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Author Topic: The Magnificent Timelord - Epilogued  (Read 180586 times)

Toaster

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Re: The Magnificent Timelord: Bowienauts of Freedom. Turn Twenty Five.
« Reply #195 on: March 28, 2012, 07:51:39 am »

"Good idea, boss!  Um, how do you maneuver this carriage?"

Hop in, take the wheel, pick up the Aussie and get out!
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HMR stands for Hazardous Materials Requisition, not Horrible Massive Ruination, though I can understand how one could get confused.
God help us if we have to agree on pizza toppings at some point. There will be no survivors.

monk12

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Re: The Magnificent Timelord: Bowienauts of Freedom. Turn Twenty Five.
« Reply #196 on: March 28, 2012, 08:22:28 pm »

Hilarious as ever. "king of my fractured left ear!” in particular

freeformschooler

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Re: The Magnificent Timelord: Bowienauts of Freedom. Turn Twenty Five.
« Reply #197 on: March 28, 2012, 08:31:22 pm »

Oh God, this is amazing. Now I spend every turn looking for #Bay12RTD references. Is Digital actually playing Marcus on the side?

"Argh, uh..." Paul relaxes in the vehicle as he looks for something to patch himself up with. "Hello there, ladies."

As they drive off, Paul looks at Marcus. "Ya' know, lad, with cool swag like this, I'd be surprised if ya' weren't a Timelord yourself."
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Talarion

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Re: The Magnificent Timelord: Bowienauts of Freedom. Turn Twenty Five.
« Reply #198 on: March 29, 2012, 04:59:05 am »

Pick up? BAH! Surf that Croc to the courtesanmobile, before jumping off and into the car! Then fix that damned wound!
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Fate/Stay Night: OOC thread - Serious talk about the canon characters' bisexuality, gravity rape, Noble Phantasm balance, Tiruin's character level of dumbness versus naivete, how sick and tainted my mind is, linguistics and much more.

What more do you need?

10ebbor10

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Re: The Magnificent Timelord: Bowienauts of Freedom. Turn Twenty Five.
« Reply #199 on: March 29, 2012, 05:37:55 am »

Off we go, I guess.( Does multiply That give bonusses to agressive driving? if yes, do that)
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lawastooshort

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The Magnificent Timelord: Bowienauts of Freedom. Turn Twenty Six
« Reply #200 on: March 29, 2012, 05:12:39 pm »

CHAPTER ONE: TURN TWENTY SIX

Hop in, take the wheel, pick up the Aussie and get out!



"Good idea, boss!” shouts Crockett over the intercom, “Um, how do you maneuver this carriage?"

“Man, this ain't no ordinary carriage, son! It's a bloody pimpmobile! Well, actually, no, they prefer I call it the courtesanmobile nowadays... Anyway... But don't worry, it’s easy, man! You just uh… er… Emma?! Head on down there and show Mr Crockett how to operate this thing, will you? And… uh… try to shield your eyes…”
 
Off we go, I guess. (Does Multiply That give bonuses to aggressive driving? if yes, do that)



“Hello. Do you mind if I call you Emma? Is that… Miss Emma? Would you mind terribly if I observed whilst you explain how to operate this vehicle?”

“You er… you like to watch, Mr Archimedes?”

“Please, call me… uh… just Archimedes… You know, I’m a professional mathematician…”

“Fascinating…”

“Yes, quite. You know, when you’ve finished with Mr Crockett, I could show you some particularly fascinating angles, if you know what I mean…”

“Er…”

“Look…”


Suddenly Archimedes starts waving his arms in the air and chanting Pi to several dozen decimal places! He mentions degrees! He mentions multiplying this! He mentions multiplying that! Miss Emma’s eyes glaze over!

“Er… Mr Archimedes, I’ve really got to go! Oh gosh! Oh no! Put that away!”

Miss Emma jumps through the floorhatch into the passenger seat next to Mr Crockett!

“Nobody ever wants to check out my scroll of Pi,” mumbles Archimedes of Syracuse.

“Not smooth, my man,” comments Marcus Aurelius. “That was business, man… you shouldn’t try to mix recitals of Pi with hot ladi-er I mean business with pleasure, gnome sayin'?”

