Chaos Theory: The Root of all Evil

[Matt Knight]

Main Entry: chaos theory
Part of Speech: n
Definition: the study of unpredictable and complex dynamic systems that are highly sensitive to small changes in external conditions
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(( Howdy folks, this is a RP Story idea I've been playing with for a while now. This is merely a Present-Day teaser post. Soon to come are the parallel posts that will include a Middle-Earth friendly setting as well as one taking place in the not-so-distant future. 'Sorry of this is a bit long. Enjoy! ))


Date: December 5, 2006 C.E.
Era: Present Day

Ralph had always seemed the sort of unintelligent young man who would say something as completely naive as "I hate weather." The underlying meaning of statement, of course, was that he hated the weather as it stood presently, but never the less his statement, however stupid, was as said.

He had stood there in his mom's dilapidated old shack of a Victorian-styled house watching all of his neighbors battle the inches upon inches of falling snow all day. He thought it wise not to attempt to fight such a force until the time that the precipitation had completely subsided.

"Why bother?" he had always said. There was no real point in trying to shovel any snow today. Any idiot paying attention to the weather channel would know that the snow would continue until the on-set of night, and all of those beautifully shoveled driveways were going to have to be shoveled again.

"RALPH!" an angry, older female voice calls, "Go shovel the driveway!"

"I'll shovel it once the snow lets up ma."

"It's dark out now, go do it before it gets too cold."

Unable to really attempt to reason with his mother, Ralph geared up, and trudged through the 19 inches of cold, cotton-fluffed "bliss" that awaited him. He took his tool: the shovel, the only one he was going to need, and set to work.

... An hour had gone by and not much progress could be spoken of. The snow was just too deep and thick to really make progress in any sort of efficient manner.

"This sucks!" Ralph exclaimed, chucking his shovel into the nearest bank of snow. At this point there is so much of the stuff that the shovel manages to stand mostly upright.

In exasperation Ralph took a seat in the heftiest snow bank, just to his left, and stole a glance looking upward, toward the sky. He noticed that the sky was actually mostly clear... his mother had had a point this time, the snow had been subsiding when he'd set out to begin shoveling.

At that very moment however, he noticed an unusual cloud formation. The fact that it was a formation of clouds isn't what surprised him; it was the fact that from somewhere deep within the clouds there seemed to be an eerie blue glow.

Ralph had seen some funny clouds before, but never in his life had he known them to exhibit a blue color... green perhaps, but never blue.

He also noticed something else, that this particular formation of clouds was expanding, not just blowing in a particular direction but actually spreading outward, allowing for this blueish glow to overtake the otherwise dark night.

"That's odd," he remarked to himself, having risen to a stand, as if he somehow believed that this would allow him to see the phenomenon better.

"Hey Mom!" he called, "You should come check this out!"

Only an inaudible yell was heard. It didn't matter.

He looked up at the clouds again, and this time, much to his delight, and surprise, the faint blue glow had transformed into blue flashes which seemed to be reaching down toward the ground, not all that dissimilarly from lightning strikes.

"Whoa..." he remarked to himself

"Mom, you really have to check this--"

ZAP!

The young man himself had suddenly fallen victim to the very phenomenon that captivated him so. A bolt of the blue energy strung out and touched him. However, this was not merely lightning. He was not struck down and nearly killed; in fact, he was not even there. He had completely de-materialized, and been captured by the entity above him.

...

Ralph felt faint... One moment he had been standing in his snowy driveway... and the next he felt like he was being thrown halfway across his yard by a thuggish beast. Then he noticed that his eyes were closed.

He opened them, only to find himself completely devoid of his winter garments, instead being clothed only by a single white sheet. It should have been winter, this should have caused him a great deal of distress, but it didn't, why?

Taking a moment he observed his surroundings and suddenly realized that wherever he was far, he was FAR from where he was just a moment ago. To his left was a campfire of sorts sitting in the middle of an ethereal-looking forest clearing. The whole world around him, as it seemed, was neither real nor unreal. It didn't seem like anything out of a dream, yet somehow he knew that if he wanted to experience where he was like he would have a real forest, it would only lead to disappointment, because it wasn't real at all.

"Welcome my son," stated the voice of an older man, sitting across from Ralph at the fire.

"Who the HELL are you? What the HELL is going on?" Ralph exclaimed as the shock began to dissipate.

"Relax my son, you are safe here."

"Where the hell is here? Why am I here anyway? One minute I was back at home... and... Jesus man... who gets off--"

"The Master--"

"The Master?"

