Trav gives Stan a snug. "I'm not sure of all the details. I think they're trapped in a pocket dimension, and inside of a vehicle. The time rate may also be passing at a different rate so time may be passing much more slowly for them. I'm sure that we'll receive a full debrief at UNIT London."

Smoke Alarm outlooked up at the picturespout, eyespying the beach. 'I eyespied a beach on Earth.' she said, referring to their adventure with the Silurians. 'So we're outgoing to a great pool? Does that mean we'll get to splash and splish and outgo for a swim?' she asked eagerly. 'We'll need lots of floaties.'

Trav steps outside. "They're stuck at the deep, deep bottom of the pool. We need to get them out. Or, something like that." She crosses her arms as the beautiful sun sets.

Sereth grunts as Traveller made her announcement.

"Does this mean I have to wear this... " words failed him at this point. A rare occasion for the diplomat. "For a bit longer still?"

"Not once we're in UNIT headquarters." Trav closes the door. "In fact, you shouldn't have to wear it at all. Should be about lunch time." Trav grins as she works the controls.

Trav trots back to the control console. Snap snap snap snap twist twist shift THUNK.

The time rotor starts, with the central column moving up and down for about 15 seconds.

When it stops, Trav trots to the door and pokes her head out. The TARDIS should have landed in the UNIT London commissary. Or some commisary, at lunch time, somewhere, sometime.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 04:58, Wed 13 May 2015.

OOC: Trav gathers up the plot threads. What direction we go with it is up to the other players and of course our amazing GM.

2015, HUMANIAN EPOCH, HUMAN PRE-INTERSTELLAR AGE, EARTH, DALLAS, TEXAS

After the party at the Rayburn residence, Trav sets herself to some work. She's in the TARDIS control room. Streams of data float past, as she pets a Scutter, and flops on a couch, sipping coffee. Information is safely contained in the separate secure systems, set up from junk but resembling the old architecture she used at Exigency.

First, she checks the old data from the lair of the mailman:



She forwards the details of their trip to the Evers, to pass along to the Chamber of Time Unwroght. Amongst all her new friends, they were the only real time travellers. They needed the warning about the Daleks. If that one made it, others could have. That also gets forwarded to both UNITS, and to Dorium Moldavar. The Time Agency never liked the Traveller, much less the Marshall, nor she them, she doesn't want to deal with them directly. In exchange for considerations, she'd be happy to let Dor Dor act as a go between.

She remarks to herself that she was never this thorough in her prior regenerations, before the Marshall. A piece of her was still in war management mode. The 1st and 2nd Travellers always had a Gallifrey to go home to (and, indeed, were occasionally forced to return), and always had the Doctor, the Corsair, and some other colleagues who would carry on if she failed. Here, she was alone.

Next, she collates all of the cryptic messages that have been left for her, inputting through the psychic interface her own memories.








She has to put this all together.

She remembers, saying in this very control room, to Sir Richard and Malakai and Morhedgereim and the rest of her old Rifts Earth crew, that perhaps out of all of the hundreds of powerful Shedraya time demons that they had encountered, that perhaps they were just simply dealing with one, all shattered into millions of alternate, non-causal timelines, like the Could Have Been King and his army of Meanwhiles and Neverwheres. This might be the case with the TAROT, too -



She thinks, fly, TARDIS angels. She's actually been consoled by real angels, on Rifts Earth. Perhaps this is why she was allowed to return home.

She was also gathering an army, she noted to herself. She rubbed her eyes.Why am I doing this. I don't want to do this. I want to inspire people to fight for themselves, I don't want to lead people again. I lead so many to their deaths. Another part of her answers to herself, Because you want families to be able to gather at holidays and for people to dream, that's why. And maybe go home again.

She gets up and rubs the head of a Scutter. Stop it. Home burned before my eyes. It's gone. Regardless, no one else is here to organize the defense. Before you became me you always did what had to be done. After you changed and stopped being me you still did and now still do what has to be done. This internal monologue is inefficient and pointless.

She tiredly climbs up the spiral staircase to the Orrery. The Sol System is in it's majestic glory. She leans on the rail, looking at the Earth below as the sun rises over the terminator.