“What?”

“Yeah… never mind… Laura? You get Mr Archimedes here a nice cool drink, will you? And uh… try to uh… try to shield your ears…”

Paul relaxes in the vehicle as he looks for something to patch himself up with.



"Argh, uh..." moans Paul, collapsed and bleeding a little in the back. “I wonder if there’s anything here to patch me up with? Hmm, wonder what this button do-oh, hello there, ladies… Paul McCartney, Last Beatle, at your service - but you can call me Paul.”

“My name’s Cindy!”

“Hello Paul! I’m Candy!”

“I bet you are… er… or… something.”


Suddenly Marcus Aurelius pops his head down the backseat floorhatch.

“You ok there Paul? Archimedes said you were hurt pretty bad, son, but if you’re capable of holding a civilised non-mathematics based conversation I’d welcome you up top in the hot tub with me and the rest of the girls… Gotta be quick though, because we’re leaving as soon as Davy figures out the controls, and if you want in the hot tub, you gotta be in the hot tub before those rocket boosters kick in...”

"Ya' know, lad, with cool swag like this, I'd be surprised if ya' weren't a Timelord yourself."

“Ha! A Timelord? No sir – there's only one Timelord I've ever met, you know? Although there's several of him. It's a little confusing. I'll tell you about it one day if we get the chance. You know, all of us here owe a bloody tremendous debt to the Timelord, he's not called the Magnificent for nothing... Anyway, that's for some other time, I’m heading back up. I need a backrub.”



Giggles suddenly break through over the courtesanmobile intercom.

“Mr Aurelius? I think Mr Crockett has got the feel of things now! We can go!”

“Uh okay… everybody on board? Ok girls, here we go! Initiate booster activation countdown.”

“Boosters preparing to activate in 20.”

“Seal roof for takeoff.”

“Roof sealed!”

“Stabilise hot tub.”

“Hot tub stabilised!”

“Plot a course for the orbital space pod and press that button, baby! Ooh! Lower! Lower a bit more! Oh yeah, just there!”

“Is that nice, Mr Aurelius?”

“Yeah baby, you know, that’s the best backrub I’ve had since… well… probably last night… or uh... maybe this morning…”

Pick up? BAH! Surf that Croc to the courtesanmobile, before jumping off and into the car! Then fix that damned wound!



“Er… Mr Aurelius? Can we stop the rocket booster ignition countdown?”

“Hey baby, you know we can’t do that… what’s up?”

“It’s Mr Irwin… he’s not on board!”

“Oh shoot… I thought everybody was on board? If he’s not bloody well on board then where the devil is he?”

“He’s… he’s riding after us on a crocodile, sir! Sir! We only have 15 seconds till rocket booster ignition!”

Marcus Aurelius jumps up from his position in the Jacuzzi and strolls over to the nearest window. He winds it down and sticks his head out.

“Stevo!”

“Don’t go without me, fellas!”

“Stevo! We aren’t gonna leave you to the communists, man! Now listen up! Can you get any more speed out of that thing?”

“What, this croc? Sure thing mate, I’m the bleedin’ king of croc racing, mate!”

“Ok, well, we’ve only got one go at this, so you got to get it right first time. Hold her steady at 50, that’s the slowest we can go without setting the rockets off prematurely! Now, keep her in a straight line, Stevo! Don’t let her budge!”

“Ok mate, I’ve got her in a straight line – but I can’t go any faster mate, I can’t catch up with you!”

“That’s ok Stevo, you don’t have to go any faster… you just have to stand up and surf that damn crocodile. Now, hold on, I’m gonna get naked…”

“Er…”

“Don’t worry, it’s just to whip off my toga belt this time. Now, you ready? When I throw you this end, you got to grab hold, son… You ready?”

“Ready!”

Suddenly, just as Marcus Aurelius is about to throw his lengthy toga belt to the croc-surfing Irwin behind the courtesanmobile, the nearby collapsing pyramid explodes! Marcus Aurelius is nearly thrown out of the speeding courtesanmobile window! A chorus of high-pitched screams rings out!

“No! Marcus!”

“Mr Aurelius! No!”


