The Doctor

((OOC: Apologies for the delay. It's a bit rough, but I've spent so much time tinkering it already I can't even see straight. It is what it is. )) ~ Llandreff, Wales / 11th of August 1879 ~ "Just run," she thought to herself. "If I run then everything will be okay". As the clouds broke to reveal the starscape above her, a tingle of primal terror shuddered down Jessica Ainsley's spine. The rolling hills stretched out for miles before her, dimly lit by the pale grey light of the waxing gibbous moon. She spared a glance behind her before breaking out into a run down the hill, stumbling slightly on the dewy grass beneath her feet. "Run," she thought again. "I've nothing to do but run". A guttural, growling roar shattered the still night air in the woods nearly a mile behind her. Her legs felt as if they were on fire but she pushed them all the harder, her bare feet pounding against the cool hard ground almost as loudly as her heart as it beat a frantic rhythm against her ribs. "Keep running". Her foot slid on the grass beneath her, and she went tumbling to the ground in a tangle of hair and bedclothes. She scrambled to her feet, her hands flailing as she struggled to regain a semblance of balance. She glanced behind her again, and her blood ran cold - a dark, hulking shape lurched forward out of the trees, heading straight for her. She gave a strangled cry as her feet again found purchase, nearly choking on fear. Another roar, this time amplified by proximity, made her scream involuntarily. Unable to restrain herself, she looked back again - and this time could see the pulsing rage that poured from the beast's cold, hateful blue eyes. It leapt into the air and soared above her, bringing with it a stench like stale sweat, fetid blood, and rotting meat. It landed only a dozen feet ahead of her, rising to its hind legs and screeching it's horrible cry at her, its voice growing hoarse at its apex as it unleashed all its terrible might. She came to a sliding stop and bolted to her right, screaming again as the beast almost literally flew into her path once more. As it landed in front of her, its eyes locked with hers. They were a cold, steely blue; but behind the animalistic rage and bloodlust sat an unmistakable intelligence - and an evil that stretched beyond anything nature alone could ever create. It was panting almost as heavily as she was, its foul smelling breath coming in ragged, icy bursts. As it stepped closer, the moonlight fell across its face and illuminated its profile, revealing scabbed and decrepit flesh hanging loosely beneath tangled, mangy fur. The stench of death clung to it tighter than its skin, and poisoned the air around it as it brought its fangs to bear. "RUN," she thought. "YOU HAVE TO RUN, GOD JUST RUN." But before she had the chance it was there, its sinewy arm reaching through the night and throwing her bodily to the ground. She felt a terribly sharp pain in her side as its claws tore through her ribs followed by a spreading warmth down her side. Her shredded nightgown clung to her, sticky with blood, as she rolled across the grass. She tried to lift herself off the ground but her arm didn't have the strength to support her weight. She rolled onto her back as once again the creature was at her; she thrust out her feet and felt them connect with the cold, matted fur of its belly. It hardly seemed to notice, swatting her legs aside as easily as if they were smoke; pain seared through her as she felt her hips crack and her shins splinter from the force. She screamed in pain, but instantly fell silent. Blood flooded into her mouth, her body went numb, and the world around her went dark. ~*~ ~ Harkshire, England / 19th April, 1925 ~ Memoria stalked slowly down the street, the collar of her longcoat popped up against the faint but cold wind brushing against her face, gently ruffling her hair; she absently pushed it out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. She walked with her hands entrenched in the pockets of her jacket, pulling it tight across her stomach both to keep out the wind and to better conceal the glinting silver hilt strapped to her waist. Her eyes surreptitiously scanned the muted darkness all around her while her ears strained to detect even the slightest sound: a single body, most