She says to herself aloud, "What if the Doctor is actually alive? What the hell am I going to say to him?" "I am so happy to see you!" "Oh, Booobie, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" "If you dare do that again, I shall kill you, quite permanently." "You put the other parts of me through hell, chulo."

Trav shakes her head. She's at a loss.

TARDIS angels. She has a realization, but she needs to investigate it.

She starts to trot down the stairs again.

She taps out a quick email to Fortuna:



She also checks on goldlisted e-mail messages.

She needs to talk with her companions, and review. But it was time for a trip to the Chamber of Time Unwrought.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:12, Mon 19 Oct 2015.

OOC: Want to meet with Fortuna before you put your heads together with the other PCs, or after?

OOC: Whatever works best for you, oh mighty time Vortex.

OOC: Do it before. Because Sereth is going to tell you that he was on loan to deal with the Fists; not solve the problems of the universe.

OOC: I'm absolutely fine with this. A new thread maybe?

There's a cheerful ding! from the console.

Trav snorts as the message comes into her Ipad.

"The nerve of that girl. Making me come to her. I ought to take her over my knee. She won't have been the first time traveller I've spanked." Don't be a hypocrite. You've broken that rule often and happily. Shut up, you. She is right. You've always liked your dangerous sex and romance. NO I HAVE NOT.  My being into cowboys and mobsters was downright pedestrian compared to your tastes in comics.It isn't love if it isn't murder.I loved murder, especially bad guys.Yes, I see. Too bad I regenerated. That mudball would be my summer home if I hadn't regenerated. I'd have kicked the Splugorth off, shunted those Rifts closed, brought sanity to the planet, and made it liveable.But my Joshua and me wouldn't have been, because I'd be you, and he would have hated you. He'd have fought against you. Unless your heart changed. Like that last hour of regret with Morhedgreim. And then, silence.

As Trav hums to herself, twisting dials and working in vortex equations, she thinks to herself, Don't ever change, Louise. Very few people can get the Marshall to shut up. And my romantic heart comes from you, 2nd. *I* read those comics and all of Minmay albums are on my phone. Have no fear. When I find a CVE, we *are* going back.

Trav pings the rest of the team on their phones, to let them know what's up and ask them if they want to come with.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:49, Fri 23 Oct 2015.

It is business as usual in the hospital, lots of patients, but luckily nothing too extreme or unusual. The medical equipment is a step back compared to some of the stuff Stanley has been using recently, but on the other hand it is also nice to know exactly what you are dealing with. These are the machines, instruments and diseases he knows from his training. There is less guessing and improvising, but also more patients. Stanley is so busy that he has to wait until his break before he has the time to reply. He wonders why Fortuna wants to speak with Trav?

"Sure, I'll join you. Can't leave right now, so can you pick me up after my shift?"

Of course, the TARDIS is waiting outside for Stan, right after his shift. Trav is in a nice sundress and cowboy boots and her fedora. "Hey, baby." She snugs him and kisses him on the cheek. "Where are you taking me?"

Later...

Amanda Khabares stands looking around the console room, hands on her hips, and gives a sigh.  “I've missed it here,” she says.  She's wearing a snug blue uniform jumpsuit with matching bolero: the telltale UNIT rank and comm tabs are discreet enough that they might be an asymmetric pattern of jeweled pins setting off the bronze wings-and-star-cluster badge.  She gives Stanley a dazzling feline smile.

“Thank you for agreeing to help.  All the time I've spent with Marshal Ch'tesh, working to run down the delegates for the convention of the Parliament... well, it has certainly put my degree on the back burner.  Worth it!  But of course we can't really start until we can be certain, certain that we have brought everyone to the table that we possibly can.  After all, it just takes one bad apple and there go the timelines.  Right?”

She finds a place on the console next to Trav, where there don't seem to be any crucial and easily-tripped switches, and carefully sets down the old, crumbling book.