Several courtesans leap like flying fish across the surface of the hot tub and grab a firm hold on the naked Pimperator's ankles!

The horizontal Aurelius launches his toga belt towards Steve Irwin, ...who totally manages to catch it one-handed whilst using his other hand to keep control of the speeding crocodile!

“Yee-ha!” yells the Aussie, trailing some thirty feet behind the courtesanmobile as the rocket boosters ignite. “Yee-haaaaarrrrrrrrrrggggggg!”

The courtesanmobile shoots into the night sky to safety!

…   …   …   …   …   …

As he's about to sit back and recline in the bubbling hot tub, Marcus suddenly feels a gentle whisper in his ear.

“Uh... Marcus? What's going to happen to Mr Irwin when we break through the atmosphere towards the Timelord's orbital space pod? You know, with him being on the outside and all?”

“Er... shit.”

…   …   …   …   …   …



“Don't worry Marcus, I got your back mate, just like in Germany... switching to general bowiemergency channel in 3, 2, 1. This is the Magnificent Timelord to Steve Irwin, over?”

“Uh... this is Steve Irwin, over. Er, no, wait, not over yet mate – I'm uh... I'm on a crocodile behind the pimpmobile, mate, and it's getting a little tricky to breath up here.”

“Over?”

“Oh yeah, sorry. Over.”

“Hey, I told him it's not the Pimpmobile anymore David, they don't like it when I call it tha-”

“Yeah, it's not the time Marcus. Look, Stevo? I'm gonna need you to get naked, okay?”

“Er...”

“No, really. No time for arguing, man – look, in about 10 seconds you and the pi- uh, sorry, courtesanmobile are going to break through the Earth's atmosphere. You're going to be under pressure, and worse, there's no oxygen up here. So I need you to get naked and to wrap those khaki shorts of your around your face, okay? Khaki shorts were the main component in the Soviet space program in my home timeline, and we all- damn, sorry, no time. You got five seconds Stevo, get them damn khaki shorts on your face! And hold tight!”

…   …   …   …   …   …   

Suddenly the tens of thousands of communists milling purposelessly about in the jungle below the rapidly ascending courtesanmobile see a bright flash in the night sky as the pimped up car and its crocodile trailer burst through the Earth's atmosphere.

“Did you hear that comrade?”

“What?”

“I swear I heard some kind of... muffled Aussie voice or something?”

“Really?”

“Yeah... I swear on ChairMan Miaow's venerable soul, I heard it cry out... something... something about...”

“About what, comrade?”

“I dunno, it kind of sounded a bit like...”

“A bit like what, brother?”


“What a beauty! Crikeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey!!”

Spoiler: Detailed Map (click to show/hide)



END OF CHAPTER ONE


VITAL STATISTICS OF THE BOWIENAUTS

EFFECTS IN EFFECT
None.
Spoiler: Archimedes of Syracuse (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)
« Last Edit: March 29, 2012, 05:15:35 pm by lawastooshort »
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monk12

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Re: The Magnificent Timelord: Bowienauts of Freedom. Turn Twenty Six
« Reply #201 on: March 29, 2012, 05:33:19 pm »

Several courtesans leap like flying fish across the surface of the hot tub and grab a firm hold on the naked Pimperator's ankles!

Don't mind me, I'm just gonna sig that. Carry on with your interlude.

freeformschooler

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Re: The Magnificent Timelord: Bowienauts of Freedom. Turn Twenty Six
« Reply #202 on: March 29, 2012, 09:17:55 pm »

This may have been the best turn yet. Do we post actions or something?
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Toaster

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Re: The Magnificent Timelord: Bowienauts of Freedom. Turn Twenty Six
« Reply #203 on: March 29, 2012, 09:25:12 pm »

As long as it doesn't end in me bleeding to death out of my big fat head.
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HMR stands for Hazardous Materials Requisition, not Horrible Massive Ruination, though I can understand how one could get confused.
God help us if we have to agree on pizza toppings at some point. There will be no survivors.

lawastooshort

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The Magnificent Timelord: Interlude
« Reply #204 on: March 31, 2012, 08:43:34 am »

INTERLUDE

The coutesanmobile starts slowing to a halt as it manoeuvres to dock gently with the orbital space pod, Aussie National Hero and crocodile mount still trailing in the gentle orbital space breeze of the pimprocket’s wake.



