|
Post by fitzoliverj on Jul 30, 2021 17:09:47 GMT
The Doctor followed his companions' gaze. Two more bountyhunters had joined the glut at the bar; an imperious looking Time Lady and a seamonster with a gun.
(It was the Rani and the Myrka. The Rani was complaining that she'd lost her glasses in the flood, and couldn't recognise anybody in the bar except the round furry thing).
The ladies turned back to the Doctor, and he resumed.
|
|
|
Post by fitzoliverj on Jul 31, 2021 9:13:11 GMT
Gulp! Gulp! Gulp! The Clara Predator could barely think, but it was definitely enjoying itself, swallowing screaming Clara splinter after screaming splinter.
No matter how fast they ran, its vast tongue grabbed them and pulled them into its maw.
It was only a few hundred meals away from Clara-prime. And the only thing between her and certain doom was the slim possibility that the Doctor might manage to get Lara and Gabby to listen to his explanations....
|
|
|
Post by timegirl on Aug 1, 2021 1:50:26 GMT
The Doctor took an acoustic guitar seemingly out from midair...
|
|
|
Post by fitzoliverj on Aug 1, 2021 8:50:16 GMT
"I can see you're not really interested," the Doctor concluded, strumming. "I'll sing you one of my songs instead."
"No!" cried Gabby, a little too loudly and a little too quickly.
"I want to know why that monster tried to kidnap me," protested Lara, "and what's so important about me."
Had the Doctor known that every delay doomed another twenty Claras to the gullet of the Predator (which he didn't, not having actually got as far as getting to the Planet ofthe Claras to find out what was going on), he wouldn't have delayed. The fate of his own true Clara was at stake, and he didn't even know....
GULP!
GULP!
|
|
|
Post by fitzoliverj on Aug 3, 2021 18:15:30 GMT
At the crest of a hill, a young woman - or, at least, somebody who resembled a young woman - looked down into the valley toward the herds of screaming Claras approaching.
She - if it was a she; it looked like a she; a young woman, very pale, with dark, dark hair - sighed and set to work, marking out a sort of trackway with a large stick. It was curved, undulating, and had a long, curved blade at one end, at more-or-less right-angles to the shaft.
"Very well," she said decisevly, "if Time wants this all sorted out, sorted out she will be. And Pain will be pleased, too." She addressed these remarks to a large raven, that sat on a nearby stile, watching with a sort of impassive attention.
"When Clara passes the first mark," she instructed it, "you will fly to her. Understand?"
The raven said nothing.
"Then, once she is no longer a fixed point in time," the woman continued, "you will have just enough time to fly back. As you pass this second mark, here" - she indicated with her scythe - "the Predator will gobble her up, and that will be the end of both Clara Oswald and the unfortunate anomalous immortality bit that's had Time so worried. Worried, but it's muggins here who has to fix it."
She looked from left to right. "Surely being eaten alive's a horrible way to go, you'd think that Pain would have come along to watch."
"Caw," observed the raven.
"Met her, too," the woman said distractedly. She peered over the brow of the hill, and spotted the Claras approaching, Clara-Prime just ahead of the Predator. It would cause everybody a lot of problems if it got to her too early.
"Still, not our problem," the woman observed. She thrust her scythe into a bush and turned to the raven. "Showtime."
The raven raised itself from the fence, and got into a more-or-less state of readiness to leap.
Beep-beep-beep-beep-beepedy-beep.
The woman sighed once more, and pulled a mobile phone from her pocket. "Hallo? Thanos? No, I *don't* want to have dinner. I'm busy. Washing my hair. Working. Stop calling." She threw the phone down the slope. Good riddance.
It narrowly missed the first of the Claras... there were only ten left, all told. The woman, who was not a woman, hurried to one side. The raven leaned forward.
A second Clara ran past, in terror of the creature pursuing her.
Seven more to come, then- action!
***
The Doctor, little realising how much time he was wasting, still hadn't explained what Lara's significance was. He didn't think that there was any value in visiting the Planet of the Claras till he and Lara had had a hearts-to-heart. He didn't know how another delay would ensure that Clara would be meeting Death any second now...
|
|
|
Post by grinch on Aug 3, 2021 18:39:36 GMT
“Basically,” elaborated the Doctor to Lara. “You’re a part of it, that it desperately needs. The reason to its rage, the intellect to its Id, the pillars to its wobbly roof.”
Lara looked at him with the utmost bafflement.