likely a bum or beggar, shifted listlessly in the alley just to her left; a small group of men were shouting and laughing outside a pub a street or two over; the few still-lit gas lamps placed every dozen or so metres along the edge of the street hissed quietly. She meticulously catalogued each sound, then just as carefully dismissed them - they were all of them unimportant, distractions at best - and focused on the one sound she knew was important. A pair of horses tugged at the reins of a large coach somewhere down the street from behind her, and she resisted the urge to spin around to watch it pass. Her fists clenched inside her jacket, but she stared resolutely forward. As the carriage moved swiftly up beside her, she closed her eyes and focused her senses. She latched onto the sounds of the horses; the steady rhythm of their hooves on the cobblestone street, their heavy breathing and snorts, the rumbling of the carriage pulled behind them. They were unnatural, somehow, too high pitched and echoing almost imperceptibly. She turned her gaze up to the carriage, reaching her right hand down towards her belt and clutching the hilt of her rapier. The driver of the coach looked down at her slowly, a friendly smile creeping almost disturbingly slow across his narrow chin. His hair was a whispy sort of white beneath his hat, and his cheeks, nose, and ears were the rosy red of a man who'd been travelling through the chilly streets for a significant time. In a single motion she lunged forward, grabbed hold of the side of the carriage and using it to propel herself onto it. The driver flickered in his seat briefly. and his smile slipped from his face almost instantly - along with the majority of his skin, revealing blood-soaked sinew and bone beneath. He snarled gorily at her, his milky white eyes narrowing with loathing. "Die, girl!" he hissed. He thrust his arm out towards her, and she felt an invisible force force the air out of her chest, but she managed to maintain her footing. She moved quickly, reaching down to her belt and pulling her quarterstaff from its holster and swinging it towards the driver. He screamed as it struck him, and he vanished suddenly in a wave of flickering smoke. She grabbed hold of the reins and pulled back, but the horses ignored her urgings and plowed on. The driver flickered back into shape beside her, and she felt a cold hand plunge into her chest and clutch around inside her. Pain racked her entire body and her breathing grew shallow, but she maintained her hold on the reins and tugged sideways, pulling all her weight to the side and away from the ghostly driver. She tumbled free, the reins coming with her, and the horses reared violently. The carriage itself went tumbling sideways, and Memoria went sprawling onto the cold stone street. The horses screamed as they were pulled to the ground as well, one of them flickering and screeching loudly as it struck and passed through an iron street lamp on the way down. Memoria rolled, rising to her feet with her hand at her belt. The driver flickered into form again immediately in front of her, grinning madly as he advanced towards her, arms stretching out for her throat. "Last stop, bitch," she growled. The horses let out an almost human-sounding scream, and the driver turned his head to look at them just as they were engulfed in flame, raining down on them from the damaged gas lamp above them. The Driver gave an unworldly screech, turning back to her in rage. But as the flames spread to the carriage itself, he doubled over as if in pain. Memoria moved fast, dashing past his writing, flickering figure towards the carriage. She raised her quarterstaff again, this time bringing it crashing down onto the base of the lamppost. It shattered under her assault, and she leapt aside as the fuel ignited and set the carriage fully ablaze. Its driver shook violently, screaming, before he himself seemed to vanish in a blaze of searing flame. The horses shuddered bodily one last time before vanishing themselves. The carriage remained, burning loudly as the lacquered wood smoldered and the iron framework twisted as if in pain. With a final glance at the spot in which the driver's ghost had vanished, Memoria turned her collar up against the wind and disappeared into the shadows.

