The Chronomancer

Hall Of Fame!

Survival - 10 Wins!

Brutal - 3 Fatalities

AFFILIATION

Alignment: Villain

Team: The Fallen

VITAL STATS

Strength: Weak

Agility: Weak

Mind: Superior

Body: Weak

RECORD

Personal Wins: 10

Personal Losses: 2

MediaMan

I am the salvation of reality. I say this and people scream arrogance, but there is no arrogance in the truth. The problem is that no one seems to realize just how dire the situation is, so no one does anything about it. No one, that is, but me. Everyone seems to be engrossed in their petty little quests, helping get some cat out of a tree, stopping a mugger or stopping an asteroid or even stopping in invasion. Petty, useless, pointless things in the long run. Those things don't matter and I think I just may be the only one to see this. I know what's important. You think that by stopping the invasion fleets of New Atlantis you have saved the world? Fool. You do not know that a thousand years after you pass on, econmoic collapse will cause your world to lapse into civil war and everything you worked to save will be gone as the deserts turn to glass. Everything most people do is for naught. It is only the blessed few who can see past the veil of unimportance that blinds so many that are able to truely know what is necessary to save the world. Our world. Our reality. Like myself. I know what is important. I know what must be done and what will happen should I do nothing. Observe. More years than your current mathematical system can possibly comprehend in the future, there will be a war, a war greater than all other wars there ever have been combined. The Secret Dance of Devyn Soyokaze manages to prophesize several of the major battles in this war through means I am still attempting to find out. It will be a war for all reality, a last, final gasp by existence against the force of entropy, of Void, to retain the right to exist. You have fought the one known as Quietus, the past Avatar of the Void and he brought massive destruction, did he not? Quietus was but a child. Metaphysicians in the future will have determined that each Avatar of Void grows more and more powerful the longer reality has gone on, reflecting the entropy that grips the omniverse tighter and tighter every second. By the time the war will have come around in the future, the Avatar of Void juggles planes and commands the mightiest of armies while the Avatars of Creation, Light, Darkness, Order, Chaos and Universe are but feeble shadows of themselves, their forces barely able to sustain them as reality ages. This truely was the war to end all wars, for there were going to BE no wars after this. The Void would win and reality would end. It knew this, but fought on anyway. For five millinea the war raged, which is an eyeblink in the grand scheme of things. Finally, the Void was closing in on our last position. The last pocket of existence in, well, existence. All the matter that could be salvaged was gathered in this last place, the Avatar of Creation, Universe and Light preparing for their last stand. Order, Chaos and Darkness were defeat and consumed earlier, at different times, their patrons vanquished to sweet nothingness. I was on that planet. I was their chief research scientist, responsible for the devices that own us many battles. Not that it mattered. I know this now. Nothing we did mattered and the Void knew it. It was patient and knew it could wait. It had all the time in the world and it grew more powerful by the day. Time travel back in time normally wasn't allowed. The further back you went, the more you would change. It was dangerous. You could destroy reality as a livable space. Well, I saw the Void ships, made of the stuff of black holes and neutron stars themselves close in on the planet and I saw the Avatars destroy scores only to be slaughtered themselves and I spat on those rules. I devised what was possibly the most powerful time control device in existence, EVER, and grafted it into my own nervous system before going back in time. Back, back, to the beginning of the war. With my knowledge, I would change things. I would make things right. I hid my true identity, especially to myself, but it was only after a decade that I realized that *I* was the same cloaked stranger that advised our leaders during the war before being killed. And his advice did nothing. It was then that I railed against fate. I knew I was supposed to die, but I refused. I would save reality, somehow. I went further back in time, right before the point I was to die, the planet annihilated as all matter was reduced to dark matter and then nothing. It is here that I feel I left the established timestream, for I visited his tomb when I was a lad and saw proof of his demise. If there wree no body, there would have been no tomb. Further back in time I went. I spent centuries among the millinea. Each time, I carefully researched, planned, executed, did everything I could to reverse the Cataclysm, as I have taken to calling it. It did nothing. New Avatars of Void appeared where I slew the mothers of old ones. Ancestors of generals merely appeared somewhere else even after I turned their planet into a frigid ball of ice by restructuring its geological history. I wondered why time opposed my efforts. After all, if the Void won, then the timestream, too, would vanish. But time and time again, my efforts to avert the deaths of reality were futile. Nothing ever changes. Sometimes, I even made things worse. It tore my heart, it really did. Still, I could not let those deaths distract me from my quest. I went further and further back in time, traveling a thousand planets in a thousand planes. It began to become painfully apparant to me that no single event changed will prevent the Cataclysm. I have done much. I have almost completely rewritten some histories, but to no avail. Something bigger must be done. It was at that point that I remembered the time stream. Was it all predetermined? Or was it the whim of some being even higher than even the 7 Precepts, some surge of energy from without? The germ of a thought appeared in my head. I knew, then, I needed to reach the time stream itself, and when I reached it, merge with it. Become time, become everywhen and then, using my godlike control over time and, by extension, reality itself, stop the Cataclysm. Of course, the timestream itself is more of a metaphor, I feel. What I intend to do it merely gain total and complete control over the flow of time. There would be no great Cataclysm, nor would there be any smaller ones disrupting the lives of people in the future. I would have total control and shepherd the masses into a reality of absolute safety. The control I would possess over time would make that, in the long run, reality would remain SAFE. I spoke with other, lesser, time travelers who told me I could not, I can not. They told me I had gone mad. I told them they were mad for not joining my crusade. I knew where I had to go. Khazan. The Nexus Core was there and through the Core, the time stream could be accessed. I would stay there, bide my time and gain more power. I would find a way to access the time stream and find a way to make it mine. Find a way to make reality safe. Now. And forever.