“I don't know if there's anything else you can tell us about these 'Warpsmiths of Phaidon',” she says.  “With help from the Chamber we've been able to map out a lot of their temporal shadows – places where a tale or a history has something missing.  According to Mr. Evers that is a solid indication of a person or a place being 'unwritten'.  Maybe this would have been in your 'Last Great Time War'.  Maybe not.  The point is, this is a reference that survived – so, if it is real and not just something made-up by its author, then its subject still should be then-and-there.”

Trav gives Amanda a big hug. "Well, look at you! You look great."

Trav very carefully, wearing latex gloves, takes the book and carefully sets it down on a nearby tray. She passes her sonic over the book, so that a 3D model of the item is taken into her secure system so she can read the contents without harming the artifact.

"The problem with this," says Trav, "Is that when timelines associated with artifacts disappear, time travel shenanigans can't bring back disappeared history without the appropriate detective work. An old comrade of mine sneered at archaeologists. But my husband was one, and they're vitally important in recovering the past. Back during the war, I had a whole division of them working for me. But since I no longer have my own personal Gallifreyan army, instead I'll have to make due."

Trav walks back to the TARDIS console and begins to snap switches and flip levers. "There's someone who decided to copy my turbopistol designs. She's being held in the Stormcage - apparent she walks in and out of the place like the Joker does Arkham Asylum - and she's a top rated archaelogist. She's accused of murdering the Doctor, but I know that's not true, because I saw the Doctor die before my very eyes. So, I have no issue with spring an innocent woman from jail." Trav pings out a text to her friends, asking if they want to help bust out an innocent woman from jail.

Trav smirks. "We're going to go pick up one professor River Song for some professional consultation."

She'd normally go grab Bernie Summerfield first, but she and Bernice had some... issues.

OOC: Dropping an SP for Major Friends talent. Also, a cute idea for a one shot guest star. Also, I'm way more familiar with River than I am with Bernice Summerfield.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:34, Mon 16 Nov 2015.

"It is good to see you again, Amanda." Stanley smiles.



Stanley looks at the crumbling book. "It looks old, but apart from that you wouldn't say that there was something special about it. Why did it survive being erased?"

"Sometimes things have a lot of emotional energy associated with them, like a well loved book. Some lives and dreams refused to be erased, for good or ill. The Warpsmiths were no joke - Rassilon took them seriously, which says something. It would take a lot to wipe out their lives and events."

As Trav walks down from the console, the time rotor moving up and down, to the cart that carries the book, she carefully opens the book with tweezers. She  feels like Louise again, handling old artifacts from the Time Before Rifts or the writings of Zor when she wore glasses. Looking at the book through a large magnifying glass.

"Enemies who might be erasing peoples pasts will be expecting technological shenanigans. That's why we're recruiting a real, honest to goodness archaelogist. Nothing beats actual experitise and footwork."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:33, Mon 16 Nov 2015.

Following a sequence involving the TARDIS nearly shaking itself to bits, a plummet through a vortex of crackling green force fields, and a greeting by fifteen pulse-rifle toting Marines....

The Stormcage is more than just a prison: it's a storehouse for criminals who have too much knowledge and potential inside them to be simply locked away for their allotted term.  In return for parsimoniously granted privileges, they're expected to provide their abilities and insights when called upon to assist with problems the authorities deem worthy of their talents.

Or, in this case, when the petitioner for a consultation is owed a large and significant favor.

"Hello, 'sweetie'," says Professor Song dryly.  She's seated cuffed by her ankle to a table extruded from the gleaming floor of the Consultation Chanber, on the other side of a transparisteel partition.  A full array of entirely ephemeral holoscreens surround her like the petals of a flower.  There's a matching table on the side of the room where Trav, Stanley and Amanda are all seated.  This one, Trav notes, has holoreceptor pickups to transmit a fully tactile image of anything placed and manipulated upon it to the prisoner's enclosure.  "And why do you feel the need to come and visit me, may I ask?  It's not like you've remembered to send flowers for three years now."

Trav is dressed smartly in a black mock turtleneck sleeveless vest, a houndstooth skirt and over the knee boots, the height of 60s fashion, her fedora rakishly cock to the side.

