World Enough & Time

World Enough & Time is an ongoing roleplay story within the Mythos Unbound collection written by Grand_Tarkin. Set after his defeat in Of Gods & Aliens, World Enough & Time follows the Time Lord renegade known as "the Master" as he seeks revenge on those who exiled him from time. Set in the late 2990s after the collapse of the Second Federation, World Enough & Time will see the Master face Terra's new superpower. Part 1, titled Diablo, was published on 2 February 2024.

The story's title is taken from the first line of a poem by Andrew Marvell, called 'To His Coy Mistress'. The poem advocates for living life to the fullest, because death is always approaching.

It was announced that World Enough & Time would take the slot of Shadows & Swords II: The House of Tartary. Is it currently scheduled for publication in February 2024 as the third story in the collection.

Grand_Tarkin has announced that World Enough & Time will be a re-telling of a legacy roleplay completed alongside chisel_tip, who has also been brought on as a consultant.

Characters

• The Master, a Time Lord renegade who is marooned in the 2990s after being defeated at the Battle of St. Bernard's Town.
• Gaius Selan, a young Chisel Enterprises officer working in the Diablo Mesa facility.
• Dr. Jeremiah Stone, a Chisel Enterprises scientist and researcher working in the Diablo Mesa facility.
• Hanni Habble

Instalments

No.	Title	Written by	Published	Synopsis
1	"Diablo"	Grand_Tarkin	2 February 2024	It's the year 2998 and it's the end of the world. The Federation has fallen and Chisel Enterprises rules. Just as the corporatists start to enjoy their newfound status, something different falls out of time and into the lap of the new world superpower.
2	"A Terran Hello"		4 February 2024	Chisel Enterprises has captured the Master. Now, his dissection begins. As Gaius Selan tries to break down the Master's bravado and confidence, his patience runs thin. What secrets is the Master holding and how can Gaius get to them?
3	"The Cage"		6 February 2024	The Master meets Dr. Jeremiah Stone, the inventor of a device called "the Cage". Crucial to winning the war against the Federation, the Cage is capable of inflicting great electromagnetic stresses on whatever, or whomever, is put inside. Now that the war with the Federation is over, the device is being used to further the dissection of the Master. But what will be the consequence?
4	"What's Past is Prologue"		8 February 2024	Under the pressure of the electromagnetic storm, the Master's mind is thrown back to the past as they recount the steps that brought them where they are today. As they dip in and out of unconsciousness, the Master's mental defences are slowly whittled away until they reach breaking point.
5	"Echoes"		11 February 2024	The interrogation continues. But this time, as the tables have turned, the Master reveals more of himself than he had ever intended before. Facing death, caused by the electromagnetic storm, the Master makes his final testimony heard. Meanwhile, forces inside the facility begin to conspire to use the Master for their own ends.
6	"Over the Shoulder"		12 February 2024 (expected)	Gaius Selan contemplates the morality of experimenting on the Master. Meanwhile, questions are asked of his loyalty to Chisel Enterprises.
7	"Unto the Breach"		14 February 2024 (expected)	The Master reaches his breaking point.
8	"Hanni Habble's Thirteen Trinkets"		16 February 2024 (expected)	TBA
9	"Lord of the Vials"		18 February 2024 (expected)
10	"Terra Firma"		20 February 2024 (expected)

Part One: "Diablo"

In the dust of the Diablo Mesa, swamped around radioactive sludge and an air of desolation, a facility of true might stood strong. As a beacon of the new world order, it's power could be felt just by being near it. Sharp fences and the churning noise of an odd and alien industry. Yet, it wasn’t alien at all. Every lamppost and hazmat suit was labelled with the same Terran label: ‘Chisel Enterprises’. It was a changing world: it was the time of the Burn and everybody looked out across the crumbled utopian project and wondered… “‘is this the end?’ It was world enough and time.

A small screen screeched as it activated. There was a coarse metal around the outside of the static-filled, glass picture, which was buzzing like an unrestrained sea of uncertainty and outdated technology.

The old style television rested among a pile of wires, broken circuits, and other pieces of scrap everything. Anything and everything that could have been useful; all piled up into strange mountains of copper, steel, and worn-out rubber.

In front of the screen, a man scratched his beard, caressing his finger through a patch of white hair beneath his lip.

“Is it on?” The distant voice shocked the man. He jumped in his seat, turning to see a colleague approach. They both wore the same uniform, stamped with a modular ‘CE’ logo.

The man resumed his religious glare on the screen, almost becoming hypnotised by the flashing greys, blacks, and whites. He shook his head.

“I don’t think Jaresh Inyo has ever been on time in his life.”

The man shot his colleague a cheap smile.