"The Master has chosen you--"

"Chosen me for what? I mean what the fuck man, you'd better start explaining some of this shit."

"It's simple my son, there is no need for alarm," the man responded serenely, "You have been chosen, by the Master, to be removed from the flow of time."

 

[Matt Knight]

(( Allright, here's the installment that's supposed to open things up for you Middle-Earthish/Fantasy folks, sorry that this one isn't quite as great as its predecessor ))

Relative Date: June 941 C.E.
Era: Middle Ages

"Harumph," growled an old man as he gently paced through the delicate paths plowed into his flowerbeds. Wizened eyes behind wrinkled eyelids casted a forlorn glance to the once gorgeous garden, now wilting and dying from the lack of sunlight.

Nearly two weeks prior, a single, enormous cloud of an ominous variety decided to expand in the heavens and block out the sun's warm golden rays, and replace them with choking blue.

In the old man's mind clouds were not necessarily bad things altogether either, but this cloud produced no rain, in fact there hadn't been any precipitation to speak of for just as long as the cloud had been there. His plants were barely surviving... blue light was still light, but they yearned for the full spectrum only available from the sun.

A drought would soon come, and if that happened an old man such as himself could be easily forgotten... and what of his plants?

"Sir! Sir!" a younger voice called, sounding out of breath.

A young man, scarcely 16, came running up to the elderly man, hastily dropping to his knees in respect.

"My goodness boy, what have we here now?" Spoke the old man in a muffled, bearded sort of way that only old men can, "Rise my son, Rise. What's all the trouble about now?"

"There's word in the village, sir, an army of knights was swallowed up by the great cloud!"

"Yes, and?" the old man responded, not sounding alarmed in the slightest.

"Sir?"

"I don't get why everyone's all in a fuss about a cloud. As odd as it may be, it will disappear eventually if we simply leave it alone. Now is that all the news you had for me?"

"No... no sir... My father and most of the other villagers have decided to leave and move beyond the mountains."

"Oh, well that's interesting..." the old man said, turning around to tend to this wilting garden.

"Sir, we humbly request that you grace us with--"

"No."

"But--"

"Son, I'm far too old to consider leaving everything I know and love... however, I will give you this."

The old man slowly opened a leather pouch at his side. Inside were several unusual looking artifacts. He handed the young man a crystal of sorts and closed his hand around it.

"This will guide you and your family to safety... It was gathered from the deposits on the other side of the mountains... that is its home... and it will take you there."

"But--"

"Go my Son. Go in secrecy and may the spirits guide and protect you."

The young man didn't utter another word, Instead he stood there looking at the old man, trying to read him and bid him thanks, but the old man wasn't permissive enough to allow him.

As the youngster turned away he felt odd... Something deep down inside of him told him that he should not have come to the old man for help... even though it sounded like a crazy idea, it felt true enough to frighten him. He was about to turn around to suggest handing the crystal back to the old man, but it was already too late.

The youngster's eyes drifted skyward as he noticed a new beam of blue energy beginning to form. He had seen this happen only a few times... but each time it happened a strand of blue energy would extend from the cloud and touch a person, making that person disappear.

He began to run...

ZAP!

A strand of energy leapt out of the cloud and touched the young man, causing him to disappear.

The old man spun around, seeing the disappearance of the youngster.

He stood in shock for a moment before casting a perplexed glare to the cloud directly above him... "Why did you take him? ..." he spoke softly, "He was only a young man... surely he posed no threat to you... whoever... whatever you are...?"

 

[Matt Knight]

(( Final installment, after this the thread is completely open, have fun with 'er ))

Date: August 12, 2061
Era: Not-too-distant Future

Director Brennings was an old man and he had seen many things in his lifetime. As a boy he'd often dreamed about being some great hero or leader, and little did he know that his dreams of heroics would never truly come to pass, but those of being a great leader would eventually take root.

He was one of 6 directors, all of whom sat on a very secretive, private board, as part of a very secretive, private organization that had been established to undo wrongs committed in the past.

It was incredibly stupid really... Some 'genius' invented time-travel a little less than ten years ago, in secret of course, but it wasn't long before vile-doers learned of its existence and had decided to exploit the creation, fucking up the flow of time and making things really ugly for everybody else.

This organization had been put together at that time, monitoring what they called the "Variation Index," which was based on computerized simulations of the timeline. It was able to spit out a percentage number: an indication as to how much variation there was between the ideal time-line and the current time-line.

