karshtakavaar

"Fire!" Everyone in the console room of the Presidential War Ship braced themselves against the coming turbulence except for the President herself, as the room was rocked by forces that were too great for even that ship to counter-balance. She stood confidently to the front of the large room, intently studying the great screens that made up the entire forward wall to make up for the damage that the ship's own sensors had sustained; upright and perfectly poised as though the turbulence was nothing more than that of a boat on calm water, rather than a listing War Ship, being strafed by Enemy fire. "Commander, prepare the relativity missiles,"

The police Inspector had spent his entire life in the small village over the hill from the girl's school, of course, he had heard the stories that the old wives of the village whispered late at night, when the wind howled around the eaves and the kitchen fires burnt low. Most everyone had heard the old stories about the woods – of how it could steal away young girls, never to be seen again, and surely enough, there had been quite a few disappearances in his lifetime; quite a few during his employment in the local police force, but he regarded himself as a modern man of scientific thought, not to be frightened by ghost stories. In fact,

The ambulance doors closed with a solid thud, and the Master sat back. There he was; the Doctor, his new body young and strong and undamaged, with the signature physical eccentricities that his best enemy seemed to adore. So close; within arms' reach, the body that he needed in order to survive. He was in pain, Bruce's body was beginning to decay rapidly, the green residue that his morphant carrier had left in the tissue as it dissolved was beginning to show through cracks in the flesh – but that hardly mattered any longer. All he had to do was reach out and take what was his. The human woman who had unwittingly brought the Doctor t

Mojo is the only readily given name of a humanoid, possibly female being who has been held to frequent parties, soirees, shindigs and celebrations, both public and private for at least the last thousand years, whether invited or not. A kind of bogey-being for anyone considering hosting a party, the main concern is that there is no way of knowing whether or not the Mojo will actually appear, or if it is even real. While not much can be said for sure about this legendary figure – most attempts at direct information gathering are met with either "Sod off!" or a refusal to speak unless the questioner buys "One more drink," and which invari

"I don't believe it! I don't…" she muttered to herself, pushing another slide under the microscope's lens, "I don't understand…" Charlie watched silently as Dr. Holloway shifted between the three slides of alien blood, muttering to herself and making notations on her clipboard. Ten minutes passed this way, and then she stood back, one hand over her mouth, the other on her hip, a posture of surprise, "Why don't you have a look, Charlie," she said, gesturing to the apparatus, "Tell me what you see." With an inward sigh, he looked at the slide that was already in place, "This one looks... just like human blood," he frowned and adjus

"So what do we do now?" Martha asked; they were back in the Doctor's study to figure out what the next stage of their plans should be, after spending a tense twenty minutes at breakfast as Ms White glared at them. "We have to figure out the mechanism of the Lake," said Romana, she was standing by the window, looking out at the woods, "Figure out exactly how it lures its prey and how it captures them." "We also need to figure out where the energy it generates is going to," the Doctor was pacing quickly across the carpet before the now cold fireplace, Martha and Tom were on the sofa, watching him, while Lily sat quietly in one corner, just li