“This is Marcus Aurelius to control. Commencing docking routine, over.”

“Roger, ini-"

“No no, Marc- oh, yeah, I see what… never mind. As you were, private.”

“Initiating airlock safety procedure.”

“Can you ready the reptilian disposal crew for when we land? And we need four medical teams on emergency standby in the docking hall; the lads are hurt pretty bad.”

“Roger that. Medical teams on standby. Over and out.”

…   …   …   …   …   …



“Good work, men,” starts the Magnificent Timelord as he paces up and down the row of medical ward beds. “Our evilometer has been showing significantly reduced readings since you took out that living monstrosity. But! The war is not won yet, man, far from it. This world is still so ravaged by evil that it’s seeping through its timeline and beginning to crash in giant waves of evil into other times and places! It’s actually pretty frightening man. Yeah.”

“Anyway, so, I’m afraid there’s not going to be much time for you to rest and recuperate, you know? We’ve got intelligence to suggest that we’re gonna get a once in a lifetime crack at an awful tyrant outside of his fortress.”

“It’s going to be dangerous. It’s going to be difficult. It’s going to be in the middle of a bloody warzone, lads! That’s right dudes, I’m sending you down into what will, in the future, be known as the Battle of Stalingrad… to take down ROBOSTALIN!”

“You see, since dinoHITLER sent the sixteenth dinoPANZER brigade into the fight earlier this month, things haven’t been going so well down there for the Soviets, you dig? So ROBOSTALIN, in his foolish and fiendish pride, has headed down there himself to try and turn the tide – and he’s going to be roughly 2.74 times more vulnerable on the battlefield than he is in his Moscow bunker!”




“According to our scientists?”

“According to our scientists, Paul, according to our scientists.”

…   …   …   …   …   …

“Now – I hope you’ve all had enough to time to mostly get over your horrible wounds… I’m afraid that for some of them,” and here Bowie glances briefly towards Davy Crockett, “There’s just nothing that even my personal scientists can do anything about. I’m sorry man, but sometimes the human body can just be a little freaky like that. I need you to get ready, get fed, and get down to the drop pod bay for eleven hundred hours, yeah?”



“Okay mate! Can I just ask one little question, Magnificent Timelord?”

“Yeah, sure thing, man.”

“I’ve… I’ve been feeling kinda strange since I got out of bed… more… kinda… y’know… stronger, more like my old self?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to bloody tell you didn’t I – the time you spent resting has enabled your bodies to speed up the adjustment process to the temporal distortions and hastened the neural realignment… uh… I asked our scientists to translate this into plain English… It appears that you have uh…”

TOTALLY LEVELLED UP!

Spoiler: Detailed Map (click to show/hide)



COMMENCING COUNTDOWN TO CHAPTER TWO



The magnificent drop pod blazes round half the Earth's atmosphere as it travels from the orbital space pod to the depths of the Eastern Front, and as the parachutes automatically open at fifteen thousand feet for a stealth entry into the battlefield the four bowienauts are jolted into alertness.

“Jesus...” blasphemes McCartney, peering through the blast windows to the city below. “It looks even worse than the Black Country! You seen the Black Country fellas? It kinda looks like that... but, yer know, without the raging battle going on...”


A few minutes pass as the ground and the chatter of incessant small arms fire seem to rise to meet them, and the drop pod's auto-aligners gently puff into action to direct the crew to the designated landing zone.

”Hey,” chirps up Paul McCartney again, ”Did the Timelord mention anything about an exfiltration plan this time? No 'chopper on the extraction point in twenty minutes' or anything like that?”

”No, my friend, he didn't,” replies Archimedes. ”But, you know, we can cross that bridge if we get to it, huh? For now, well. I for one have faith. I'm sure the Timelord wouldn't just make this up as we go along.”

”Yeah mate – you see the way he saved my backside when I was dangling by a toga belt off the back of a pimpmobile at high altitude? He knew exactly what to do, fella. Hell, I'd probably even trust him with me khaki shorts, mate!”