Brennings never understood it fully to be perfectly honest, but he knew that the smaller the Variance Index, the better off things were.

When the timeline was initially 'fractured' (as many have come to say), the generated variance index was somewhere close to 45%. The amount of effort to bring it down was exponential; the closer the variance got to zero the more difficult it was to bring it down, unless it shot back up again.

It was a status quo really, agents would be sent back in time to repair damages done, and their presence in the timeline would cause minor variations again which would have to be smoothed out...

The one advent that made this line of work possible was that of timeline protection technology. Agents could make repairs and no one in the organization would have to lose sleep wondering if their very existence was in question... at least temporarily. Despite the name, all the technology is really capable of doing is slowing down the ripples within the very flow of time, so if an agent inadvertently were to blink out his or her own existence he or she could have enough time to correct the damages done before it took permanent effect... but that's all history.

Brennings was enjoying a cup of coffee, more than usual, but just then an alarm rung out in his building. He grabbed his cane and hobbled from the break room, down the hallway to the elevator to the control room.

He moved out of the elevator and carefully moved down the stairwell, his eyes drifting up occasionally to see what was going on, but as he did all he could catch was pandemonium.

"What's going on?" he barked.

A youngster nearly ran down the old man as he came down the stairs.

"Good God boy, calm down!"

"Yessir..."

Brennings walked to the center of the room where he could best see the giant display at the front of the warehouse sized control center.

"Report please?" he spoke in a mildly agitated voice.

"Just a second sir," replied a man sitting at the console, "... there has to be a computer error sir... the variance index is climbing faster than I've ever seen..."

Brennings turned his head toward the display, fishing out a pair of reading glasses, looking at the index as it was climbing. He too had never seen this before, and he'd practically founded the symbiosis of time-based technologies.

The variance index was past 40% and climbing...

"It's as though..." spoke the man at the console... "...hundreds of millions of people throughout time have suddenly ceased to exist..."

"Lock us down now, get every agent we've got back here now!" Brennings demanded.

Another alarm began to sound as the variance index reached 63.6% ... and began to hover there

"My God..."

Such a variance had never been recorded, or even simulated.... with an index that high very few things throughout history would remain the same...

 

[Raharanor]

Relative Date: August 945 C.E.
Era: Middle Ages.

It had been little more than a few years before that strange cloud shadowed everyone's lives, not to mention his own. Ginfyth's father had simply disappeared during the time period in which the ominous cloud hovered over the skies. He had been an honourable knight under Lord Gredian, and had often stressed the need for Ginfyth to rise to his status. However, his father had been somewhat impatient with his initial reluctance to rise to such high a station in life, but with his death, he felt more determined than ever to be under a lord's service. Ginfyth looked up again from the sword he was cleaning.....someday, he would become a knight....at least someday when he broke free of the shackles of the drudgery of guard duty in London. It was good enough work for a guardsman of his day and age, but Ginfyth was alike his father in that way, impatient to rise to fame.

Absently, Ginfyth shifted his weary gaze to the skies, and found nothing to be amiss. Indeed, there were many clouds to grace the sky, but none he had ever seen could compare to the one he witnessed that seemingly swallowed his father whole. He quickly brought his focus back upon his sword cleaning, for fear of seeing the ominous cloud once again. The sword he was cleaning was indeed his own, and he was very much proud of it. It was given to him as standard equipment by the Captain of the Guard...was evidently commanded by the King himself to personally deal out equipment to those of his knighthood that had either perished or simply gone missing in the cloud incident a few years ago....

" Ginny!" A rough but familiar voice brought the young man back to reality. Standing above him was Brandin, the Captain of the Guard.

" Ahoy there Captain!" Ginfyth replied smiling slightly," What would you have me doing this fine morning?"
" There isn't really much that you're going to be in for barring your usual patrolling duties and your precious sword polishing," The Captain replied, a little gruffly at Ginfyth's optimistic tune," but there is something that you might find interesting"

Ginfyth suddenly ceased his polishing as a shivering sensation ran down his back...as if it precipitated something akin to the events of four years ago....he looked towards the older man, who seemed to share in the younger guardsmen's worries.

" Well," Brandin began almost reluctantly," it seems that some peasants over to the far north near the ruins of the Roman Wall have noticed people disappearing without notice....many folk simply put it down to chance disappearances, but His Majesty fears the worst....that the clouds have indeed returned!"

The news seemed to have confirmed the young man's worst fears...the clouds had returned....what would come about after simply a few disappearances? Ginfyth resolved to speak more about it after guard duty, as it was time for his patrol.