The common man would call me monster. A callous, jaded monster who cares nothing for the sanctity of life. The fools don't realize that that is EXACTLY why I am the way I am. They are the monsters. They are the ones who don't care about life at all. It is true I have killed, but it has always been for the greater good. The planet I set temporal explosives to, scattering its dust to the solar winds? It would have eventually bred a soldier who would go on to be a general, who would provide battle plans that would be adapted far in the future by another general, who would father the foot soldier that developed a battlefield medical technique which saved the life of the corrupt designer of the Void starships. The women I tortured? She would learn to fear blades, thus preventing her son from ever training with one, who would start a sword technique that one of the millions of faceless assassins of the opposition would then recruit. I take life to PRESERVE life! They, who care so much about preserving the fragile ecology of a planet that will be destroyed in the crossfire of an alien war only eighteen thousand years from now, they dare accuse me of not caring about the important things. Your wishes, your planet, your galaxy, your god, your beliefs, your love, they are all insignificent. You lie awake in bed and ask yourselves, silently, "Does anything I have done matter?" You lie to yourself when you say yes! Very little matters. You do not. Everything you have done does not. But I will try to save you anyway. Do not oppose me, for I am building a reality of absolute safety. With my benevolent control over time, I shall prevent the death of reality. I shall prevent many deaths. Even if I must kill to do so.

Freeze Tachyon Flow

     Teleportation: Supreme

 

The Device. That is all it has been to me, thus far. It has no name, for it was very hastily assembled, mere hours before the Avatars made their last stand, before the Void consumed the last of reality. It grants incredible time control powers, though even these were not enough to stop the Cataclysm during the time when it happened. Still, it is enough, usually, to stop those who dare oppose my quest to save existence. For example, I can, for a few brief seconds, freeze time. Of course, it's far more complicated than that, but that's a dumbed down enough explanation for your tiny brain to comprehend. Once time is stopped, I can usually travel to wherever it is I mean to go unhindered. Time usually starts itself again once I move. To those who oppose me, it seems as if I moved from one place to another without crossing the intermediate distance. They cannot perceive time as I do and so are confused. They call it teleportation. What a delightfully primative phrase.

 

Advanced Temporal Perceptions

     Danger Sense: Supreme

 

Another part of the device is wired directly into my temporal sensation lobes. The more I concentrate, the further and further into the future I can see. Typically, though, my time sense runs a mere five seconds ahead of those of the temporally challenged. Despite this rather impressive handicap in combat, it still serves to usually warn me of the best times to react against threats. Such as a bullet flying towards my head. Your typical would-be assassin usually finds that where there was a prime shot to the temple there is now empty air as the mark is nowhere to be seen. Where did he go, you ask? It is too bad, then, that most cannot predict the future, for then they would be able to see me appear right behind them as time restarts itself.

 

Temporal Distortion

     Mind Blast: Ultimate

 

There are many who anger me. Those who find comfort in things like chocolate and the arms of a lover. Environmentalists. Social justice advocates. Heroes. Plutocrats. The things they love are all so petty, so transient and it annoys me that they can't see it as I do. What angers me most of all, though, are those same people who try to stop my meticulous procedures in my reorganization of time. For those, I have a special treat. Have you ever known what it is to have your senses thrown ten thousand yeard into the future, your temporal lobe thrown eight thousand years into the past and your consciousness thrown across eighteen alternate realities? In my first testings of my device, I did. Time travel is a harsh mistress, though, and given my position in the temporal research department in my own time, I was long ago conditioned for such experiences. I find it highly unpleasent at most. Most temporal natives, however, find it far more than that. They sometimes find it, even, fatal. Sometimes, I neglect to put their minds back in the present all in the same place and leave their minds hurtling through time. Sometimes I remember and they come back shivering, sobbing, drooling and, soon, comatose. I do not deal well with distractions.

 

Minor Temporal Rewrite

     Iron Will: Ultimate

 

Still, even I am merely moral. I cannot see EVERY possibility. It is my failing, one I hope to fix with my ascension. Sometimes, something gets by me. It is then that the true power of the Device reveals itself to the poor temporal savages. To a limited extent, I can rewrite reality. Many have shot me with bullets. Many of those bullets, upon entering my soft flesh, are found to have not left the barrel of the gun at all. In fact, the bullets seem to have disappeared altogether. Sometimes they shoot me with more than bullets. A sorcerer, once, brought a small solar flare right next to me. It was very difficult to rewrite, but rewrite it I did. "What spell?" I sneered before his mind fractured across a thousand eras. As I adjust myself even more into the current timestream, I find my familiarity with its mechanics improves. As such, even the mightiest attacks can be written out of existence, with enough will. One can be rest assured, that if one has walked through the streams of time as long as I have, will is surely the last thing that is lacking.

 

Time Dialation

     Super Speed: Supreme

 

I have almost forgotten what it is to be one of the time bound. To know the agony of having too much time, or the anxiety of having too little. Many time travelers I have encountered don't realize that it is not enough to merely move through the stream; one must be able to adjust the very perceptions OF that stream, or else one is still a prisoner to it. I have freed myself from such drudgery as chronal-singularity long ago with what once appeared to many to be nothing more than a simple cane. In truth, it was a tool that can change the course of mighty rivers. Now, however, this part of the Device, like all other parts, is bound to my body, as much a part of me as my heart or hand. Moving from point to point on the stream is not always necessary, when all one needs to do sometimes is simply change its flow. When time slows to a crawl and my movements are naught more than a blur, you shall know what it is to be a prisoner to time. Here. Let me free you.