The Red Planet, Alpha Dome (TS:GL3 Week 1)


[Currently open to Daron, UnityPrime(John-12), GultorUf (Uhryu Tyrone), Scribe, and Kul Gul Rapi (Kulal)

Deep below the Alpha Dome City on Mars was one of the many bases for the Iron Republic’s Four Horseman program. Genetically Engineering cloned soldiers to go back in time and keep the timeline from being changed by Time Travelers was shockingly hard work. The facility had a constant stream of human scientists wandering around.

Daron, John-12, Ku’lal, Scribe and Uhryu Tyrone arrived with Death in a flash of blue light. They were in the underground facility just outside what looked like apartments with glass walls. Each apartment was designed like a panopticon so the scientists could watch the three inhabitants as they went about their daily training, exercise and sleep routines.

Each room was themed, and the corridors that connected them were studded with trophies on the wall. Each trophy was from a different kill. The red hat from Maverick Multi-mancer, the blue robes from his apprentice Armenius, General Tharr’s thigh bone, and tools and bits from many other temporal criminals.

Death led the motley crew into the underground apartment complex. Drones and Meks flitted about, watching every action done by the visitors.

Death opened a door leading into a chamber with couches, a refrigerator unit filled with dull beige ration packets, and a few fold out beds.

“Welcome to the Iron Republic Division of Temporal Strategic Resource. We make sure that assholes like Mortis Leonin don’t fuck everything up for everyone. So you’re all victims of a Time Crime, and according to the laws of the I.R. you all have death warrants on your head. It is rather unfair.”


A giant of a man with milky white complexion and long blond hair opened the door, looked in, saw Death, nodded and was about to close the door when he noticed the visitors.
“Hmm who doe we have here?” asked War as he absentmindedly rubbed the tattoo of a big axe on his chest.

Death said, "This one is John-12, a Unity Builder. This one is Scribe, former devotee of Loki, and now governor of Deryyanheim on Refuge. The silent one over there is Uhryu Tyrone of the Karovians. The one with the stone axe is Daron, a former member of the Borvian Dragons. "

“And this one?” asked War as he stood eye to eye with Ku’lal.

“Kul’al, born of the Kul Gul Rapi, a subcommander among the Kolgul Militia on Refuge,” said Death, “And a dangerous Nosferatu, so keep your throat away from him,” Death replied.


Scribe raised an eyebrow. “So even if we want nothing more to do with this mind bending, history changing, life ending pile of madness, because a sycophant dragged us along, we are all dead. is that what you are telling me?”


War pointed at Ku’lal’s hand still injured and clenching the splinters that dug their way into his fingers. Unlike the rest of his body the hand felt alive, and actually hurt a little where the splinters had entered the flesh. He looked down and concentrated on the hand, and the splinters extended like claws.

The fur near the claws had frost on them, and all in the room felt the temperature drop when this new claw extended.

Death flipped out a scanner and took some readings and said, “Hmmm…”


Death glanced at Scribe, "A sycophant dragged you along?
And I thought you were a team of mercs hunting down Mortis
Leonin…I wonder if I was mistaken…

A bunch of mercs who understand the need to not change the past I can use…

A bunch who find this to be life ending pile of madness are only worth feeding to the Beta Brethren."


“Changing what was can change things that most others think very little of. Like John here showing technomancy to someone who’s name goes down as The Terror of Dunesphere. I may not have the knowledge you have, but I do know that it caused changes.” Scribe said with a shudder.

“Changes that could have results we would never have liked. I am more then a simple mercenary. I am a scholar. You mentioned that you know of my conection to Loki? Then you should also know that I try to out think my opponents, even get them to fight them selves. But this is a whole new level of thought. To many unknowns, far to much temptation to change things without knowing the full consequences. And to top it all off this whole thing is interfering with my research in combating demonic beings.”


The door popped open and a emaciated black gentleman with sunken eyes entered. Famine politely cleared his throat, “Excuse me, gents. I noticed nobody showed up to the weekly poker game. I learned the darn game just to play with you guys. The least you could do is tell me you’ve been assigned to a mission.”

War said, “Oh sorry. I got a bit distracted on the last mission. A freaking Zombie outbreak at Miami International. Nearly got my face bit off.”

“The Resistance dogs back there?” asked Famine, “Did they bring the Zombie plague?”

“Yes…and No,” said War with a sinister laugh, “There were Resistance members but they were handled. They didn’t bring the zombies though. I checked with the local feds. Seems as though they found a Zombie Lord, and the feds were trying to weaponize it. But as to where the Zombie Lord came from original? I don’t know.”

Famine looked down at Ku’lal’s hand and said, “Whew that doesn’t look good…”

“The splinters are definitely growing,” said Death, “They have bonded with your lifeforce…sucks for you. But it might have a benefit for us.”

“What benefit?” asked Famine.

"Im picking up some radiation, " said Death, “The same type I find in the claws of a Da’uhnb. I think this claw may be able to apprehend Nemesis-class entities.”

He noticed the blank look on everyone’s faces.

“Demons, Ancient Evils,” confirmed Death, “This claw can contain some types of those beings.”


Death looked at Scribe without even a single bit of compassion. His skull helm showed no emotions, but he waited until the little one finished his statements.

