to register the unit closing in around him. He's either got a lot of confidence in his abilities or he's insane; probably both. Still, more words of wisdom? How can I believe the stories when the real thing is here before me. It's no use. I can't fathom this being!

"Fuck you Tech!" That's Orlando. Is he insane? "Make a mess before we clean? Wipe your own ass first. You shit on a lot of families and a lot of good people!" Am I hearing this right? "If you die, so many more will live," Orlando raises his weapon at point-blank toward the Tech Lord's face. "Please die."

Offline AnEmperor

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Re: TEMPoral
« Reply #7 on: July 01, 2009, 10:22:17 PM »
"I'm a mess," Tech speaks in a voice one can't help but sympathize over. "You can shoot me to clean this world; but then, your goal is no different from mine. We are the same--"

"Fuck you! We're not the same man. We're not even close," Orlando narrows his focus and fires the weapon. I turn my head out of instinct in fear that I'd be the one lying on the ground. Orlando's accuracy is superb but at point-blank, anything is possible. I may have jinxed myself with that thought as the impossible has become somewhat possible. I don't hear a body fall to the ground nor did blood splatter in any particular direction. Tech is still standing and presumably, so is Orlando.

"You're absolutely right." That is Tech's voice filled with so much confidence that I'm afraid to look up. "We are not the same." I cock my head back immediately after the previous statement due to the overwhelming feeling now present in Tech's voice. The sight of Tech and Orlando standing toe to toe does not imply that the two are on the same level. Tech's hand is clasped tightly around the nozzle of the automatic and that familiar grin returns to his face. Without so much a moan, Orlando drops to both knees, his eyes severely locked on Tech before passing out across the floor.

"Orlando! What the hell did you do to him," I drop next to Orlando to check his vitals. The guy is lucky to still be breathing even as his body jerks softly from time to time. His eyelids are peeled back and his pupil is centered across his iris. The man is long gone in a dream that he may never wake from. I turn to Tech, furious. Orlando may have been an asshole, but nobody deserves this kind of pain.

"I showed him the world he wanted to see." Showed him? Illusions? "His world wasn't particularly bad. I can understand his point of view; however, he did not have enough faith in his utopia therefore it crumbled beneath his feet."

Offline AnEmperor

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Re: TEMPoral
« Reply #8 on: July 15, 2009, 02:14:58 PM »
"What do you want from me," I grow tired of listening to his voice. As gentle and peaceful as it may come across, I have to remember that it's a gentle voice that kills. Tech's vocals is the calm before the coming storm. I don't want to fight this guy. Many have prayed they run into him while listing all the possible ways to dismantle him; however, I can't think of anything now except turning tail.

"I want you to become a part of my new world." Is this guy fucking with me? Tech lord wants me to join his new world? Is this how he's recruited the other lords? I'm nothing compared to the other lords. "This world here that has taken everything from you, I will give everything back." Why is this guy so good with words? His tone of voice, choice of words, and sincere facial expression literally break down every defense I've put up to avoid being sweet-talked.

"You take from me and now you want to give it back?" Who does this guy think he is? Who does this guy think I am?
"You're absolutely right. I have destroyed many lives including yours and no apology on earth will ever be enough." Here it comes; he's going to sway me with his words to his side. Tech is going to justify his actions just as the URO did. "Bishop Storm, I need to change the world." What? No justification?

"And if I decline?"
"Then we will continue being enemies and neither of us will ever know why. We'll fight until one of us is destroyed for which I will continue being a monster and you will have just become one. I destroyed your life so you'll destroy mine." I can't believe I've been talking to the Tech Lord for this long. The man has asked me to join his regime and I haven't yet declined. The other men hiding within the room have most likely devised a plan to eliminate me. I can't hold an answer back any longer.

"I'm sorry, Tech; but I won't join your regime and I'll tell you why so that we both understand why we are enemies." I can speak boldly before this self-proclaimed lord but can my prowess back me up? "No matter how big a change you want, it'll never be worth the lives destroyed."

"Like the URO?" Tech takes a step back, his eyes glossing over the environment as he brings a hand to his chin in thought. "I suppose they don't tell you everything. The originator of the United Restoration Order is me, Solomon Sayre."
« Last Edit: July 15, 2009, 06:20:44 PM by AnEmperor »

Offline AnEmperor

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Re: TEMPoral
« Reply #9 on: October 26, 2009, 07:19:13 PM »
The originator? Shit, I need to stop and think. I need to regain control. I'm being thrown around by Tech's words. He's winning this fight with gentle gestures of his hands. We're enemies but potential allies and now the right to raise this weapon is a result of Tech's efforts?

"You want to know, don't you? I have the answers, Bishop."
"Put your hands up asshole!" Michaels? "Put 'em up!" Michaels doesn't have the authority to engage a lord. He's captain, but still a U. "Step back Bishop and call for backup. Make one false move Tech and I'll kill you." Michaels is serious. The wind rifle is already adjusted to the highest setting. If Michaels pulls the trigger, especially at such a short distance, the condensed wind could literally rip Tech's body apart. "Don't think I won't pull the trigger. Move it Bishop!"

"Don't move, Bishop." Why did I stop moving? Why did I obey Solomon's orders against my own senior officer's? His vocals are poison. Why does this feel familiar? Why do I recall something like this happening before? It did happen, just not to me. This is something the botanic kid would use. An expert in herbal medicines and poisons. To think that he'd equip Solomon with it. When did I get infected with it? If it were airborne, Michaels would have been paralyzed as well.

 

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Allow four to six weeks for delivery. must be 18 to read. Disclaimer does not cover misuse, accident, lightning, flood, tornado, tsunami, volcanic eruption, earthquake, hurricanes and other Acts of God, neglect, damage from improper reading, incorrect line voltage, improper or unauthorized reading, broken antenna or marred cabinet, missing or altered serial numbers, electromagnetic radiation from nuclear blasts, sonic boom vibrations, customer adjustments that are not covered in this list, and incidents owing to an airplane crash, ship sinking or taking on water, motor vehicle crashing, dropping the item, falling rocks, leaky roof, broken glass, mud slides, forest fire, or projectile (which can include, but not be limited to, arrows, bullets, shot, BB's, shrapnel, lasers, napalm, torpedoes, or emissions of X-rays, Alpha, Beta and Gamma rays, knives, stones, etc.). Other restrictions may apply. This supersedes all previous notices.

Opinions in articles, posts and podcasts do not necessarily represent the views of The Fantasy Artists, RolePlayers & Writers Guild, aka FARPWG the Guild.

FARPWG The Guild © 2004-2017 Tim Boothby - All Rights are retained by those posting art, lyrics, messages and articles.

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