“I have no idea how it happened, but somehow you and the Predator were separated. No doubt it was looking for you to complete it.”
“And the Predator?” inquired Gabby who was very much intrigued by this story.
“No doubt it is now purely driven by its appetite. A slave to its stomach if you will. Looking for whatever splinter it can to try and reassert its mind.” explained the Doctor.
|
|
|
Post by fitzoliverj on Aug 3, 2021 18:51:31 GMT
"Hang on, I couldn't help but overhear," remarked the Rani, "what's all this about a Predator?"
"Oh, what are you doing here, Ushas?" snapped the Doctor. "Go back and drink with your disreputable friends."
"I'm collecting your little friends," the Rani exulted. "I'm going to kill all the Claras in the universe! So this talk about Predators worries me."
The Doctor picked up a sheaf of papers. "Found this when I sat down. Somebody must have forgotten them when they dropped in for a quick drink. Convenient, that? I wouldn't have known anything about it otherwise. Apparently, it's all a Time Lord plan to get all the Clara splinters that.... I believe, you gathered together? To throw them all to a Predator. Fortunately," he continued, with 100% inaccuracy, "the Predator is locked away from them. But with Lara's help I can put a stop to it entirely. Now we're all on the same page."
The Rani, a trifle worse for wear for drink, wasn't sure whether to support this plan or stop it. On the one hand, she didn't want anybody else to kill the Claras, but on the other hand, she did't want the Doctor to sav-
"Oh, you've gone," she muttered. The Doctor, Gabby and Lara had already left.
***
Four Claras.
Three Claras.
Two Claras.
The raven launched itself into the air.
|
|
|
Post by fitzoliverj on Aug 3, 2021 18:54:00 GMT
The War Doctor emerged from the bar, and called across to the proprieter. "I can't find anything in your 'lost-and-found'. These papers are important. Where else can I look?"
|
|
|
Post by grinch on Aug 4, 2021 14:44:12 GMT
And from the various cracks in the Multiverse, shadows spilled out and looked on. And nodded in grim approval.
|
|
|
Post by fitzoliverj on Aug 8, 2021 11:58:49 GMT
Peer through the cracks.... try to catch a sight of... the Mirror Universe.
The Mirror Universe, Planet of the Claras; the Empire of Clara.
Empress Clara sits upon her throne of ivory and gold, surrounded by the ladies of the court, all of whom are her splinters. At her side, stands her loyal and loving husband, the Slave Consort, the Doctor, dressed in his customary black and sporting his beard of office.
And kneeling before the throne, bleeding and broken, the criminal; the insolent, the revolutionary, the Time Lord known only as the Master. He looks up at the Empress and declares, "in the name of all that is good and holy, I shall overcome you! Your regime of tyranny will fall!"
|
|
|
Post by grinch on Aug 8, 2021 12:04:54 GMT
Empress Clara laughed in sheer delight and motioned for her guards to take him away. Admittedly, she had considering executing him. However many times that would take. But she had no desire to make him a martyr.
Better to keep him imprisoned to eventually be forgotten as her empire continued to expand outwards.
As her guards dragged the struggling Time Lord across the ground, he called out imploringly towards his old friend. The Empress glanced at her consort. Seemingly his words had, had no effect on him.
Still, better to be safe than sorry as she mentally noted down that she would have to keep an closer eye on him from now on.
|
|
|
Post by fitzoliverj on Aug 8, 2021 12:08:10 GMT
"Summon the Royal Offspring!" the Empress demanded. Two servants scampered off to bring into her presence the Rainbow Duchess and her sibling, the Nameless Marquess.
|
|
|
Post by grinch on Aug 8, 2021 12:48:42 GMT
Deep within the dungeons of the Citadel, the Master languished. He looked around at his cell and knocked experimentally on the walls. Dwarf Star Alloy, typical.
“Yeah, not exactly the Ritz, is it?” a voice called out from the shadows.
The Master paused before addressing the mysterious voice.
“Frobisher, is that you?” he asked.
There was a throaty chuckle.
“After a fashion” he remarked. “But then again, it’s hard to have a definite sense of self when you’re a shape changer -“ he coughed again. “Sorry, been a while since I’ve had anyone to talk to.”
“Come out of the shadows and let me see you.” commanded the Master. For all his faults, Frobisher was still a useful ally to have in a crisis. And he hadn’t seen him since Racco burned.
There was a pause.
“I’d rather not.” said Frobisher.