 

[Matt Knight]

Date: December 5, 2006
Era: Present

Agent Knight has been enjoying a rather lengthy, but productive time in the year 2006. The era isn't quite his forté, but he's found that it isn't altogether too difficult to blend in here. The late 90's and 00's were known for their spicy variety, culturally anyway, as feminism grew in strength, and as homosexuals began to have a voice... It wasn't that difficult for a moderately well studied time-traveler to simply exist incognito.

He is relaxing, sitting in the driver's seat of a 2004 Pontiac GTO, his typical cover car, speeding down the freeway. It is inconspicuous from the outside, but inside she's tricked out with all of the futuristic amenities one could ever ask for, or rather, he.

"You seem rather pensive this evening," speaks a voice within the car, even though Knight is the only one actually there.

"I suppose," Knight responds.

"Is something bothering you?"

"No, reduce the uh... temperature by about three degrees, will you?"

"Certainly."

The system in question is called the Computerized Intelligence Driving system, or simply CID to many. Other agents and drivers sometimes made it a point to rename their CIDs, but Knight never did. It was the only partner any agent ever needed... or got.

"Hrm, I am detecting a strange anomaly beginning to form."

A pause,

"Oh? Let's see it."

Knight wears a special kind of sunglasses while he drives. They are actually small-computerized displays that interface directly with the car and it's computer, allowing for enhanced driving, and easily seen graphics.

The computer brings up the imagery of the strange cloud phenomenon that is forming. The partners observe as it grows and expands, then see the tentacles extend toward the ground and swallow people whole.

"What in the... fu..?"

"Warning! System Override, Secondary Protocols now active."

"Wait, what? What the hell, Cid--"

An indication on the display changes from "Manual Cruise, to Automatic Cruise."

Knight tries to override to the Automatic, but realizes that this is a Priority One distress, meaning someone back home, back in the future, has given the order to recall every agent that can be reached.

The car exits the freeway and pulls into a ditch, skidding and screeching to a halt.

At the same time an ominous, whining/humming sound begins to intrude upon the agent's ears. He knows this sound: it is the sound of the temporal displacement unit powering up.

"Particle Accelerators at full strength, micro-singularities stable, electron-flow monitor is nominal. Engaging."

Knight is thrown back into his seat, feeling the force of 3 to 4 G's as his car is engulfed in a brilliantly colored tunnel of lights (at least from his perspective). A counter on the dash indicates the years as they fly by, and it doesn't take long, perhaps only a second or two of travel to go from 2006 to 2061.

Date: August 12, 2061
Era: Not-too-distant future

With an earsplitting CRACK the car reappears, unmoving, in a large warehouse type space. A couple of other inconspicuous looking cars, decades old, are there as well, with equally stunned agents stepping out of them.

A few more loud pops fill the room as the last couple of agents and their vehicles appear on the scene.

All together, there are only five of them.

Director Brennings is standing there, looking concerned, staring into all of their eyes.

"Hello everyone... I'm sorry I had to get to you like this, but I don't have any other choice. We are now faced with the gravest situation that has ever arisen during the agency's history. Time-line protection technology is now active."

"Director Brennings," speaks a voice, "What's going on?"

"A force of unknown origin has imposed its own will on the time-line... the variance index is now at 63.9%"

Knight remains silent and unmoving, looking the most unconcerned of the group, or rather, the most thoughtful, while the other agents almost begin to look panicked.

"What happens now?" Knight asks.

"We fight," responds Director Brennings.

 

[Raharanor]

Date:August 23rd 945 C.E.
Era:Middle Ages.

Ginfyth continued along with his patrol in relative silence while pondering the latest news that Brandin had given him four days ago. It was indeed disturbing, and indicated some sort of unknown force emerging...or re-emerging. Judging by his captain's description it sounded disturbingly like the cloud that swallowed up a large number of knights in a village some miles west of London. Whether it was the return of that mysterious cloud or not, it was certain that people were disappearing at a gradual rate, and it didn't bode well for bystanders. Ginfyth slowly shook his head at these thoughts as he walked along stolidly towards the barracks while avoiding a peasant rushing past him possibly with farm-goods for the local market. The soldier entered the barracks and the smell of slowly cooking stew reached his nose, and he grinned briefly at the fare he would soon be enjoying.

