Tygrvason brings us a world of experience in telling the difference between right and wrong. He'll help us stay on the right path. Seek out his advice. -- Michael
-
I had a past: his name was Andrew Pane. A respected judge, until some unfortunate events... I'll get to that in just a moment, if you please.
Take a moment and clear your thoughts from the petty disturbances of the day… Good. Now that this hearing is in session, allow me to begin.
The first of many strange days began as a typical murder case. The people crying, lawyers failing to confuse me with their vocabulary, and the usual crazies in the audience: another day at work. As the majority of the evidence faced against the criminal, it seemed it would be a pretty short day as well. However, when the jury returned evenly undecided (and looking a little guilty themselves), I knew something was not right. I ordered a retrial for the next morning, and dismissed the court. When all had left, I promptly returned to my office, fixed on calling the sheriff. Someone had paid my men well to do what they did. To my surprise, I found the sheriff himself already cozy in my expensive suede office chair. I will reenact our charming conversation you now.
"Hello Sheriff... I would ask if something is the matter, but I already know."
"Ah, non, Your Honor, I'm afraid zhat you don't." (He had this awful French accent, and was enunciating every word slowly as if I were too unintelligent to understand him.)
I frowned and moved closer. As I did so, he pulled out a briefcase. And just like some of the unoriginal stories of my witnesses, he unlocked this silver case to display a large sum of money.
Immediately I knew what he was trying to do, and I declined. Unfortunately, as he continued, it didn't seem that I had much choice in the matter.
"Zhere is a man outside your window with a rifle scope aimed at your forehead. Eizher you take zhe money, or I take your face, what ever is left of it." With a stern glare I took the money and left. The criminal would be set free the next day. And I hoped it would be the last of my injustices. But naturally, as you are not presuming, it was not.
The second incident was a more debatable trial, in which a girl was being charged with the murder of her father. She had apparently shot him in self-defense. Still, her sincerity won out most of the audience, and it was expected she be sent home innocent. However, as the jury returned, I saw the same twitchy look among them. Once again they voted undecided and I had no choice but to order a retrial. I was not as ignorant this time to return to my office alone. To my surprise, the room was empty. I felt relieved. Maybe it wasn't what I feared. And then, as I was letting my guard down, the sheriff appeared from behind my securely locked door. D*mn his master key. And so, just as before, he threw a case of money at me and gestured at the window.
Fool me once, fool me twice... But he would not fool me a third time.
The next time I saw him was a quiet day in the office. No reason for him to be there if he expected me to use my authority of law unjustly.
"No more," I told him.
He flashed a wicked smile. "I didn't come here today to do business. I came here to inform you zhat the police are arriving to arrest you for your illegal negotiations."
Just like that, he had turned the tide against me. I barely noticed him leave as a sharp headache took me. I am unsure precisely how long later, but when my headache began to settle, I heard the back door of my office being unlocked. I wasn't going to go down without a fight. Not this time. Unlocking my bottom desk drawer, I withdrew my handgun and turned sharply to aim at the intruder.
"Easy friend," he said to me. "I am here to help you."
"I've had enough help here lately," I snapped back. But as I finished my words, I heard the sound of sirens wailing down the street. I had no choice but to follow my unexpected rescuer.
I was told the Truth, accepted it, and joined the ranks of Zion. When I was given my first assignments in the Matrix however, I demanded a change of appearance. They thought this was strange no doubt, but complied with my wishes and told me where to go. Even if my death as a bluepill had been faked, I wanted to be reassured that no one would recognize me. No police, no sheriff... I did what I did for my own peace of mind. I acquired a facial tattoo and nose ring to mask my identity and sat through a permanent hair-dye treatment to seal the deal. Once I felt secure, I got to work.
I rose quickly through the ranks. Since I was able to maintain my calm under pressure and lead teams with confidence, Zion never doubted me. Until Morpheus. The Council has been edgy ever since. Still, Morpheus's words did appeal to me. I had heard the stories about Neo. I wanted proof, evidence... a body. I wasn't afraid of breaking the truce to find that. If I died, I wanted to die knowing.
Then came the night I found Michael... an eager lad, but in need of some guidance. I offered my assistance to his cause, and due to my experience in law I was soon elected public moderator. I represent you, the people, and I represent Michael.
I have spoken; I have told. Now you may hold your peace.
~ Tygrvason
-
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
I am here because of the One.
Spem reduxit.
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
I came after the war, but I knew my own.
Tempora mutantur et nos mutamur in illis.
And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? and what dread feet?
Dispite my past, I was shown the light.
Non sum qualis eram.
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
The beast was tamed.
Ordo ab chao.
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
I believe.
Sapere aude.
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
Now I stand for you.
Multis e gentibus vires.
