closed

[quitting,,]

xx

[quitting,,]

yikes ignore this haha

[quitted;]

Macelyn Quayzy

"You're not alone, you hear me? You are not alone. I'd sooner die than let you be alone.



Descritption:
Macelyn is a 22 year old girl, about 5'12 in height. With short dirty blonde hair, deep dark hazel eyes, and striking
dark eyebrows, she can be slightly intimidating when she tries. A wide-shouldered yet nimble build is a plus for
her in martial arts. Although a formidable opponent in taekwondo, Macelyn is one of the most sensitive people
you'll meet, with an unusually low tolerance for physical pain.

Personality:(WIP)
While fierce when provoked, Macelyn is a truly kind, perceiving person. She a has a tendency to keep quiet with
her opinions and thoughts, for she feels her unusually high intelligence may drive away new people she meets.
With a love for science, history, and the performing arts, Macelyn dreams of traveling to quench her restless
heart.

History: (WIP)
Macelyn Quayzy is a young American, with childhood memories from all over the country,
including Connecticut, San Francisco, and her least favorite, Kentucky. After moving out of
the home of her loving family, father Rueben Quayzy, mother Karen Quayzy and little brother
Zane Quayzy, Macelyn's life was that of a typical college student's. She worked hard, she lived
on frozen pizza. Her major was film, or as her professor called it, 'the art of unemployment'.
At last, leaving college with her piece of paper known as a degree, Macelyn hugged her family
goodbye and took to the air for London, England, in pursuit of a job. In pursuit of anything, really.
Something to get her life going. If only she knew.......

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Character belongs to me, thefartheststar.

[quitting,,]

xx

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"No! No, no, no!" Sparks whizzed past the man's skin as he franticly struggled to regain control of his ship. "C'mon, stay with me!"
he shouted desperately, seemingly to the ship itself. With a final fizz and bang, the ship retained balance. "Ah! See? You have to trust me." The man murmured, rubbing the hilt of the circular control center. The machine wheezed and gurgled in response. "How about a refuel stop, yeah? Nah? I think we can make it. Off we go, molto bene!" Swinging a small screen around the central column, the man paused, dark eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What do we have here..." A tone of curiosity in his Scottish lilt. Pressing several odd-looking buttons, the man took another good long look at the screen. "A signal!" He proclaimed excitedly. "And perhaps... a message? Only one way to be sure." Reaching into an inner pocket of his pin-striped suit, he took out a small black leather wallet, opening it to reveal nothing but a blank piece of paper. But... yes, there it was! A letter 'H', etching itself slowly but surely in an inky pine green. The man watched intently, patiently. 'E'...'L'...'P'. Help. Wait, here comes more; a capital, curving 'A'. And finally, four more of those pine green letters floated to the white paper surface, quicker than before. M-B-E-R. Amber. The man's swirly brown eyes widened. "Amber..." He breathed. Throwing the wallet aside, he leapt into action, fingers flying over every rotatable switch within arm length. "The signal came from Earth... London? Oh, Amber... What have you gotten yourself into?" Yanking down on one final lever, the central column began to pump up and down, followed by a wheezing and bubbling sound from deep within. The ship rocked, back and forth, creaking and twisting... then coming to a complete standstill. Pulling on his long trench coat, the man rushed down the catwalk steps and out the blue, wooden double doors. They slam shut behind him, and the ship is quiet once more. If you look just behind a rusty folded chair, you'll see a wallet lying open on the floor... with more words, fading as soon as they came. 'Doctor, come. Come. They took my memory. Save them. The people. Find the-' Before revealing what could have saved 10 or more lives, the words' rich green tone diluted, and became waves of energy, floating through space once more. The search has begun.

[quitting,,]

xx

[quitted;]

"Amber!" The man we can now call the Doctor called out, his voice echoing down an empty hall. He cautiously took in his odd surroundings, weary of what might be lurking behind corridors unseen. He assumed he had landed in some sort of ship, judging from the seemingly reinforced walls, and basic layout. No being revealed themselves to confront him. "Amber..." he said, more quietly now. "Ssss... Doctor...." Choked a serpentine, strangled voice from behind him. The Doctor whirled, coming face-to-face with a creature he had believed to be long-gone. With a horribly hunched spine, sickly gray skin, contorted black horns, and vicious maroon-red slits for eyes, the Veramehk was a truly terrible sight to behold. "What have you done with her?" The Doctor growled threateningly, skipping all formalities. "She is contained." Came the answer, barely audible. The creature, cloaked in a tattered black robe, bared it's stark white fangs, as if to say, 'and what are you going to do about it?' Sweat beading on his forehead, eyes flaming, the Doctor took a deep breath. "You can mess with me, creature of darkness. You can meddle all you want. But meddle with her, and this escalates to a whole separate level." He seethed, voice dripping in a dangerously low tone. "You want her back? Fine. Have her you shall, on one simple condition." The Veramehk purred. "Find what our masters desire, and your precious child will survive." The Doctor remained quiet, listening. "Find the orb, Time Lord. Find it, and we will consent to your pet's release." The snake-like creature implored. "The orb? What orb? Who are you masters?" The Doctor questioned, voice rising. "The Orb of Scarro." The creature hissed. "The Orb of Scarro? Ha! Fat chance! You and I both know that object of power is long gone, along with it's patrons. What use would this wisp of legend be to you?" The Doctor mocked coldly. "Find it. The girl will be accommodated as we await your return. Do not fail." With that, the slimy fiend flicked it's pink tongue, it's eyes glowing a darker shade of maroon, and the Doctor's vision blurred into blackness.

