Henry
Autoexreginated
Hello, everyone! It’s my first try at a story hour, so all I ask is patience, honest criticism, and large fistfuls of money.
In the event the latter is not forthcoming, I am still posting this for two reasons. This is a recounting of the first few sessions of the continuum RPG from Aetherco that my gaming group and I ran in late early 2002. I wish to expose this wonderful game to more people, and at the same time work on my writing skills.
The game system is a marvel, allowing for in-depth roleplay, and handling the subject of time-travelling heroes in a brilliant manner. In the desire to spark interest in this game system, I plan to put up a post a day, detailing the “invitation to dance” of two junior time-travelers, and their first experiences in traversing space and time.
Hopefully, it will be an entertaining read, being posted once per day through the week, and any questions posed can be answered, probably in the same order in which my players had them answered.
One word of warning: there is some mild profanity used herein.
Without further ado, begins the tale of Richard Gardner, young trail lawyer...
The Road to our Dreams (A tale of the Continuum)
3rd June 1998 10:12 a.m.
"Damn you."
Richard saw his target now, stalking up the hall with a queer determination on his face, like the sick freak knew him or something. It was too late to change plans, too late to run.
It was either his life or the killer's.
"Damn you."
All his life flushed and rearranged, all for the convenience of some sick Asian bastard.
"Damn you."
He fired, cooly.
3rd June 1998 7:58 a.m.
The sky set emerald over Northland Business Center as Richard Gardner pulled up in his 96 Pontiac to begin his day. The Haslin and Dustin Law firm in Northern Chicago, where Richard has recently taken a position, was not his optimal choice; with Richard's bar exam, he could actually afford to be a little picky. However, Mr. Haslin offered him one thing he wanted very much, which many other firms would not give the new Bar graduate: a chance to take cases against corporations who grossly abused ecological regulations.
One private passion of Richard's was the environment, and corporations who abused their privileges made his blood boil. He took satisfaction in any time he could come up with grounds for an police investigation, or a class-action suit against someone who had played with others' lives, so as to give to them as little of what they have given to others.
Richard Gardner, so often alone in his life, has found purpose in a small law firm, with people to call friends, and an office from which to fight his own small battles to alter the world.
3rd June 1998 9:53 a.m.
"...and Bob replied, 'I guess you give it a radar gun and stick it on the end of a bridge!'"
Richard groaned, smiled, shook his head. "David, I KNEW I was gonna regret setting you up with that 'joke of the day' web site."
Alice laughed and smiled, as usual. David, caught up in being the center of the lounge at the moment, tried to offer another of his jokes whether anyone would hear or not, centering on Alice as she listened. Richard caught that. He liked Alice; she was a nice lady, and they got along well together. He noticed her in other ways, too. What was it? The sound of her voice; the way she handled irate clients for Haslin when he was not in; the way she called the boss a rather unprofessional name during his first day here, to cheer him up over a stupid blunder he had made; the curve of her neckline...
He snapped back, thinking about his next appointment. Braxton, 10:15 a.m.? He had to get ready, or he would regret it when the client got here. He excused himself from everyone, passing by them with the barest brush of clothing. Later in reflection, he realized just how precious moments were, when things happen. Even if given all the time in the world, the moments spent with the people we care about will never come again; when it will be the last time to excuse oneself from their company, and never again to do so...
3rd June 1998 10:10 a.m.
Gunshots are not heard easily, especially when not expecting to hear one. Richard heard the backfire of a car in the parking lot, but his perception quickly changed when he heard a scream immediately following. Time slowed down for him; the scream was chilling, but even worse - it was familiar. Alice? Alice. Alice!
A second shot. The scream replaced by silence, then the patter of several feet on carpet in the hall. Richard raised up from his desk in slow motion. Time got even slower. His feet were lead bricks, just like he always felt in dreams where he was running away from something. He walked a few steps outside his office; peered into the hallway. David, the joker David, laughing David, crept out into the hallway. A large handle protruding from his back. An absurd thought - when did David ever have a handle on anything?
He skirted backward to his office. A quick bound, and his .357 revolver is there - the one that security and his boss do not know about, but he carries because of horror stories he hears. The horror stories of irate clients, of gangs moving from Chicago proper into this neighborhood, of employees losing their minds and killing everyone they know. How much scarier than any story - when it is happening RIGHT DAMNED NOW.
He picked up the phone, dialed the numbers - a quick message for the 911 operator. He checked out into the hall; He saw him. He saw his future stalking calmly straight for him, and the closing of his life. Or was it the opening?
A heavy-set, yet athletic, man, in his late twenties, with Asian features, wearing nothing more elaborate than jeans, a gray shirt, and a windbreaker. Black parted hair and a slightly rough face made him think in a way of Samo Hung – if Samo Hung were a young mass murderer.
A small revolver was in the killer’s left hand, and oddly, a brace of throwing knives adorned his left leg. He stalked up the hall, for all the world looking like the next replacement for the Terminator movie.
Blood on the carpet. Blood on the jeans. Alice is gone. Her killer - now wants HIM.