“Frobisher -“
“Please, don’t make me.” pleaded the Whifferdill.
The Master took a deep breath and walked closer to him....
Up in the throne room, the doors opened and in walked in the Empress’s children. The Rainbow Duchess was clad entirely in battle armour, scarred by many a battle while her sister the Nameless Marquess wore a cloak which covered her entire form, his head bowed. The Duchess shot her sister a withering look. Such a wretched creature.
|
|
|
Post by fitzoliverj on Aug 10, 2021 18:26:48 GMT
"Ah, monomorphia," sighed the Master sympathetically.
Frobisher looked down at his clusmy body with shame. "If I'd known I'd get stuck like this," he said, "I'd never have chosen a Great Auk."
The Master observed the Pinguinus impennis that stood before him. A flightless bird from the North Pole would not be a great ally in his struggle.
***
Meanwhile, the Doctor had retreated to his personal quarters, a small suite of rooms attached to those of the Empress by a brief corridor that was home to the guard who had the responsibility for unlocking the doors as the Empress commanded; he also served as the Doctor's valet and butler, and had laid in - the Doctor did not doubt - a selection of poisons for the day that the Empress grew tired of the Slave Consort.
The Doctor put his ear to the door. He could hear Sir Nardole Hydroflax snoring gently in his little cubbyhole; good, no chance of being disturbed. The Doctor lifted up a floorboard and produced a bundle wrapped in his silken dressing-gown, the one he claimed had got damaged in the wash. He unwrapped it, uncovering a crystal ball, perfectly spherical.
Placing it upon a little table, the Doctor stared intently into its depths. He could see an image at the very centre. It was of his wife, the eEmpress, but she was running - running for her life. Pursued? He could not see what by. But there was another woman standing by, dark-haired. And aloft - a raven?
What could this mean?
|
|
|
Post by grinch on Aug 10, 2021 18:55:17 GMT
“So they’ve stuck you down here, have they?” asked the Master still inspecting his cell in the vain hope of discovering some hidden fracture he could exploit.
Frobisher nodded. “Apparently, I’m quite the collectors item now.”
The Master raised an eyebrow.
“They burned, Master. All of them. The entire Whifferdill race wiped out in a single moment.” He looked off for a moment, simply staring into the shadows. Or perhaps at something else entirely. Something that only he could see.
He couldn’t help but feel sorry for his old friend. Yes, Frobisher may have made it clear on several occasions that he wasn’t exactly fond of his race, but what was it an old friend of his once said?
“ A man should have a race. A people, an allegiance. A man should belong.”
A Whifferdill even more so.
He wondered where exactly Davros was now. Dead? Languishing in some hole somewhere? Perhaps he was simply in hiding, devising some new weapon, some new plan to fight back. He sighed.
What he wouldn’t give to have a few Daleks on hand right now.
Then, he had an idea. A most marvellous idea.
|
|
|
Post by fitzoliverj on Aug 10, 2021 19:46:12 GMT
Of course! The Moral Warrior!
Everybody had heard of Kerr Avon, the most noble and valiant of all those who served the Empress; the only, in fact, truly noble spirit amongst that number. The Master had never encountered him, but had heard tell of how this merciful and trustworthy knight had entered into service under the Empress, deeming her the lesser of two percieved evils. If the Master could bring Avon before him, perhaps he could use his mental powers to free the Moral Warrior from whatever compunction allowed him to serve, not oppose, the Empress's might. He could even, perhaps, be the Master's means of tracking down the leader of the resistance, the mysterious wanderer in a battered starship, Servalan.
Of course, the Master was stuck in a cell. He picked up a tin mug and rattled ita gainst the bars. "Hey, service!" he called out.
The seneschal of the dungeons stamped up to the bars. He was a shrunken ogre by the name of Strax.
"What do you want?" he demanded. It did nto escape the Master's notice that Strax bore a whip at his side.
***
The Doctor leant back. So, another world. Anothe rworld, with another Clara, who entered the timestream nto for conquest, but for his own sake. What, then, if she died? What would happen to the Empress?
There was a noise outside the room. Hurriedly, the Doctor hid the crystal ball under his gown once more.
|
|
|
Post by grinch on Aug 10, 2021 20:16:32 GMT
“I only wanted to say hello” said The Master, quite innocently.
Strax grunted and went to walk off. The Master called out after him.
“How about a staring contest?”
Strax paused and turned to look back at him.
“A contest?”
“A challenge, if you will.” said the Master.