Excellent. Thank you both. I'll have the opening post up sometime tomorrow afternoon/evening.

Well there's your problem. Sadly it's not an easily correctable one.

So what's going on here, guys? Still waiting on both of you to complete your character sheets... two weeks later...

From Ashes and Leviathan were the two that piqued my interest on the wiki, yeah. Maybe I'll be able to catch them in a Steam Sale of some kind in the next few weeks.

Actually, I like Pod Race better. There's apparently a podcast downloader/manager called Podracer, but I don't see a podcast named such.

I've been making my way through the Trilogy edition for a few weeks now. Just finished ME2 (fantastic game, btw) and I plan to start 3 tomorrow afternoon. The Trilogy version includes an online pass and the Extended Cut. Am I missing out on anything tremendous or game altering without any of the actual DLCs? I'm a bit strapped for cash these days, but could probably afford maybe two of them if I needed to. Keeping in mind that I'm more worried about story than extra guns or armours.

To be entirely honest none of the given options really do it for me apart from Force Choke for more serious/opinion segments. But with no better suggestions to offer, my vote goes to Escape Pod as well - as Sith Holocron said, it alludes to a podcast with just a name.

The attire looks alright to me. I'm not too worried about "historical accuracy" in a parallel world story. At least not where fashion is concerned. So long as you don't put him in a polyster no-iron slacks, a tye-dyed cotton t-shirt, or similar then you're pretty much clear to use your own judgement. Re: your equipment. I'll just point out that firearms in this world would be incredibly difficult for the average person - hunter or otherwise - to come by. Ammunition even more so. You certainly don't have to get rid of either anything, but I would suggest building a reason for his having them into his backstory somehow - maybe they were his father's, or he's fought in the war at some point, or something to that effect. Because people are going to notice a civilian with a firearm. Also keep in mind that ammunition in a Britain ravaged by a century long war that it seems to be loosing would leave proper ammunition - along with many other things - incredibly scarce. Nights must be long indeed in your neck of the woods.

If you can't catch it on Thanksgiving then I'm sure you could find it online somewhere. I can help with that if need be. All in all, I found the episode equal parts enjoyable and contrived. I don't know if there are scenes on the cutting room floor that would help, or if it was just the writing, but David Tennant's appearance felt incredibly forced and wholly unnecessary. Don't get me wrong, I'm a huge fan of Tennant and his Doctor definitely has his bright spots. On the whole though, I felt he simply served to introduce a non-threat alien menace that in turn only served to provide context for a future plot point. The entire Zygon "threat" was a joke - though I will say that it's better to have introduced a non-threat through something like the Zygons rather than shoehorning the Daleks or the Master in there. Rnd recreating the "goes ding when there's stuff" scene, while mildly amusing, rubbed me the wrong way. Most of the 1852 stuff did. I also could have done without Osgood, whose only purpose was to wear the Fourth Doctor's scarf and give fans something to notice in the trailers and previews. She served literally no other purpose, and was entirely unnecessary. All that being said, Tom Baker's cameo was absolutely brilliant, and I'll never say no to references to and/or pictures of the Brigadier. Just wouldn't have been the 50th without him in there somehow. And the string of clips from Classic Doctors, all helping to save Gallifrey, was fantastic.

So... Writer, Archon, are you guys still working on character sheets, or what?

