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[twigytimelord]

Player Info

Name: Lae
Age: Over 30
Contact: PM to excessivehubris or e-mail to Laekhund @ Gmail dot Com
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Reserve: Right Here

Character Basics:

Character Name: The Doctor (10th Regeneration)
Journal: twigytimelord
Age: 903...ish
Fandom: Doctor Who
Canon Point: End of Episode 15 Series 4 "The Next Doctor"
Debt:

Class A: Total A 16,010,598 Years (Genocide, Treason, Betrayal)
Class B: Total of Class B 848,518 Years (Breaking and Entering, Kidnapping, Fraud, Theft)
Class C: Total of Class C 4 Years (Abandonment/Neglect)
GRAND TOTAL: Grand Total = 16,859,116 Years

Canon Character Section:

History: Have a Wiki though for continuity purposes I will be sticking to the televised events for his memories/personality.

Personality:

Running.

One of the key, defining personality traits for the 10th regeneration of the Doctor is the idea of running. From his lean, runners build to the way he pairs Converse running sneakers with his suits, this regeneration is almost constantly in motion. Sometimes it's towards something or someone but for the most part its running away.

The Doctor's 9th regeneration was fresh from the horrors of the Time War; still in shock you could say at the enormity of his losses both personal and on a level that no human mind could comprehend. He was still burning with anger and grief, a weapon still drawn and cocked against a threat that he could not completely believe was gone. By his 10th regeneration, the focus of his Time War self has faded and The Doctor is coming to realize that he is the sole survivor of two species, now gone forever.

He is alone. No longer merely the radical out on a lark with a stolen TARDIS, he is completely alone and no matter which way he turns, the breadth and scope of his actions keep chasing him down. The reality that the Daleks, in their original numbers, are no more that the Time Lords are completely gone and he is both the progenitor of that destruction as well as the only one left. That no matter where The Doctor runs too, he has irrevocably changed the face of the Universe and Time.

There is no where he can run too, where the grief of his actions cannot find him but this doesn't stop Ten from trying.

His anger and fury burned off in the regeneration from Nine, Ten projects a gregarious and out going persona, a persona that at some level he does want to genuinely be that happy, friendly man. Perhaps you might say that he wants to go back to being the open, positive, idealist he was when he was younger; when he was more innocent, before the Time War.

Now, though he seeks to befriend everyone, this is done while also carefully holding people at bay. Rose was sort of grandfathered in behind the walls Ten constructs, by her relationship with Nine. Rose was desperately important to Nine, drawing Nine back from the edge of burning up from his own rage, Rose knew what lay behind the brilliant smiles and over energetic mien of Ten.

But Rose is gone. Lost to a place where even The Doctor, for all his cleverness, can not reach. Enter Martha Jones, who is brilliant and engaging in her own way. Martha who draws the Doctor along, moves him forward where Rose's loss may have left him sitting above Earth, moping in his TARDIS. Martha, who would like to be more to the Doctor, who develops a bit of a crush on him but who cannot reach past the facade he's put in place. This projection of a happy go lucky, silly man who is a bit obtuse, with a side of rudeness. Martha doesn't believe that is all there is too the Doctor but ultimately she does come to realize that she is not Rose, she is not a Time Lord and she will never get past his defenses in the way she'd like.

Still, Martha's presence in his life is important to the Doctor, though she is there to witness one of the first expressions of the instability of his control over his temper. Though Ten makes every effort to run and avoid a confrontation with The Family, once he is irrevocably cornered, he turns on them with a fury that has not been seen from the Doctor yet. Oh the Doctor threatened his retribution and usually those threats were enough but this time we actually seem him mete out his anger and it is devastating. Not just devastating but in some cases down right cruel, where he leaves members of The Family, trapped in torturous situations for the eternity of their existence.

Shades of the Time Lord Victorious. Shades of a man who is at heart a good man but one who has always run from consequence but who is now being forced to face his actions.

Also, while traveling with Martha, the Doctor will learn that he is not as alone as he imagined. That there is another Time Lord, one who survived the Time War but as the Doctor will learn, there is a reason he survived the Time War; it is the Master. The Master, trapped in a human form by the courts of Gallifrey, tossed to the end of Time itself, the other side of the coin to the Doctor.

Finding the Master is a bittersweet experience. The Master is arguably one of the Doctor's most bitter enemies but at one time they had been the closest friends and now they are the only two left. Despite what the Master does to him, what the Master does to the TARDIS, to the Earth and to humanity there is part of the Doctor who is almost elated at the idea that he will no longer be alone. Up to the moment where the Master is shot, dying in Ten's arms despite Ten's desperate pleas for him to regenerate, to not leave him alone.