-In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
I am here because of the One.
Spem reduxit.
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
I came after the war, but I knew my own.
Tempora mutantur et nos mutamur in illis.
And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? and what dread feet?
Dispite my past, I was shown the light.
Non sum qualis eram.
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
The beast was tamed.
Ordo ab chao.
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
I believe.
Sapere aude.
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
Now I stand for you.
Multis e gentibus vires.
I had a past: his name was Andrew Pane. A respected judge, until some unfortunate events... I'll get to that in just a moment, if you please.
Take a moment and clear your thoughts from the petty disturbances of the day… Good. Now that this hearing is in session, allow me to begin.
The first of many strange days began as a typical murder case. The people crying, lawyers failing to confuse me with their vocabulary, and the usual crazies in the audience: another day at work. As the majority of the evidence faced against the criminal, it seemed it would be a pretty short day as well. However, when the jury returned evenly undecided (and looking a little guilty themselves), I knew something was not right. I ordered a retrial for the next morning, and dismissed the court. When all had left, I promptly returned to my office, fixed on calling the sheriff. Someone had paid my men well to do what they did. To my surprise, I found the sheriff himself already cozy in my expensive suede office chair. I will reenact our charming conversation you now.
"Hello Sheriff... I would ask if something is the matter, but I already know."
"Ah, non, Your Honor, I'm afraid zhat you don't." (He had this awful French accent, and was enunciating every word slowly as if I were too unintelligent to understand him.)
I frowned and moved closer. As I did so, he pulled out a briefcase. And just like some of the unoriginal stories of my witnesses, he unlocked this silver case to display a large sum of money.
Immediately I knew what he was trying to do, and I declined. Unfortunately, as he continued, it didn't seem that I had much choice in the matter.
"Zhere is a man outside your window with a rifle scope aimed at your forehead. Eizher you take zhe money, or I take your face, what ever is left of it." With a stern glare I took the money and left. The criminal would be set free the next day. And I hoped it would be the last of my injustices. But naturally, as you are not presuming, it was not.
The second incident was a more debatable trial, in which a girl was being charged with the murder of her father. She had apparently shot him in self-defense. Still, her sincerity won out most of the audience, and it was expected she be sent home innocent. However, as the jury returned, I saw the same twitchy look among them. Once again they voted undecided and I had no choice but to order a retrial. I was not as ignorant this time to return to my office alone. To my surprise, the room was empty. I felt relieved. Maybe it wasn't what I feared. And then, as I was letting my guard down, the sheriff appeared from behind my securely locked door. D*mn his master key. And so, just as before, he threw a case of money at me and gestured at the window.
Fool me once, fool me twice... But he would not fool me a third time.
The next time I saw him was a quiet day in the office. No reason for him to be there if he expected me to use my authority of law unjustly.
"No more," I told him.
He flashed a wicked smile. "I didn't come here today to do business. I came here to inform you zhat the police are arriving to arrest you for your illegal negotiations."
Just like that, he had turned the tide against me. I barely noticed him leave as a sharp headache took me. I am unsure precisely how long later, but when my headache began to settle, I heard the back door of my office being unlocked. I wasn't going to go down without a fight. Not this time. Unlocking my bottom desk drawer, I withdrew my handgun and turned sharply to aim at the intruder.
"Easy friend," he said to me. "I am here to help you."
"I've had enough help here lately," I snapped back. But as I finished my words, I heard the sound of sirens wailing down the street. I had no choice but to follow my unexpected rescuer.
I was told the Truth, accepted it, and joined the ranks of Zion. When I was given my first assignments in the Matrix however, I demanded a change of appearance. They thought this was strange no doubt, but complied with my wishes and told me where to go. Even if my death as a bluepill had been faked, I wanted to be reassured that no one would recognize me. No police, no sheriff... I did what I did for my own peace of mind. I acquired a facial tattoo and nose ring to mask my identity and sat through a permanent hair-dye treatment to seal the deal. Once I felt secure, I got to work.
I rose quickly through the ranks. Since I was able to maintain my calm under pressure and lead teams with confidence, Zion never doubted me. Until Morpheus. The Council has been edgy ever since. Still, Morpheus's words did appeal to me. I had heard the stories about Neo. I wanted proof, evidence... a body. I wasn't afraid of breaking the truce to find that. If I died, I wanted to die knowing.
Then came the night I found Michael... an eager lad, but in need of some guidance. I offered my assistance to his cause, and due to my experience in law I was soon elected public moderator. I represent you, the people, and I represent Michael.
I have spoken; I have told. Now you may hold your peace.
~ Tygrvason
Message Edited by The_Kid on 05-09-2006 02:51 PM
why are they always complicated names? can we have another MOTD?
