Post by The Master on Jul 28, 2011 21:39:40 GMT -5
The Mountains of Solace and Solitude, Gallifrey
There was shouting and cheering as the small band of rag-wrapped men returned to the camp. One was wounded, orangish blood seeping between fingers that pressed tight over his stomach. Two more strutted and preened, soaking in the attention. The fourth, the target of most of the adulation, carried a white-trimmed Chancillary Guard helmet in each hand.
"It worked, Vorm," the fourth announced, throwing the helmets before a figure wearing tattered robes, squatting on a large rock.
Vorm grinned a wicked grin. "The Guardsmen did not see you, Chastel?"
Chastel returned the grin. "No. Not until it was too late."
"Then they work."
"Yes."
Vorm stood. Throwing his arms wide, he addressed the gathered crowd. "Then it will begin," he said, slowly. "For too long, we have been the outcasts of the Shining City."
Angry jeers.
"For too long, we have been dismissed as worthless, as beasts, as animals to driven out."
Catcalls.
"But now? Now we will rise! We will claim our rightful place!"
Cheers.
"NOW! The Shobogons will be outcasts NO MORE!"
Wild screams and cheers of joy.
From a hut outside the firelight, two men watched the Shobogons work themselves into a frenzy. One was tall, with dark hair slicked back, wearing a leather jacket and biker's boots. The other was average height with snow-white hair, dressed in the suit and waistcoat of a Victorian gentleman. They looked to have nothing in common, and yet there was a certain uncanny resemblance between them.
"It worked," the biker observed.
"Of course it worked," the Victorian responded. "I expected no less."
"I had rather anticipated... difficulties with the Shobogans."f
"I didn't. Another century, and they'll be ready to sell us out to the Daleks. We're just harnessing that rage early, and for our own ends."
The unlikely-looking pair folded their arms over their chests at the same time, and watched.
"Destruction, then, to the High Council," snarled the biker.
"And let the universe tremble."
The Doom of the Gods, Part One:
Revolution
There was shouting and cheering as the small band of rag-wrapped men returned to the camp. One was wounded, orangish blood seeping between fingers that pressed tight over his stomach. Two more strutted and preened, soaking in the attention. The fourth, the target of most of the adulation, carried a white-trimmed Chancillary Guard helmet in each hand.
"It worked, Vorm," the fourth announced, throwing the helmets before a figure wearing tattered robes, squatting on a large rock.
Vorm grinned a wicked grin. "The Guardsmen did not see you, Chastel?"
Chastel returned the grin. "No. Not until it was too late."
"Then they work."
"Yes."
Vorm stood. Throwing his arms wide, he addressed the gathered crowd. "Then it will begin," he said, slowly. "For too long, we have been the outcasts of the Shining City."
Angry jeers.
"For too long, we have been dismissed as worthless, as beasts, as animals to driven out."
Catcalls.
"But now? Now we will rise! We will claim our rightful place!"
Cheers.
"NOW! The Shobogons will be outcasts NO MORE!"
Wild screams and cheers of joy.
From a hut outside the firelight, two men watched the Shobogons work themselves into a frenzy. One was tall, with dark hair slicked back, wearing a leather jacket and biker's boots. The other was average height with snow-white hair, dressed in the suit and waistcoat of a Victorian gentleman. They looked to have nothing in common, and yet there was a certain uncanny resemblance between them.
"It worked," the biker observed.
"Of course it worked," the Victorian responded. "I expected no less."
"I had rather anticipated... difficulties with the Shobogans."f
"I didn't. Another century, and they'll be ready to sell us out to the Daleks. We're just harnessing that rage early, and for our own ends."
The unlikely-looking pair folded their arms over their chests at the same time, and watched.
"Destruction, then, to the High Council," snarled the biker.
"And let the universe tremble."
The Doom of the Gods, Part One:
Revolution