Like salt in an open wound, hope is given to the Doctor and then ripped away from him, adding to his grief. It is another unfair blow from the Universe that the Doctor tries to swallow and bury within himself in order to project the air of being 'fine' as he keeps moving forward, keeps running away.

Martha proves to be the strong one in their relationship and where the Doctor runs (always running) and avoids the truth of his own inability to let someone in close again, Martha realizes she has to walk away or let him run them both into the ground.

So she leaves and once again he is alone but it is a self fulfilling prophecy, a case of the Doctor becoming his own worse enemy, letting his grief eat at him from within due to his insistence that he's 'fine' from without. He begins to display an instability in this regeneration, where he desperately projects this happy, go lucky, goofy overgrown child on a lark but inside the loneliness, anger and grief is building.

At first, there are minor explosions of the roiling internal conflict such as his actions against The Family but also when he runs into the Titanic; literally. Fresh from the loss of Martha the Doctor has an encounter with a starliner, ironically named the Titanic. It is Christmas Eve and the starliner is on a jaunt to show it's passengers the primitive planet of Earth in it's celebrations. The Doctor puts on his tux and attempts to distract himself from his own loneliness by joining the festivities but alas things go pear shaped as they often do around the Doctor.

Still he has the opportunity to meet Astrid, a beautiful waitress who has taken a menial job aboard the starliner because it allows her to travel among the stars. Astrid is a reminder for the Doctor of the beauty and wonder of traveling, not just the chance to run and escape. Though her death is hard on him, her brief presence in his life has an even greater impact, helping to balance the grief of death with the wonder of living.

The brief reprieve, begun with Astrid, continues in the form of Donna Noble who comes into the TARDIS next. She does not make the attempt to get close to the Doctor in a romantic manner, in fact she brings a sisterly wisdom into his life. She acknowledges his walls and barriers, does not let him fool her with their presence but at the same time she makes no effort to knock them down. She calls him on his facades but lets him maintain them, there is no running from Donna because she doesn't chase him and this starts the process of looking within. The efforts and even the desire to avoid what is within himself begins to ease and it looks as if the Doctor may be on the way to taking the first step towards actually healing.

But just as the process begins, it all comes tumbling down. Rose returns, the Daleks return, Caan and Davros as the consequences of the Doctor's actions all come crashing down on top of him. The makeshift family the Doctor has built in the years since the Time War is threatened and the Doctor is held captive, forced to face what he has been desperately running from. Forced to hear what he's not wanted to listen too, the way he's made people into weapons in an effort to absolve himself of guilt but how no matter what he does, how he runs physically or from within, he is guilty.

Events unfold to the Doctor's favor but the damage is done. Just as he gained his makeshift family and has one shinning moment with them all, the Doctor must lose every single one of them all over again. It is rather symbolic that he gives a part of himself to Rose, the part that the Doctor believes she can heal and make 'normal' in a way he has given up on. Then comes the loss of Donna. Not just a loss but almost a replay of the Time War itself, the Doctor taking on an almost Godlike mien in determining her fate above and beyond Donna's own wishes. He won't listen to what she is trying to tell him, to what she wants for her life but instead makes up his mind for her.

The infant steps of true healing are now threatened by the shadow of the rise of the Time Lord Victorious, though he's not there yet. Not like he will be in The Waters of Mars but the Doctor has decided to believe that he is meant to be alone, he's given up trying to recapture his idealistic innocence of the past. He's determined that's its easier to run from and to avoid reality; to instead, impress his interpretation of reality on time and the universe itself.

Powers/Abilities: The Doctor is a Time Lord, a humanoid alien race from the planet Gallifrey. Time Lords are designed to be able to survive in space and travelling through time. Some of their unique physical characteristics include, the presence of two hearts, as well as a lower body temperature than humans and the ability to bypass respiratory function that allows them to survive low oxygen levels that would kill a human.

Time Lords are also resistant to many of the poisons that would kill a human and they can survive on less sleep than a human needs as well.

Time Lords also have a degree of telepathy, though it is strongest with other Time Lords (which in canon there aren't that many) and requires physical contact when shared with a human or other species. This also allows him to pick up languages of other species (or even babies) with or without the aid of the TARDIS translators.