The only thing that Trav can think for the first 5 minutes is shit, she's hot. She always had a thing for sexy crooks - Billy The Kid, Al Capone, and the magnificent Corsair herself. "I don't think we've reached that stage in our relationship yet, babe. I'd remember sleeping with someone as hot as you. Have you met Stan and Amanda? You're someone whose met me but I haven't met yet, right?" Trav flips her wrist and out comes the sonic. She aims it nowhere in particular, and the data details of the mysterious book that Amanda recovered appear before Song - a virtual copy she can manipulate like the real thing.

"Have you ever heard of the Warpsmiths of Phaidon? It seems as if someone is trying to erase them, an already dead people, from the record of history. This is not cool. History is choices, Doctor Song, and I'm all about protecting people's choices, if you know anything about who I am."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:43, Wed 18 Nov 2015.

"Dreams are wonderful things to have, dear.  Aren't they?"


"Oh, trust me -- I know more about you than I've been able to successfully forget.  Never mind that now."

River bends over the virtual tome, peering at it through half-moon spectacles.  She looks up suspiciously at Trav.  "Where did you ever acquire one of the diaries of Racallan the Mad?  This is the fifth volume of his Journeys, and in this century there are only three copies of it known to be in existence.  Who, precisely, have you been stealing from?"

Trav leans forward saucily. "You can ask me that on our first date. Point is, someone seems to be trying to steal the events which brought this into being, seems like. We need to track down when this all starts, and if, as a time traveller, start using more obvious shenanigans to figure things out, whoever is working to erase the Warpsmiths from the historical will notice. I need your good old fashioned expertise. If things are as bad as I think they are, the other four volumes might not be in existence any more, except as your memories."

At her words, Trav purses her lips. "Also, if I have hurt you in your past, I'm sorry." So, she does have a future with Doctor Song.

She pulls out her Ipad, obtsensibly to take notes. Instead, she's having Chibi stealthily map out the Stormcage's systems. Obviously, River is someone important that she owes. To Stan and Amanda's phones, Amanda, where did you get this?
This message was last edited by the player at 12:46, Thu 19 Nov 2015.

Amanda gives Trav a questioning look as if to say Is there a reason we're not saying this out loud?

But she surreptitiously sends a reply-all: Evers.  Said the Chamber turned it up.

River shakes her head.  "I don't think Racallan's work has become quite as obscure as all that.  Obviously the man himself was a self-aggrandizing twit and jealous to a fault, but his explorations aren't to be easily dismissed.  As for the Warpsmiths...."

Her gaze sharpens.  "I suspect you could tell me more of what happened them than I can tell you.  That's what happens when one set of legends wipes out their predecessors; it's quite a vexing thing for a scholar, I can tell you.  With two time-travelling empires trying to write each other out of existence, things get lost, and there is very little that those trying to study them can do except work to sweep together the pieces."  She gives Trav an appraising look.  "Have you actually read Racallan's account yourself?"

Trav  winces a little at River's comment and then shrugs. "Can't say I have. You know, when you're running, sometimes it gets hard to get time reading time in, and last I remember the guy didn't collaborate with Kunihiko Ikuhhara. Bears eat people, growl growl." Trav is of course making a Yuri Kuma reference and how if it's not Yuri or Yaoi manga it probably doesn't wind up on her phone. "I can usually read 10 volumes of academic journals or 20 years of tankobon in about an hour, but then that's why we have awesome academics like you, Doctor Song!"

"As for warring, time faring empires - we live in the present, take responsibility, own our sins, and do what we can. There is quite literally nothing else we can do." She looks Song dead in the eyes, with dead certainty.

On the ipad: Time Traveller stuff. Doctor Song is in here for a reason, she's dangerous. We may be taking her along. She's a time traveller, like me. She thinks back to the vortex manipulators she snagged from Dorium Maldovar that she delivevered back to the Time Agency, another bunch of reprobates she didn't like.

OOC: Ingenuity+Knowledge roll for Raccallan the mad? Also, Ingenuity+Tech with a penalty for Chibi to infiltrate the Stormcage's security systems?
This message was last edited by the player at 14:54, Mon 23 Nov 2015.