Alright guys, here comes a bit of a long post. Bear in mind that this is an incredibly basic overview of the ninety-odd years leading up to where we are now. It is not going to be very detailed, and you will notice some things that won't make a whole lot of sense. That's because this is a parallel reality that diverges from our own much farther back in time than where this post begins. Also keep in mind that this RP is not about the war. I'm writing this all out purely to give you a feel for the tone and feel of the world we'll be playing in. The early 1800s saw a great deal of tension between Great Britain and her neighbours. British naval expansion further into the North Sea was met with resistance from the growing Netherlands, while their choke-hold on the ever-contested French/English channel led to animosity from France. And while officially Britain's allies, Spanish patience began to wear thin as their struggling economy suffered further under constant occupation of the Bay of Biscay by the Royal Navy to ensure that Spanish naval power remained confined to the terms of greatly outdated treaties. Tensions reached a boiling point in May of 1831 when a British naval vessel fired on and sank a convoy of Dutch fishing vessels in the North Sea. The exact circumstances surrounding this incident are unclear - the British vessel involved, the OMS Westminster, was not under orders from the crown to enter the area, nor did she return to British waters following the incident. She was found adrift several weeks later with the crew missing, save for her executive officer Charles Tucker. Tucker who was found hanging by his neck from the mast with his eyes burned from his skull. The rest of the crew was never recovered, and thus details of the incident are unknown. The survivors of the Dutch vessels, however, reported the attack to authorities upon arriving ashore. In retaliation, the Hague dispatched a portion of its own fleet to occupy the northern waters of the English Channel in Auguest, while France took action in the south shortly thereafter. In a surprise move, isolationist Germany lent military support to this alliance, claiming a desire to see Britain brought to heel after centuries of trampling across the interests of mainland Europe. In the mean time, Slavic military power had quietly but rapidly expanded as well; however, requesting Slavic support was deemed unnecessary. With the majority of Europe now arrayed against them, Britain attempted a swift and decisive strike at Dutch shores in the Spring of 1832 the hopes of not only gaining a foothold on the mainland but also demonstrating that they were much less concerned than they appeared. The ploy was unsuccessful - German forces retaliated remorselessly, and the first battles of what would become a decades-long war finally broke out. These were joined by French incursions on British soil, backed by a Spanish fleet that fought tooth and nail to keep the Royal Navy engaged in the Bay of Biscay and unable to head north to defend the crown. They were successful - while the King escaped the city unharmed, London itself was occupied by Mainland forces in 1835. Parliament was placed under French control while military rule was administered by the Germans. The Netherlands, meanwhile, took charge of the pursuit of the King himself who was believed to have fled northward. With London lost, the rest of the country fell under martial law. Meanwhile, the Slavic Union determined that now was the time to express its own interests. In a bold move, Slavic forces betrayed German trust and crossed the border easily in early 1836, occupying Berlin with little resistance. The response across Europe was chaotic. German allies attempted to lend aid where possible without prematurely ending what had so far been a very successful war in Britain, but it was insufficient. Now an annexed Slavic state, the command structure of her military was dismantled and their forces integrated into Slavic structures. Many German troops fled to France or the Netherlands, swelling military numbers there; most, however, were forced by the now very real threat to their families to fight for Slavic commanders arriving on English shores by the end of the year. Now facing the joint military might of two of Europe's most powerful nations, on two fronts, the French/Dutch alliance was forced to call a truce with Britain in the face of the greater Slavic/German threat. The Royal Navy was freed from Iberian waters and allowed through the French/English channel, where an attempt was made to force the Slavic-ruled German forces from London. While technically successful, the victory was a pyrrhic one - London was all but destroyed in the process, reduced to a pile of smoldering rubble and charred stone. Military losses on both sides were devastating, but the civilian casualties were incalculable. While the land was reclaimed, the city itself was converted to military barracks and training grounds, while the governing military council remained in Liverpool with the King. By 1842 the King had officially named Liverpool the nation's new capital. In the decades that have followed, the intensity of the war has waxed and waned. While their military might is greatly superior, the Slavic/German "alliance" is fraught with discord between the German people and their Slavic overlords. The German resistance has succeeded in a handful of key operations in both Germany as well as the Slavic Republic itself that have enabled the Allies to win a handful of decisive victories that would have otherwise meant significant steps towards a Slavic victory in Europe. There have been horrible losses as well, however, including the absorption of the Netherlands in to the Union; the betrayal of Italy, who joined the Union war effort in 1866 after decades of refusing to become involved; and the military assassination of Queen Alexandria Victoria in 1887. The year we'll be playing in is 1924. The current monarch is King George V, son of the assassinated Victoria. Having raged for so long, the war has reached a point where both sides are financially and militarily exhausted, leaving the conflict itself at a standstill of sorts - very little actual combat is currently taking place, though there is still no lasting peace in sight. Britain is all but a martial state now, Parliament having temporarily surrendered much of its authority to the Crown Admiralty Board in the last forty years. However, the military does not have the numbers to properly police much of the nation, which has led to a marked rise in crime. This coupled with a century of war rationing has led to a severely diminished quality of life for the population at large.