The Doctor's true strength is his mental brilliance. He has survived for a very long time against seemingly insurmountable obstacles through cleverness and a deep knowledge of the world(s) around him. The Sonic Screwdriver helps as well!

Appearance: A beanpole in Converse sneakers

CR AU

N/A


Samples:

Actionspam Sample:

[He's a lean man, tall and lanky with a form built for running; perhaps that's why he's paired Converse sneakers with a suit. Well, it's as good an explanation as any and likely the best anyone is going to get. Hands in his suit pockets, holding back the edges of his overcoat, he's walking through the temple, stopping now and again to study this bit of architecture or that piece of furniture.]

A chess game between Good and Evil, eh? I loved that part, the talk of guilt and redemption, one of the better spiels I've heard for unlawful kidnapping.

[Though his tone could almost be described as chipper, there is an edge in the way he drawls certain words, works them around his teeth as if he were biting them off. It might also come from the flash of something in brown eyes.]

Don't get me wrong, I can appreciate an adventure as well as the next species and I'm always one for a good game of chess, fact I'm well known for my chess skills on three, no four planets. [He pauses and reaches up to rub at the spot just behind his right ear, his expression shifting to something boyish and perhaps embarrassed.] Five, if you count Sylox 8 but might not be able to count that as I'm banned for a transgression that I still maintain was not my fault, when someone waves their antenna in that manner, it means ... yes well never mind what it means.

[He hurries away from the story with all the earmarks of someone who had been about to tell a silly tale, like you might share at the pub. But between one breath and the next, his contrite, school boy expression hardens into something much older, much more fierce and definitely not amused.]

My point is I prefer to choose my own adventures, not have them chosen for me. Someone has made a singular error in judgement if they believe keeping me here against my will was a wise decision.

Prose Sample:

Whoever had done this was either very smart, very well educated or very lucky. They'd separated him from his TARDIS and the Doctor was struggling to fight down the sense of despair that wanted to force it's way across his thoughts as he reached, fruitlessly for the sense of his TARDIS. The delicate hum of the vortex that was missing from the back of his mind; more noticeable in it's absence than it's presence.

Without the TARDIS, he was well and truly trapped where he stood. The Doctor was not afraid of these 'agents' or of this game between the forces of guilt and redemption. He'd been playing this chess game for centuries, from before the time any of these little godlings had been in the imaginations of the humans who had worshiped them.

This game, these 'favors' were a joke to a being like himself, little more than child's play, an after thought for him if it amused him to pay them any attention. Not that they deserved it, not given the rude way they'd gone about asking for his help because that's what this had to be, right? A request for aid, twisted into an arrogant display of perceived power by the agents in an attempt to save face, rather than simply ask.

He'd never turned away from any being, any species that had reached out to him with a request for help. He might have turned away in the end, when there proved to be nothing he could do, when the circumstances proved to be a fixed point in time (Pompeii) Donna begging him to save just a few. Donna reminding him of mercy, (And what mercy did the universe show her?) The angry thought came unbidden and tightened around the frustration he was experiencing at his current predicament, threatening to set alight the smoldering embers of wrathful vengeance he was finding it harder and harder control.

A breath and then another, the Doctor recited the Shadow Proclamation in his head, word for word until he felt control settle back over his hearts and mind.

The TARDIS had to be somewhere, there was no species in the Universe who was truly a threat to him or his TARDIS; he'd destroyed them all after all. She was merely out of reach for the moment, no doubt held hostage until he finished playing whatever silly games these godlings wanted to put him through. Reaching up to tap the breast pocket of his overcoat, the Doctor withdrew his sonic screwdriver and gave it a little flip in his hand.

Perhaps a little unexpected adventure was just the diversion he needed. He felt his features relax and a large, slightly manic grin split his lips wide as he tossed the screw driver a little higher. Why not a game or two after all? Could prove to be entertaining. There was obviously some sort of story to be had from this place, if the half rebuilt state of the temple was anything to go by and the Doctor did love a good story.

For now there was enough about this place to offer a proper distraction, plenty of places to run to and from the sound of things, threats to run from. Grinning, an expression that finally reached all the way up to old, tired eyes, the Doctor tucked the screwdriver back into his pocket and glanced around. Spying a door that looked like it might lead out of the temple, he rubbed his hands together.

"Hello! Let's see what we've got."

Setting his feet into motion with a step, then a skip and a couple jogging paces, he crossed the marble floor to the door, sweeping through it without hesitation or (Heaven forbid) a glance backwards.