[quitting,,]

xx

[quitted;]

"Arhghh..." The Doctor moaned softly, clutching his bruised head. Painstakingly turning onto his back, he opened his eyes to hazy evening light. "Wha-? Amber?" He mumbled groggily. Propping himself up into a sitting position, his hands scraped against sharp gravel. After pulling his foggy mind together, the Doctor concluded that the wretched Veramehk had evidently teleported him to the Earth, face-down in an alley to be exact. Hauling his legs upright, the Doctor stood, rubbing his aching back. "Now I'm really getting old." He muttered morosely. Getting in a final stretch, he stumbled forward, onto a grey sidewalk bustling with people. Taking a big breath in through his nose, he nods, sure of himself. "London. Year 2015-ish. Wait... Almost 2016. Hard to be sure, too many bodies rushing around." He decided. Shaking his head to rid his mind of the last bits of fog, the Doctor set off at a brisk pace down the concrete sidewalk. "Amber, Amber, Amber. Get to Amber. With the Orb, if necessary..." He muttered, earning a few odd looks from keen-eared passer-by. "Scarro. What fight do the sniveling Veramehks have to pick with Scarro?" He wondered to himself. "Undercover. That's what I have to do. Lay low, find the Orb, get Amber. No distractions." Eyes hardening with his decision, the Doctor turned a corner, coat whipping behind him, and delved into the busy streets of London.


Macelyn nervously fingered the orange-red pendant around her neck. London was a big place... so many bodies, cramped into one street at a time. Anything could happen. Her nerves rose into angst. Suddenly, the pendant on her neck flamed white-hot, causing Macelyn to cry out and snap the thin chain from her neck. Several people turned in their seats to stare, and Macelyn slid down in her seat. As she was tucking the necklace into her carry-on bag to be examined later, a voice came crackling over the intercom. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We are beginning our descent into London Heathrow Airport, so please buckle up, and thank you for riding Delta Airlines." Macelyn heaved a sigh of relief. Everything was going to be alright... Then why were her instincts telling her to run?


To Be Continued

[quitted;]

Ding! Went the speakers, signaling the aircraft's proper landing. Over fifty voices began talking all at once, people pushing to open baggage compartments. Macelyn sat patiently, waiting for the narrow aisle to clear. After a solid five minutes of waiting for an elderly woman to make her way out of the neighboring seat, Macelyn's thread of patience had run out. Standing up, slinging her small duffel bag over one shoulder, she squeezed past the old woman, muttering "sorry ma'am, s'cuse me." Hurrying out the exit hatch and up the enclosed ramp, Macelyn was in London at last. Spotting a mini-café just outside the gate, she made a beeline for the register, silently praising the Lord for actual, fresh, sandwiches.

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The Doctor's stomach rumbled... perhaps there was a restaurant close by that didn't mind dusty, suspicious-looking customers. He could figure out where to go from there.


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"I'll have a roast beef and cheese on wheat, please." Macelyn gave her order politely. "Yeah, sure. You want a cuppa' to go, with that? We're givin' em' free today, see." The cashier asked, his gruff British accent momentarily startling her. "Oh, um... yeah, I suppose. Do you have mint?" Macelyn asked, shyly. "Sure thing." Dissapearing into the back for a few minutes, the cashier returned with a wrapped sandwich and a foam cup, containing steaming mint tea. Paying in cash, Macelyn smiled, thanked the cashier, and headed off for the luggage pick-up.

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Thunking down in a threadbare booth, the Doctor tapped his fingers inpatiently on the hard table surface. How long is a simple order of chips going to take? He ran a hand through his thick brown hair, causing it to stick in every direction. The Orb of Scarro's possible whereabouts kept running through his mind. So many legends and myths surrounded the Orb, tales of it's unsurpassable power to twist a sane being's mind. Created by Davros himself, the Orb was crafted in secret, away from prying eyes. Davros had planned to use it as a safety net, a refuge to be released if ever the time came, that only himself or a Dalek could enter unharmed. But, like many objects of power before it, the Orb was lost, thought to have been stolen in the Last Great Time War. The Doctor too had believed it to be gone. But, the Veramehks had clearly devised some sort of new, if different theory. Trying to find the Orb is nothing short of crazy... but Amber's life is on the line. Crazy will have to do for now.

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To Be Continued