…   …   …   …   …   ...

Another jolt suddenly brings the crew members to attention: the drop pod touches down, dropping lightly into the corner of a ruined square in a quieter part of the city. The parachute follows down and drapes itself in slow motion over one side of the drop pod. Davy moves over to one of the blast windows on the uncovered side and looks out.



”I don't think anyone's noticed us chaps.”

He pauses whilst consulting the satellite-guided direction finder on his neural imagery interlay.

”So... I think we're right on target. No-man's land. We've got to head... north east,” he continues, pointing out in the direction of the drop pod's door. ”Anyhow – we should probably get out of this contraption quick-sharp before it gets spotted by an enemy patrol. Everyone ready?”

Spoiler: Detailed Map (click to show/hide)



CHAPTER TWO BLASTING OFF!


VITAL STATISTICS OF THE BOWIENAUTS

EFFECTS IN EFFECT
None.
Spoiler: Archimedes of Syracuse (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)
« Last Edit: March 31, 2012, 02:43:17 pm by lawastooshort »
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freeformschooler

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Re: The Magnificent Timelord: Interlude
« Reply #205 on: March 31, 2012, 09:10:37 am »

"Hum... Russia, huh? I'm not really a war kind of guy." Paul McCartney creeps out of the drop pod. "Say, what's that over there?"

He examines to destroyed fountain for anything useful and/or suspicious.
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Toaster

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Re: The Magnificent Timelord: Interlude
« Reply #206 on: March 31, 2012, 11:31:30 am »

"Let's assume a defensive position while we get our bearings!" shouts Davy as he does so.


Move to cover and observe the surroundings.



By the way, the status line of my status didn't get updated, I believe.
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HMR stands for Hazardous Materials Requisition, not Horrible Massive Ruination, though I can understand how one could get confused.
God help us if we have to agree on pizza toppings at some point. There will be no survivors.

lawastooshort

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The Magnificent Timelord: L'Interlude
« Reply #207 on: April 01, 2012, 03:57:37 pm »

CHAPITRE DEUX




Et, avec un sursaut, le Magnifique Seigneur du Temps se reveilla.

«Ça alors, mec!» cria-t-il. «Ce ne fut qu'un rêve! Nom d'une pipe! Et Marcus? Je n'ai pas pu imaginer un tel macqempereur? Et je suis devenu un poisson? Zut!»

Marcus Aurelius, seizième empereur de l'Empire Romain, entra dans la pièce avec un pas enragé.

«Putain de merde!» il hurla. «Ca alors! Je suis gravement en retard pour ce genre de connerie! Tellement en retard que ce n'est officiellement plus drôle! Et que ce ne l'était déjà pas de toutes façons! Et en plus là j'avais l'intention de le faire beaucoup plus tôt ce matin, mais j’étais tout occupé à être un homme de famille - comme tu le sais très bien! Sacré bleu! Ce n'était pas un rêve, David! Non! C'était-»

«Non Marcus! Ne dit rien! Je t'en supplie! Il ne faut rien révéler! Putain, comment dit-on en français 'a spoiler'? Comment dit-on 'un plot-twist'?!»

«Je sais pas, David, je sais pas. Je parle pas en fait français – je parle que la langue de l'amour. Et pour ça, faut que tu écoutes avec les yeux, mon ami. Faut que tu écoutes avec les yeux. Regardes.»

«Non! Marcuuusss!»

«Crikey, pote!»
« Last Edit: April 01, 2012, 04:04:40 pm by lawastooshort »
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freeformschooler

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Re: The Magnificent Timelord: Les Bowienauts à Stalingrad
« Reply #208 on: April 01, 2012, 06:38:46 pm »

Did... was... MarcusxBowie slash fic?
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Re: The Magnificent Timelord: Les Bowienauts à Stalingrad
« Reply #209 on: April 01, 2012, 06:56:20 pm »

私は知らないが、いずれにせよ、それはむしろ、メタだ。ボウイを考慮すると、彼らがフランス語で、その話していることに気付き、彼はフランス語を話す方法を知りません
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You get attacked by a Yandere triangle monster.
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