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[personal profile] helloiamthedoctor
Action Tag Sample:
[The comm screen flares to life, revealing a tall figure in a long coat, battered hat, and with an impossibly long scarf draped several times around his neck. He walks closer to the camera and removes his hat, revealing a mass of brown curls. His face breaks into a broad toothy grin as he addresses the camera.

Hello? Why, aren't you a quaint little communications system? Perfectly serviceable, of course, and in the end I suppose that's what matters. But I suppose I'd better learn how to use you properly, shouldn't I? Especially seeing as how the TARDIS may be stuck here for quite some time. Dematerialization circuits don't grow on trees, you know.

Ah, but I'm forgetting my manners.

[Looks directly into the camera.]

To anyone out there who sees this recording... hello! I am the Doctor. I'm a... wellll, I'm a traveler, like many of you, I suspect. And, I suspect also like many of you, I've arrived here a bit by accident. My... vessel is a bit damaged, I'm afraid, otherwise I'd be more than happy to whisk you all to wherever home is -- and whenever home is for that matter. Yes, that means that I travel in time as well as in space. ALthough admittedly, right now I'm only traveling in time the same way you all are: one second at a time, and only in one direction. But perhaps if we all work together we can rectify that situation.

Anyway, if any of you wish to come by and have a chat, you can find both me and my ship in the Supplies Room. Just look for the blue Police Box in the northwest corner. Don't worry, it's a lot roomier on the inside than it may seem. Oh, and it might be a good idea to let that charming young lady Gryf know you're coming; I've found that it's generally safer that way. Tea is at three o'clock; I'll save you a jelly baby. Bye-bye!

[The screen flickers out.]

Third Person Prose Sample:
[NOTE: If possible, I would like to use this as my "How-my-character-got-here" intro, as the ending segues nicely into a meeting with Gryf. Your call, of course.]

When the Doctor regained consciousness, he almost wished he hadn't. He was lying prone on a cold metal floor, but that wasn't what worried him. His head ached in a manner that screamed "I've been shot by a sonic stunner," but that wasn't what worried him either. No, what worried him was the sound he was hearing. It was a very distinctive sound, one that he had heard all too often in his travels. It was a telltale two-beat thrum, like a mechanical heartbeat. A tell-tale heart, the Doctor thought. Next time he made it back to Earth he should suggest the name to that morbid poet fellow from America.

One problem that was growing increasingly apparent, of course, was that the Doctor's chances of ever returning to Earth were becoming slimmer by the moment. Because in all the Universe, that mechanical heartbeat could only be found on one place, and that was one place you most certainly did not want to find yourself. And as if to confirm the Doctor's worse fears, a harsh mechanized voice spoke from behind him.


Which was followed almost immediately by a different, yet equally grating voice directly in front of him: "YOU-WILL-STAND. O-BEY. O-BEY!"

And so he stood. And as he looked around, his worst fears (if indeed the Doctor had fears as we understand them) were realized.

He was on the bridge of a Dalek battle cruiser.

"I don't suppose you'd like to tell me why you've waylaid me like a highwayman on the road?" the Doctor inquired. "Or *how* you've waylaid me, for that matter?"


"Yes, yes, never mind all that," the Doctor cut in. "Sureme power in the universe, exterminate all other life, blah blah, blah, I've heard it all from your lot before. Well you've got me on your ship, and I'm still breathing for the moment, so obviously you want something."


"Ah, I see. Sentence first, verdict after."


The Doctor paused to consider his options. "I don't suppose I'm entitled to legal representation."


For the briefest of moments the Doctor considered if this was a good thing. Before he could completely dismiss the idea, his thoughts were jarred by a klaxon that sounded throughout the ship. The functionary Dalek turned to address its commander.





The Doctor wondered where he had heard that particularly odd grammar before, but dismissed it as unimportant under the current circumstances. The bridge's main screen flared to life, and what it showed did not make the Doctor feel any better about his situation. Tall imposing figures with blank robotic faces and glittering silver bodies. Cybermen.

One of them stepped forward, the trim on his helmet outlined in black as opposed to the silver of the others. The Doctor recognized this as the mark of the authority figure, also known as the Cyberleader (Like the Daleks, Cybermen weren't known for their imagination).




The Command Dalek actually paused for a moment. It couldn't be fear he's feeling, the Doctor thought, as Daleks don't feel fear. Or pity. Cold, souless logic ruled the thought processes of the Daleks -- and the Cybermen.

"NAME-YOUR-TERMS." said the Command Dalek.




"Excuse me," put in the Doctor, "but while it's quite flattering to be wanted so, don't I get a say in which of you gets to kill me?"


"All right, all right," said the Doctor cautiously, as he took a small step back towards the door. The Command Dalek turned back to the screen, where the Cyberleader looked as smug as an emotionless organic brain in a robot body could look.



Much as the Doctor would have otherwise enjoyed what sounded like a verbal sparring session between the London Speaking Clock and Stephen Hawking, he had an escape to manage. Seeing as how all the Daleks on the bridge were paying attention to the Cybermen on the screen, he deftly pulled out his trusty sonic screwdriver and surreptitiously pointed it at the weapons console. A few seconds of ultrasonic whirring later, and...


On the tactical screen, a Dalek beam lanced out and struck one of the Cybermen escort ships, incinerating it.


The screens lit up with weapons fire from both sides. A console on the Dalek bridge exploded in a shower of sparks, and the Navigator Dalek began spinning around erratically, its eye stalk blown off in the explosion.