"Scribe is correct in so far as keeping the timeline from changing is very very important. Hiding what one does is very important.

What he is incorrect about is the idea that this is interrupting your lives."

Death’s eyeless skull moved from person to person in the room, lingering only long enough to make them feel uncomfortable.

“Know now, you are already dead. Not by my choice, but by Mortis Leonin’s. If I return you to your timeline his agents will be waiting to eliminate you,” said Death, “If you are sure you want to just return to your own timeline, then our dusky friend will return you home?”

Famine motioned for anyone who wanted to leave to follow him.

Before they leave, Death said, “Once you step through that door there is no coming back. Make your choice now.”

Death continued, “If you stay, you will follow my orders, and do so without question. If you succeed in your missions, you will be well rewarded with both money and technology, and will be returned to your home once the threat of Mortis Leonin has passed.”

Famine motioned to the door, waiting to see who would follow.


Daron thought about this for a moment. He had been happy to be free of a military. But it seems events were against him on this.

Daron says "I will stay and help capture, kill, whichever, this Mortis Leonin. I do expect the rewards for it, but that thing needs to be stopped.

Do we get other gear depending on the time to help in this?

I expect your a part of a larger army, or something like that. I have no issues following orders of leaders. Are you are only leaders? Is there a chain of command? If not, Do we get a rank, or are we the lowest? I’ve been on the lowside of an army before and worked my way up. I’m not very keen to be back in the minion position again. "

Daron thought of this as another job, and another army. there must be leaders whose orders you followed. The question was how many did he have to obey.


John considered the insights he had been given. Multiverse theory did in fact seem to describe the way of things. They were not simply traveling through space/time, it seemed. And yet there were police, of the Iron Republic, no less, who acted as guardians of the timeline. Fascinating. John spoke in his calm way as his skin took on a slightly gray tint.

"I apologize for what inconvenience I might have caused. It seems I have much to learn about what can and cannot be learnt on the planet Refuge. Concepts and belief matter there in a way they do not elsewhere; it is one thing to learn this, but another to observe it.

As to your offer; my primary goal is to apprehend Mortis and acquire the item in his possession. I would be happy to help you insofar as my oaths permit. Like Daron, I am interested to know more about this “outfit”. Am I right to assume that, like you, we are considered convicts by the Iron Republic of this continuity under an effective sword of Damocles to prevent us from interfacing with this iteration of space-time beyond this staging ground? "


Scribe felt his heart give. That Oner had destroyed everything he had made. He felt his eyes water. Closing his eyes for a second Scribe pulled out a small bag from his belt.

Looking right at Death he says “You have a sword smith able to work with unusual material?” He may not be going home, but his old friends from GulTor’Uf would see him through this darkness.


Death said slowly, "We have been given a mandate by the Iron Republic Board of Directors to protect this timeline for the good of the Human species.

Our mandate places us outside the normal Iron Republic chain of command."


War said, “We have three ranks internally.
At the bottom are the Temporal Assassins. Sent back to hunt down people who try and fuck up the timeline.
And psychics, damn those guys always try and take over their society when they express their talents.”


Famine smirked, “Then come us Horsemen. War, Pestilence and I are the second rank. The assassins answer to us.
And the highest rank is held by Death. Apparently you don’t have to be pretty to run this outfit.”


The door swung open and a well fed man of Asian descent entered the room. They all noticed his arms were covered in green buboes.

He seemed quite annoyed, “So you get to haze the newbies without me? Not cool guy.”


Death replied, “We just arrived Pestilence. No offense was intended.”

War stood near Scribe and said, “I have smithy training from about twenty different human cultures. If it can be forged, I can forge it.”


Famine rolled his eyes, "Big War, great at everything if you ask him.

As for gear, our nanite assemblers will provide you clothing weapons and armor perfectly suited to the timeline we send you to. We don’t skimp on keeping the timeline from changing so it will be a perfect replica even when tested under carbon dating if you end up leaving or losing a weapon or armor in the past."


Pestilence tried to jump in but ended up repeating what they had already been told. Each time he finished a sentence Death nodded as if he was watching a centuries old spiel he himself had written.


Finally Pestilence got to some data that seemed new to the assembled travelers. “The place we are in the timeline is the sweet spot. It is technically only a few months in the future from where Leonin originally took you from.
As a result it is a safe operational base firmly in Iron Republic territory.”


Death looked at the unity builder and said, “I know your vows prevent you from killing. Despite the title and rank of Temporal Assassin murder is not a necessity. Often repairs are needed to overturn damage done by rampaging Time Shredders.
While we do not support the use of Technomancy in the past, I know your Unity training as a builder means you can fix or repair just about any bit of Earther technology in the past. Just don’t leave any active nanobots, nanites, or meks in the past.”

Looking at Daron, death said, "Temporal Assassins are considered Elites within IR culture. To keep you from abusing that power the regular Brethren don’t even know about the Temporal Assassins but you will be a respect agent in the eyes of the Board of Directors. I handle all briefings but I make sure to emphasize the good works of our non - cloner members.

Oh and we would provide you unlimited replacement clones in the case of a catastrophic failure or final death in the past…As long as you are maintaining the timeline."