I like it, both on my desktop and on my phone. It feels very natural and organic - you can see where everything is, and get where you want to go easily. Definitely an improvement. Question though: when commenting on an article, will the registration there be entirely separate from the forums, or will a forum account be usable as well?

While we wait ever-so-patiently for Writer to post his character, I thought I'd share a little bit more about the nature of the world we'll be playing in. Bear with me, as this information will come in bursts over the next few days while I write out and expand on how this parallel Earth looks and feels.

I can't say I've disliked any of the new Doctors, myself. I do have the controversial opinion of liking Tennant the least, though, if I'm forced to rank them - he just felt too human for my liking. I've seen Capaldi in very little - really only Whoniverse roles - but I've liked him every time. I'm pretty excited to see what he'll do with the role, even if it means Smith is moving on. I'm excited for the docudrama as well! I think the casting is sublime - though I am a little uncertain on the writing. Mark Gatiss has penned some of the worst Doctor Who stories since the revival, but his work on Sherlock has absolutely blown my away at every turn. But I'm looking forward to it all the same. McGann definitely suffered from lousy writing in '96, but I've always thought he did very well with what he was given. I was thrilled to see him, especially on the back of his vehement denial that he was involved in the anniversary in any way. Always hoped he was lying, and I'm glad he was. It's being simulcast around the world, and will be the second largest international simulcast in history behind the FIFA World Cup. If the trailers are any indication it looks as if he won't be entirely alone in doing so - we see Ten and Eleven interacting with what some are guessing is "the Moment" along with War; and we hear Rose talking about it as well. Speaking of which, does anyone else just not buy that Billie Piper is actually playing Rose Tyler as we've known her? She looks more like a companion to Hurt's incarnation than to Tennant's. At least to me.

We're nine days away now from the Doctor Who 50th Anniversary special, and I know there are other Doctor Who fans around here who'll appreciate this as much as I do - a prequel "minisode" entitled The Night of the Doctor, written by Steven Moffat. (This BBCode requires its accompanying plugin to work properly.) Anyone else as antsy for this special as I am?

We're a bit thin on characters here, even with Writer working on one as well. So I'm going to create another one myself. Name: Darren Coal. Gender: Male Age: 73 years old. Description: [image] Height: ~1.78m/5'10". Weight: ~92kgs/~203lbs. Hair: Mostly bald; remaining hair is steely grey. Eyes: Dark grey. Weapon(s): Prefers a crossbow, but also maintains a collection of blades as well as a rather extensive set of both chemical and alchemical stores. Apparel: Dark, thick cotton slacks, a simple tunic (usually green or brown) and a heavily battered brown leather jacket with heavy steel boots. He carries a large duffel bag across his back where he keeps whatever weapons aren't currently necessary. This usually stays behind in whatever shelter he's secured for a particular hunt, but of course travels with him when he's on the road. History/Biography: Coal has been a traveling professional hunter for over fifty years. His wanderings have taken him from his hometown in West Yorkshire, across the English Channel to the shores of war-torn France, down the Italian peninsula and across the Mediterranean, all the way across the ice fields of Greater Russia and back again. His wide experience paired with his extensive knowledge of lore has made him something of a legend in many hunting circles. He's equally famous, however, for his complete disregard for whatever human life may come between him and his targets. He's ruthless, bitter, stubborn, and highly reclusive, maintaining very few stable connections within the hunting community and even fewer beyond it.

That kind of thing could re-evolve over time as the community grows, but I definitely agree with Lynk on the idea that moving forward, the inside jokes and running gags of the existing community would need to be set aside to make such a podcast more accessible to the new folks we're attempting to draw in. It's a bit lame, trying to shoehorn yourself into a clearly established community when they do that sort of thing - makes you feel like you've missed something.

Thanks guys.