The Doctor took this opportunity to make his exit. He now aimed the sonic screwdriver at the door controls and was quickly rewarded with the sound of the door servos whirring. "Well I can see you're both busy," he said quickly, "so I'll just pop out for lunch, shall I?"


But the Doctor was already sprinting down the corridor towards where he hoped the TARDIS was still waiting. Behind him the sounds of battle continued, and above the din the Command Dalek's voice rang out: "THE-DOC-TOR-MUST-NOT-ES-CAPE! EX-TER-MIN-ATE! EX-TER-MIN-ATE!! EX-TER-MIN-ATE!!!"

And now the sounds of battle were all around him, as the deadly Dalek beams sizzled the air around his head with near-misses. Rounding a corner, he came upon the sweetly familiar sight of his TARDIS in its now-customary Police Box form. Fumbling for the key, he threw open the lock and fell inside, narrowly avoiding the Command Dalek's deadly weapon. The Doctor sprinted to the console and activated the TARDIS's defenses. His fingers flew over the controls as he fired up the TARDIS. The time rotor at the center of the console began to move, but painfully slowly.

Outside, the battle between the Daleks and the Cybermen continued. The Cyber armada was down to two ships out of the original five, but the Dalek ship was badly hurt.

"SCREENS-FAIL-ING." said the lone subordinate Dalek remaining on the bridge. "WE-MUST-DI-VERT-POWER-FROM-THE-TIME-COR-RI-DOR-TO-MAIN-TAIN-SHIP-IN-TEG-RI-TY."


And so the battle raged on. Back on the TARDIS, the Doctor was fuming; the TARDIS was still held fast by the Time Corridor. Just then, the Doctor felt a slight nudge at his ankle. Looking down, he saw that it was K9, his newly assembled mechanical dog and trusty companion.

"I am fully operational and ready to assist, Master," said the dog with a twitch of his mechanical ears.

"Just in the nick of time K9, as I most assuredly need your assistance!" the Doctor yelled. "Move over there and interface with the energy circuits. When I give the word, open the safety overrides and reverse the polarity of the neutron flow. We need more power if we're to free ourselves from the Dalek Time Corridor; if their ship is destroyed it will take us with it!"

"Warning, Master," K9 replied. "I compute a 63.275% chance that this action will overload several vital components, including the dematerialization circuit. We will be unable to travel further without--"

"I know the math, K9," the Doctor cried, "but if we don't punch our way out of the time corridor we won't be traveling anywhere. Do it NOW!"

"Affirmative, Master. Reversing polarity..."

The time rotor began to move again, while safety alarms blared left and right. Finally, the TARDIS dematerialized mere seconds before the Dalek ship finally gave up the ghost and exploded. Immediately afterwards, one of the six sections of the TARDIS console also exploded in a shower of sparks. The TARDIS's safety protocols kicked back in, initializing an emergency re-materialization at the nearest habitable planet or structure. With an ominous thud and a final shower of sparks, the TARDIS "landed." How far it had traveled in space and time, nobody could know for sure. But at least it was... somewhere.

When the Doctor had the chance to take a look at the damaged console, his shoulders fell. The TARDIS's dematerialization circuit was completely burnt out. Most of the other damaged components could be repaired or replaced with relative ease, but de-mat circuits were another matter entirely. Without it, the TARDIS wasn't going anywhere... or for that matter, anywhen.

"Well then," he said grimly, "wherever we are, it looks like we're going to be here for quite some time. I'm going to have a look round. K9, stay here and start a diagnostic on the TARDIS; I'll need a complete rundown on what needs to be fixed."

"Affirmative, Master," K9 replied with another twitch of his ears. "Cataloguing damaged TARDIS components will take considerable time."

"Then you'd better get started, there's a good dog," the Doctor replied. He then pushed a button on the six-sided console and a panel opened on a wall, revealing a monitor which flared to life. Panning around the exterior of the TARDIS, the scanner showed what appeared to be a huge warehouse. Stretching off into the dim distance in several directions, the Doctor could make out row after row of storage bins stacked floor-to-ceiling on blue metal shelves.

The TARDIS doors opened, and the Doctor stepped out. Before he could take two steps, the business end of a large and nasty-looking hand cannon came into the Doctor's line of sight, perched about an inch below his left eye. The Doctor froze where he was and his eyes slowly swiveled in the direction of the latest threat to his person. Holding the gun with a very steady hand was what appeared to be a young woman with short blond hair and an expression that could only be described as "serious as cancer."

"Who in the hell are you," she queried, "and what are you doing on my Station?"

The Doctor considered her question carefully, especially in light of the weapon being brandished in his specific direction. He was almost sure that he could hear the roar of the ocean in the gun's barrel. Soon enough, however, his face broke out into a broad toothy grin, and he addressed the blond-haired stranger as if she were an old friend.

"Well, my dear," he replied jovially, "the answer to your second question may take a little time for us to work out. But as to your first question, I am The Doctor."

As slowly and non-threateningly as he could, he held out a grubby white paper bag containing a small assortment of brightly-colored sweets.

"Would you like a jelly baby?"

---------- FIN ----------

[NOTE: I have been informed of the impropriety of using Glyf in the manner that she was used above. Rest assured that I don't intend to do such a thing in the course of the game (presuming that my app is accepted, of course), but the scene as written just didn't work as well without this minimal appearance.]


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