A Good Man goes to War [Open]

[The 11th Doctor]

The wander sat, hunched over in his TARDIS. Suddenly, the screen blared to life. The eleventh Doctor's face appeared on it.

The Wanderer sprang up. It was a Galactic recording, a message sent to thousands of beings across the universe.

"This is the Doctor, last living Time Lord of Gallifrey, and if you are hearing this, you owe me a debt. I am amassing an army. For what, you may ask? To attack Demon's Run, and defeat Madame Kovarian and the Clerics. You owe a debt, and I expect it repaid in full. Oh, and if you have a fez, bring it too. Fezzes are cool."

The message ended. The Wanderer looked down at his feet. "A call to arms...from the Doctor, of all people. Well, I don't know what debt I owe him, but he's the last of my kind, and I owe him that. TARDIS, redirecting coordinates. Goodbye, Paris, 4537, Hello, Demon's Run, 2011!!!"

[K-9]

K-9 was torn, Luke was in class and he would be there for some time. Therefore protecting him was not something that he would really need at the moment. Unless the entire school was blown to smithereens while he was gone Luke would be fine or as fine as he would ever be.

Just to be on the safe side the small robotic tin dog left a transceiver dot on the small desk in Luke’s room. With the dot in place K-9 would be able to check in once in a while and run a scan for possible threats to his charges safety.

He had heard the signal sent out by the Doctor, even though he was sure that it was not directed at him. After all, the Doctor had charged him with the protection and safety of Sarah Jane and her small family. But the signal seemed urgent and K-9 would always be there to lend a hand to his creator and master, The Doctor.

After gaining coordinates the little dog vanished in a flash of pale blue light that seemed to travel through the ceiling and into the Earth’s atmosphere. He traveled past stars, planets, and even entire solar systems. When the trip ended he found himself aboard what appeared to be a space station.

He found himself an inconspicuous place to lay low, letting his scanners evaluate the situation around him and linking into the stations telecommunication systems, weaponry systems, and defenses.

[The 11th Doctor]

Demons run when a good man goes to war. Night will fall and drown the sun, when a good man goes to war. Friendship die and true love lies. Night will fall and the dark will rise, when a good man goes to war. Demon's Run, but count the cost: The battle's won, but the child is lost.

-

The Wanderer's landed on Demon's Run, and he exited, his longcoat flapping. He quickly, deftly, rushed back in and turned the TARDIS invisible. god help us all if they found it...

As he turned the TARDIS invisible, he noted something. Something he'd only seen once before, on a destroyed, doomed world called Gallifrey...K-9.

[K-9]

K-9’s sensor readings went on alert as a TARDIS landed not far from him. He knew what it was instantly, but he also knew that it did not belong to him master. There was something wrong with this. The Doctor was the only Time Lord left and the TARDIS was also the last of her kind. But this… the data did not compute.

K-9 did several scans and even linked in and talked to the TARDIS’s onboard… for lack of a better word central computer system. He did not recognize the man who exited the TARDIS but one thing was certain, K-9 was on his guard. The lights on his back panel flashed and blinked wildly.

“You are not The Doctor!” He stated in his mechanical voice.

[The 11th Doctor]

The Wanderer stopped before K-9.
"Of course I'm not the doctor,
I'm the Wanderer, and I'm one of the last of the time Lords. I survived
Gallifrey. I'm here to help the Doctor.

[K-9]

If K-9 could have felt emotion then that emotion would have been unhappiness and confusion, with just a dash of perplexity. The information that he was being told to process made no sense.

“All Time Lords of Gallifreyan origins have been time locked. Except The Doctor and The Master, your survival is highly improbable.” K-9 explained, his dish-like ears swiveling around almost impatiently.

If he could have reached back into his memory and found an answer to this he would have. But even he was not invincible to memory data corruption. Being completely blown up can have that effect of a tin dog.

[The 11th Doctor]

The Wanderer nodded. "I was exiled. I survived."

[The Fifth Doctor]

((Mind if I butt in?))
Beep beep.
Beep beep.
Beep beep.
Beep bee- what is that? Never even heard that one before.
Beep B- OK, OK, calm down.

The General slowly got up from his chair, a nice red thing it was, comfy, fulfilling his needs for comfort, he put his book on the little mahogany table which stood next to the chair. It was The Time Machine by H.G Wells, first edition of course, he'd found it randomly on the streets of London in 1897, it was just lying there, its cover caked with mud.
Why he had found himself in London in 1897 was a whole story in itself, a story for another time.
Another time.

He emerged into his console room, the greenish-blue light bathing his body, the beeping was coming from the console, over near that thingummy, what was it? Ahh it didn't matter, what did, was that small red light, taken from a 26th century hoverboard, and then he knew what it was.
A message.
But who knew his number?
There would be only one person.

He pressed the small green button next to the blinking light, and the large monitor, hanging near the door of his, currently disguised large boulder of a TARDIS.

you owe me a debt.
Yes I do Doc, yes I do.

At the mention of the Clerics and Madame Kovarian, his face turned into a nasty snarl. He swore.
By the Vortex itself, i'll destroy them.

[The First Doctor]

State Highway 160, Arizona. 1994.

The diner's door chimed, and a man in a grey suit walked in. He was handsome, with auburn hair and brown eyes and a black cane that seemed far more prop than walking aid. The waitress behind the bar blinked in surprise.

"I didn't notice a car pull up," she said.