" Aye there Ginny!" One of the soldiers there, Sendon, casually called out," How was the patrol? Anything tidings of interest on the disappearance of more people?"
" No Sen, just the usual tidings of new victuals being brought in from across the channel and word of the new chapel being built at some point or another..."
The man smiled knowingly and indicated a finger towards the cookpot.
" The meat and vegetable stew is about ready Ginny, as I'm sure you'd like a share of it would you not?"
" Indeed I would, why ask such a question!" Ginfyth jested smiling, and moved towards the pot to begin serving out the savoury stew.

As the small company inside the barracks were enjoying their bowls of meaty stew, Brandin came running into the barracks with a scroll in his large hand. The men in the room's eyes widened as they noticed the royal insignia on the scroll.
" Hey there men, look sharp! I've received word from one of His Majesty's messengers of more disappearances and that several of us will be assigned to investigate this!"
At this, the soldiers in the room...even the more seasoned ones, had grim looks suddenly plastered upon their visages, and it was inevitable what they were thinking at this time. The cloud again!

 

[Matt Knight]

(( Hrm I think it's been a little too long since I've thrown a post up on this thread... whadda ya say boyo? Ready to keep going? ))

Date: September, 945 C.E.
Era: Middle Ages

--

What a ridiculous idea.

Director Brennings had decided that in the absence of actual government to make the call on how to disperse forces… or a qualified leader, he’d make the call himself.

Agent Knight had no particular objections to this course of action other than the fact being Brennings is an old man, and isn’t going to be ballsy enough to get the job done… At least he wasn’t “commanding” the USS Endurance… a high-tech gizmo air-ship on the loan from the military, retrofitted with temporal displacement technology to fit the ever-apocalyptic occasion. The man in charge of this beauty was none other than Buford “Bo” Rodriguez, an agent of notable good standing with the directors.

While the remaining half dozen or so agents had all been assigned to various times throughout history, searching for some sort of pattern, Director Brennings, a small team of scientists, and Agents Knight and Rodriguez had taken the Endurance to the proposed origin and epicenter of the temporal distortions.

The building sized craft glides gently through the air, not seeming to have any real wings to speak of, as it cruises above the mysterious ‘time-cloud.’ On the bridge of the craft are Knight and Rodriguez, the only two men who seem to know anything about operating the craft.

“God Bless the idiot-proof Airforce,” Knight remarks to himself before speaking aloud to his counter-part, “I think we’re above the center of the cloud now.”

“Okay,” Rodriguez says, calling to Knight from a console near the rear of the moderately expansive control room, “Bring us to a stop, I’ll begin scanning.”

“Yessir,” Knight responds, walking around an obstructive panel and taking a seat at a different console, putting in a few commands and watching out the series of windows to observe the ship actually coming to a halt, “We’re stopped.”

“Okay good,” Rodriguez begins, “Now begin scanning fo—“

A violent jolt interrupts him.

”Warning, a Tactical Alert has been issued by the Automated Defense System. Please attend assigned stations. Repeat. A Tactical Alert has been—“ Knight shuts it off.

“What the hell just happened?” Rodriguez inquires

“A surge of energy just leapt from the cloud and tried to attack us…” Knight responds

“Systems status?” a pause…

“Everything looks okay,” Knight responds, “Shields are holding strong.”

Another jolt leaps from the cloud and strikes the Endurance’s shields.

“No damage.” Knight says again.

“What’s going on?” demands a gruff, older voice… none other than Director Brennings.

“Sir,” Rodriguez begins, “It seems as though the cloud is trying to attack us… to destroy us.”

“You mean to capture us?” Brennings responds inquisitively

“No sir,” Knight says, “These scans seem to indicate beyond any doubt that there is no temporal displacement surrounding these energy tendrils… the cloud’s intention is clear… it wishes to destroy us.”

“Distinction… implies… intelligence…” Brennings ponders…

“Sir?” Rodriguez inquires.

“Clearly, this cloud can detect that we are not of this time period… and my assumption is that it is deducing that we must be here to stop it… and that… furthermore… we must be destroyed.”

“That cloud is doing a little too much thinking for my liking sir …” Knight says, moving back to the console from which he can pilot the ship.

“Even so, I fail to see how this benefits us?” Rodriguez admits.

“Well,” Brennings begins, leaning on a cane, “If it’s an intelligent life that’s at the heart of this phenomenon, we have to assume that there lies the possibility that we can interact with it… reason with it… or, threaten it.”

 

[Raharanor]

Date: September 2nd, 945 C.E.
Era: Middle Ages.