All his life gone, his friends, and his work in building something that wouldn't be taken away.
"Damn You."
To be continued...
In the event the latter is not forthcoming, I am still posting this for two reasons. This is a recounting of the first few sessions of the continuum RPG from Aetherco that my gaming group and I ran in late early 2002. I wish to expose this wonderful game to more people, and at the same time work on my writing skills.
The game system is a marvel, allowing for in-depth roleplay, and handling the subject of time-travelling heroes in a brilliant manner. In the desire to spark interest in this game system, I plan to put up a post a day, detailing the “invitation to dance” of two junior time-travelers, and their first experiences in traversing space and time.
Hopefully, it will be an entertaining read, being posted once per day through the week, and any questions posed can be answered, probably in the same order in which my players had them answered.
One word of warning: there is some mild profanity used herein.
Without further ado, begins the tale of Richard Gardner, young trail lawyer...
The Road to our Dreams (A tale of the Continuum)
3rd June 1998 10:12 a.m.
"Damn you."
Richard saw his target now, stalking up the hall with a queer determination on his face, like the sick freak knew him or something. It was too late to change plans, too late to run.
It was either his life or the killer's.
"Damn you."
All his life flushed and rearranged, all for the convenience of some sick Asian bastard.
"Damn you."
He fired, cooly.
3rd June 1998 7:58 a.m.
The sky set emerald over Northland Business Center as Richard Gardner pulled up in his 96 Pontiac to begin his day. The Haslin and Dustin Law firm in Northern Chicago, where Richard has recently taken a position, was not his optimal choice; with Richard's bar exam, he could actually afford to be a little picky. However, Mr. Haslin offered him one thing he wanted very much, which many other firms would not give the new Bar graduate: a chance to take cases against corporations who grossly abused ecological regulations.
One private passion of Richard's was the environment, and corporations who abused their privileges made his blood boil. He took satisfaction in any time he could come up with grounds for an police investigation, or a class-action suit against someone who had played with others' lives, so as to give to them as little of what they have given to others.
Richard Gardner, so often alone in his life, has found purpose in a small law firm, with people to call friends, and an office from which to fight his own small battles to alter the world.
3rd June 1998 9:53 a.m.
"...and Bob replied, 'I guess you give it a radar gun and stick it on the end of a bridge!'"
Richard groaned, smiled, shook his head. "David, I KNEW I was gonna regret setting you up with that 'joke of the day' web site."
Alice laughed and smiled, as usual. David, caught up in being the center of the lounge at the moment, tried to offer another of his jokes whether anyone would hear or not, centering on Alice as she listened. Richard caught that. He liked Alice; she was a nice lady, and they got along well together. He noticed her in other ways, too. What was it? The sound of her voice; the way she handled irate clients for Haslin when he was not in; the way she called the boss a rather unprofessional name during his first day here, to cheer him up over a stupid blunder he had made; the curve of her neckline...
He snapped back, thinking about his next appointment. Braxton, 10:15 a.m.? He had to get ready, or he would regret it when the client got here. He excused himself from everyone, passing by them with the barest brush of clothing. Later in reflection, he realized just how precious moments were, when things happen. Even if given all the time in the world, the moments spent with the people we care about will never come again; when it will be the last time to excuse oneself from their company, and never again to do so...
3rd June 1998 10:10 a.m.
Gunshots are not heard easily, especially when not expecting to hear one. Richard heard the backfire of a car in the parking lot, but his perception quickly changed when he heard a scream immediately following. Time slowed down for him; the scream was chilling, but even worse - it was familiar. Alice? Alice. Alice!
A second shot. The scream replaced by silence, then the patter of several feet on carpet in the hall. Richard raised up from his desk in slow motion. Time got even slower. His feet were lead bricks, just like he always felt in dreams where he was running away from something. He walked a few steps outside his office; peered into the hallway. David, the joker David, laughing David, crept out into the hallway. A large handle protruding from his back. An absurd thought - when did David ever have a handle on anything?
He skirted backward to his office. A quick bound, and his .357 revolver is there - the one that security and his boss do not know about, but he carries because of horror stories he hears. The horror stories of irate clients, of gangs moving from Chicago proper into this neighborhood, of employees losing their minds and killing everyone they know. How much scarier than any story - when it is happening RIGHT DAMNED NOW.
He picked up the phone, dialed the numbers - a quick message for the 911 operator. He checked out into the hall; He saw him. He saw his future stalking calmly straight for him, and the closing of his life. Or was it the opening?
A heavy-set, yet athletic, man, in his late twenties, with Asian features, wearing nothing more elaborate than jeans, a gray shirt, and a windbreaker. Black parted hair and a slightly rough face made him think in a way of Samo Hung – if Samo Hung were a young mass murderer.
A small revolver was in the killer’s left hand, and oddly, a brace of throwing knives adorned his left leg. He stalked up the hall, for all the world looking like the next replacement for the Terminator movie.
Blood on the carpet. Blood on the jeans. Alice is gone. Her killer - now wants HIM.
All his life gone, his friends, and his work in building something that wouldn't be taken away.
"Damn You."
To be continued...