The man took a seat at a barstool. "Really?" He picked up a menu. "Do you have the time?"

She checked her watch. "One oh three."

He smiled. "Excellent. Twenty-two minutes to spare. What would you recommend?"

"The special," she said automatically. "Time to spare for what?"

"Time to ensure that, in about sixty years, your civilization is not obliterated by first contact with the Ice Warriors." He paused. "What is the special?"

His words rattled her, but the mundanity of the question allowed her to rally. "Bacon cheeseburger, with a fried egg, and waffles instead of a bun. Comes with fries. And what's an Ice Warrior?"

"Homemade, or...?"

"Homemade."

The man in the suit tapped the corner of the menu against his septum, then smiled. "I'll have that. Burger rare, bacon just barely crispy. And a pot of coffee."

"A pot?"

"Yes. I can guarantee you that I will terribly abuse your policy of free refills on coffee. A pot will save you significant time in refills. And feel free to charge me extra."

She called the order back, produced a mug, and poured the man a cup of coffee. He drank it down at one go, black and without waiting for it to cool, and gestured for a refill. She poured again, and sat the pot on the counter. "What's an Ice Warrior?" she repeated.

"A reptilian species. The dominant life form of Mars."

She laughed, nervously. "Little green men?"

The man sipped at his coffee. "Green, yes. Little? No. They average about two meters in height, although their ruling caste is a little shorter."

The door chimed again and the waitress, glad for the distraction, looked up. Two more men had entered, one boyish-looking in suit and bowtie, the other tall and gangly in a skirt and sandals. They took seats on either side of the man in the grey suit.

"Ah," he said after a sip at his coffee. "Doctor. Rory. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

[The Master]

London. 2011.

He sat on a park bench, arms outstretched, enjoying the day. He wore a dark suit, with short hair and a broad smile that revealed teeth shockingly white against his dark skin.

He'd gone by a few different names, in his short current tenure on this world. Harold Saxon. Jake. Koschei Mwinyi.

But right now, names didn't matter. He was enjoying life. The cool breeze. The warmth of the metal. The double rhythm of his heartbeats.

He hadn't expected to hear that again, not trapped in a pathetic human husk. But ever since that brief moment, just a few months ago, when all the world had changed and Gallifrey itself had seemed to hang in the evening sky...

Well, ever since then, he'd had his double heartbeat back. And proper blood. And useful senses. And, he suspected, a full cycle of regenerations ahead of him.

Something whirred and beeped near his head. Annoyed, he opened his eyes, then blinked in surprise.

A communication cube.

"Really?" he said to nobody in particular. "Who, out of the few of us that remain, would send me a message?"

He grasped the cube, and spoke a word in a now-extinct language. It began to play.

"This is the Doctor, last living Time Lord of Gallifrey, and if you are hearing this, you owe me a debt. I am amassing an army. For what, you may ask? To attack Demon's Run, and defeat Madame Kovarian and the Clerics. You owe a debt, and I expect it repaid in full. Oh, and if you have a fez, bring it too. Fezzes are cool."

He laughed, a deep and hearty laugh. "Oh, Doctor. You fool. You arrogant fool. You believe that I owe you?"

With a flick of the wrist he deactivated the cube. There were valuable components in it, components he could salvage. Components he could use to build a signal beacon, to call his TARDIS back from the Silver Devastation. Components he could use to escape this dreary mudspeck of a world, and to rise to glory once more.

The familiar rhythms began to rise once more.

thump-thump-thump-THUMP

thump-thump-thump-THUMP

thump-thump-thump-THUMP

The sound of drums.

[K-9]

The supposed Time Lord stated that he had been an exile. To K-9’s mind being an exile was not necessarily a good thing and he stood his guard. His microprocessor whirl and he brought up all the data at his disposal concerning the subject, but nothing that he found could explain this new development.

“Insufficient data,” K-9 stated with a flicker of his ears and flashing lights.

[The Fifth Doctor]

"Well, I could tell you what I said to all the others about you owing me a debt and we now we're going to war, or I could tell you that the Clerics and Madame Kovarian have captured this man's wife and we need all the people we can get to get her back," The Doctor said, sitting on the barstool next to the Meddler, Rory sat another barstool along.
Rory leaned towards the Doctor, and said to him quietly,
"Do I need to wear this? They're really starting to look at me strange, and it's kinda cold...you know."

"Yes, Rory, makes you more brave, didn't I already explain this?" The Doctor said back, he turned to the Meddler again, "so what do ya think, you can meddle all you like, with the enemy of course, not with...so can you help us?"

[The 11th Doctor]

The Wanderer grinned. "Incufficient data? i am the Wander. I have fought Daleks and Cybermen. i stopped the Ra'lomian civil War. I survived the time War, because i was in exile for interfering with the affairs of other beings, as was the Doctor, whom I am here to help. I am The Wanderer, and there is no other like me, save the Doctor, for I am the Last of the time Lords!"

[The professor]

The professor parked his tardis next to the wanderers. He owed the doctor, for helping him against the weeping angels once. He stepped out with two swords strapped to the back and said "You two here to help the Doctor? Well, me too. Time lord. The professor is my name. I survived because i fled. And if you don't believe me." He spoke ten words in high gallifreyan, a rare skill for a time lord.

[The 11th Doctor]

The Wanderer raised his eyebrow. "I-I heard rumors...I am The Wanderer. I am I Time Lord too."

He then spoke the same words in high Gallifreyan.