The time since they were informed of the sudden disappearances of villagers and other people within the kingdom. His Majesty the King had assigned Ginfyth, Sendon, Brandin, John and few others of the London city guard to investigate the strange disappearances. It had taken them the best part of a a week..namely, five days....to organise themselves by the way of clearing up a few debts with gambling dens within London and getting the washwoman to air out their uniforms before setting out. However, since then the small group of soldiers and their captain had little success in pinpointing the overall cause of the disappearances of the kingdom's subjects. The fact that there had been little progress made in this endeavour discouraged the men somewhat, but kept heart in the hope of bringing forth a solution to the strange events...hoping against hope that it could be associated with more common causes of disappearance other than the dreaded 'cloud'.

Ginfyth sat near his comrades in a largish tavern in York while enjoying a good-sized mug of the local ale and a hearty meal. The victuals that he had tasted many a time before tasted somewhat better amongst the company of friends...but who cared about that? The only thing that mattered was that he and others were enjoying it as much as he was.

The large crowd of people that gathered in certain tables and niches around the tavern were a mix of worn-out travellers and hearty locals. The joking and laughter arising from the jokes made was very apparent. Smiling slightly in contentment, Ginfyth sat back upon his wooden chair...before he received a sharp nudge from Sendon.
"Ginny!" He said sharply," your ear for a moment please..."
Ginfyth, noticing the creasing frown upon Sendon's visage, rose immediately to focus from his musing.
"There seems to be much in the way of merriment within the tavern my friend,"Sendon began,"but there seems to be little or nothing beyond that...almost as if they're hiding some hidden discontent or fear..."
Ginfyth again gazed upon the large room and could sense little of what his friend was describing. He maintained his focus on him was he continued.

"The talk when we entered town was ordinary banter, the kind one would expect from folk within such a large town, but it doesn't feel...right. I often noticed them occasionally glancing to the skies as they were talking as if they were expecting the hand of the almighty one to appear..."
"I can perceive what you are saying my friend," Ginfyth replied slowly,"as, come to think of it, I noticed such a thing when I entered alongside you and the others..."
Exactly,"Sendon confirmed nodding grimly,"the dreaded 'cloud' is seemingly lurking in the minds of the people around here in this room and within the town itself..."
"If that isn't obvious already,"Remarked one of the soldiers nearby," as we dealing with more than just a petty 'napping here."
Remember yourselves!"Brandin suddenly interjected softly,"the walls here have ears!"

At that the conversation ceased as the few soldiers, including Ginfyth, glance across the room as if there was a few locals glancing at them curiously...as if they were listening knowingly...there seemed to be at least one or two such people near the bar who were gazing at them before he was looked upon and glanced away.

 

[Lowthor]

Date: 1802
Era: Georgian

Macros smiles to the girl and then continued to sing the song as he rowed gently along the river. They were the only ones there, but it was a private estate. They were moving at a slow, almost lazy pace along the river around a smooth wide bend where the willow trees bent over and dipped their branches into the water.

She was very pretty. He knew that in a year or two she would be in a very good marriage to a distant nephew of the King, but for now she was a beautiful girl, and he was up to his usual tricks. His sleeves were rolled up, and his hat and jacket rested next to the picnic basket he'd brought along. She didn't seem to care that his right hand was shiny, golden coloured and not quite as warm to the touch as his left. He'd told her that it was a Swiss made replacement after he lost his real hand saving the life of a Princess in a distant land.

This was the life, he thought to himself, when he felt a cold shiver run down his spine, and a second later he was alone in the boat. There was a bang and a musketball shot past his face. "S***" He shouted and dived from the boat into the river. He put the wooden craft between himself and the source of the gunfire, only to see that the man in the trees was not firing at him. There was a battle going on with two forces exchanging fire across the river. That shot that had nearly removed his good eye was fired by a youngster that hadn't waited for the order, and now the battle had started in ernest.

He needed to get out of here, so he grabbed the pendant around his neck, and sought out his safe haven...

 

[Lowthor]

...Macros was no longer in a river in 19th Century England, instead he was in a river in what twelve thousand years later would be 19th Century England. His safe haven, as he thought of it, was not a place, but a time. If he went back far enough he could freely take a breather without risking running into events that might cause him to change history. The idea about standing on a beetle and changing future events immeasurably was a massive exageration.

Time to think, why had a continuity wave just went right past him like that. His pendant kept him seperate from the timeline, but it didn't tell him what had changed, and how it effected things. Was he ever going to be born now? There was only one way to find out. He would need to head to the far future, and hope they still had a way of measuring continuity deviation.