“Oh come on, Gaius.” She wrapped her hands around his shoulder-padded uniform. “Nothing that monster will say is gonna make you, or I, feel any better.”

“I know,” Gaius shrugged. He leant back in his chair, which was equally as battered as everything else in the workshop. “I guess I was hoping for some… hope.”

“The Federation hasn’t given anybody hope in what? 700 years? Come on, Gaius, don’t even watch it.”

The suggestion appealed to Gaius Selan, the young officer who crouched before a broken television, neglecting his duties. Yet, it was too late, the screen ditched its static cloak and turned to a poorly-formed image of the Federation President. Gaius was hooked once more.

The coarse voice of Jaresh Inyo, the last President of the Federation, strained its way through the speakers of the television.

“I have a message for all Federation citizens on Sol 3: Terra. The events that have shaken the galaxy in the past week continue to go unexplained. Whether it be of natural or humanoid-made origin, the impacts of this disaster, which many are now calling ‘the Burn’, cannot go understated. Already, 80% of the Federation’s warp lanes are now inoperable. That number is growing and growing fast…”

Gaius’s colleague chuckled to herself, shaking her head. The voice continued, slow and deliberate, like he was emphasising every word.

“... and now the mission for peace has been stunted, perhaps terminally so. Regardless, the fact remains that there exists five million non-Terrans on Earth. As this disaster continues to mount, their only route off-world is becoming less and less viable.”

“Better not leave ‘em here!” The colleague had entered full sulking mode, with crossed arms and a cursed expression.

The President continued, “So now, the Federation Council are left with no alternative but to use the last available warp lanes to ferry Federation citizens home. Starting this evening, starports across Terra will begin launching ships to Vulcan, Andoria, Tellar, and other worlds that have yet to be impacted by ‘the Burn’. There is limited space and so I have ordered a first-come, first-serve policy to be enforced. Not even members of the Federation Council will have priority…”

“Traitors the lot of ‘em!”

“... to help give as many seats on those starships to as many people wanting to go home, I will be remaining here on Terra myself. As Federation President, I must do all I can to help facilitate this planetary evacuation and-”

Suddenly, the screen cut off. Like a rickety zip that ran to its end, the voice cut off. Gaius burned, smacking the top of the television in the hope that the machine might confuse such brute force with effective engineering. No luck was felt. He sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” the colleague said. “Chisel will send us a message themselves.”

’What?! More propaganda? Great!’ Gaius’s thoughts were almost heresy and so remained locked in the confines of his brain.

The silence in the workshop served one purpose, however. In and amongst the deepest of the piles of debris, another, slanted and circular screen, continued to operate. It was a radar and, on it, a red dot filled the centre of the screen.

Gaius approached the radar, removing his small and circular glasses. “Weird…”

“A vehicle?”

“I don’t think so, the reading’s too scattered. I think- No… it can’t be…”

“What? What is it?”

“I think it’s a man…” Gaius fiddled with the dials on the radar. Adjusting the modulation, re-scanning the area, checking for false-positives. All of them reached the same conclusion: this reading was real. Gaius nodded a confidently uncertain nod.

“But no human could survive out in the radiation…”

The look of realisation stunned both of the officers. As Gaius resisted, contemplating the implications of an alien approaching a Chisel Enterprises facility during the war, his colleague did not. She jumped, reaching for her walky-talky.

“Code Amber. Code Amber. Alien lifeform approaching at coordinates two-zero-one, mark nine. Prepare an intercept team.”

Gaius stood still as he watched his colleague begin a light jog towards the exit of the workshop. She stopped at the door, turning around. “Come on,” she said. “We’ve not had a new toy here in ages!”

Meanwhile, outside the guarded gates and dotted fences of the Chisel Enterprises facility at Diablo, the serenely radioactive mesa spread across the landscape for miles. Aside from the deadly nuclear radiation, the mesa was as beautiful as any natural sight. Nearby, however, the doors to the facility swung open and a team of soldiers swarmed out.

Wearing oddly-formed hazmat gear, the soldiers approached the point on the radar. As they approached, closer and closer, the dust-filled air became less and less of an obstruction. Through their visors and hazmat helmets they saw a figure, wearing a tuxedo, lying face down in the dust and the rock.

Slowly, one of the soldiers approached the body. Reaching out, he flipped it over, revealing the front of the tuxedo, stained in red and orange soot, and the face of the Master. Tensing his eyes, the soldier inspected his face. Suddenly, as the Master’s eyes snapped open, the soldier jumped, pointing his rifle at the warping face in front of him.

The Master smiled, though the structures of his face couldn’t stay stable for long enough to maintain such an expression. His cheeks melted and his eyes moved - almost as if his face were a soup of features and expressions.

He coughed, “more humans? You've got to be kidding me...”

TO BE CONTINUED...