Strax walked closer to him.
“What sort of challenge?” asked Strax.
The Master grinned. Hook, line and sinker.
“Oh, just a simple staring contest” he replied. Strax nodded. Clearly he had accepted the challenge.
“Come now, you’ll have to get a lot closer than that if this is to be a fair challenge” he remarked.
Strax approached him.
“A bit closer.”
He did.
“A little closer. Ah, now that’s perfect”
He stared the Sontaran straight in the eyes.
“I am the Master, and you will obey me...”
|
|
|
Post by fitzoliverj on Aug 10, 2021 20:58:39 GMT
The Empress sighed. "I would fain be entertained," she told her courtiers. "Send for my minstrel."
Within minutes, the Empress's minstrel had been ushered into the throneroom, although any independent witness might have described Brenda Soobie as less of a minstrel, more a night-club singer. She was followed by her attendent, Polar, who carried her microphone stand and amplifier; his mouth sown up to prevent another sententious, not to mention seditious, lecture on the evils of self-indulgence and on the desirability of self-abegnation, self-denial, ascetism, and (particularly) abstemiousness. Any other member of the court who told the Empress that strong drink was a mocker would have been executed; however, the Empress fancied herself sentimental and said that Polar reminded her of the inhabitants of Tickle Town who had so entertained her as a child.
It did not escape Polar's attention that the Empress's professed favourite, Hopalong Harry, had long been confined to one of the darker dungeons of her castle.
***
As the door to his chambers opened from the outside, the Doctor could hear the far-off sound of Brenda Soobie's warbling floating into the room.
|
|
|
Post by grinch on Aug 11, 2021 13:59:03 GMT
The Master walked behind a now hypnotised Strax as a feeble and quite meek Frobisher followed behind him.
As they made their way through the dungeons, he glanced into a few of the cells as they past them. Many of which were empty aside from being littered with the skeletons and decayed remains of inhabitants long since past. But many were still occupied. Huddled and hiding in the shadows. Desperately trying to avoid being noticed lest they be punished.
His attention was drawn to one particular inhabitant of the cell. A creature which resembled a large furry ball and which was shackled to the ground, mewling softly. He recognised him immediately. Beep the Meep. The benevolent leader of the Meeps whose planet had been crushed by the forces of Empress Clara.
She really was a monster he thought to himself. How could she have destroyed without a second thought the kind and cuddly species that was the Meeps?
He considered releasing him, if only to spare him from this fate. But no. There was no point. One look at the former ruler told him all he needed to know. His spirit had been crushed and he had retreated into his own subconscious. Never to return. Hopefully, to the place much better than this.
He shook his head. No, there was no time for distractions. Best to keep focused on the task at hand.
|
|
|
Post by fitzoliverj on Aug 11, 2021 16:23:15 GMT
"Not watching the show?" the Doctor asked, as Commander Pink strode into his room. The Doctor did not enjoy the company of Commander Pink;he suspected that his wife had promoted the man so she could have him on hand when she decided that the Slave Consort had outlived his usefulness.
"I'm working," Pink replied flatly. "Reports are coming in that the terrorist cell known as 'Travis's Seven' have been spotted on one of the outer planets."
"Servalan," the Doctor mused. "You think she's planning an attack upon the Empress's throneworld?" He wasn't sure whether this was bad or good news, but he certainly didn't want to show that he thought it might be.
"You must erect the temporal shield," insisted Pink. "Protect the world in case." He motioned towards the door.
"Fine, fine," the Doctor muttered, "just let me get a few things."
He pottered round the room, onstensibly collecting sonic screwdrivers and other bits and bobs, whcih he hoped would distract Pink's attention from the bundled dressing-gown he also placed into a convenient drawer.
Then they left, headed for the Doctor's laboratory.
***
"Now, open the door," the Master commanded.
Strax, stiffly, produced a set of keys and opened the main door out of the gaol. Beyond it lay a set of stone steps, heading upwards.
"Do you know the way to Lord Avon's rooms?" the Master asked.
Strax nodded, slowly.
The Master held out an arm towarrds the stairs. "Then, lay on, Macduff."
Strax stood there, motionless, unblinking.
"I don't think he understands," quacked Frobisher.
The Master rolled his eyes. "Strax, take us to Lord Avon."
Strax nodded once more, and began to stump his way up the staircase. The Master followed. Frobisher examined the first of teh steps, and essayed a little jump. This was going to take some time.
|
|