Game 3Game 3 Outline| Game 3 |
Game 3 Outline |
You decide the Doctor's whereabouts aren't pertinent to the situation you find yourself in. All you know is you were ripped from reality, smacked around and jailed for failing to answer a riddle from some pompous, high-and-mighty royal. This makes you angry; your cheeks flush and you pout a bit. You're from a democratic country, darn it; it doesn't matter who's sitting on that throne; they can't do this.
"So," Izzy says, "...I dunno. What's to be done, you think?"
You sigh. "I don't know, Izzy. All I know is that they can't do this to people, can't lock us up just because they feel like it."
An indignity, that's what this is. An indignity against freedom. Far off in the black, a rusty old door shrieks open. Thunderous footsteps roll down the hall. Izzy gasps. Her voice rises in pitch.
"Ohhh, they're going to take someone away! I don't know where they go--I suspect to the Queen, or whatever she is. She must-" she pauses, "practice sorcery on them, or something..."
Here come the tormentors. Here come your jailers. Rage blossoms into fiery bloom. You look at Izzy. She sees the fire.
"Oh, no," she says,"You can't! They'll kill you!"
It's been awhile since you've been to karate class. You start stretching. The cell door opens! Izzy, in a moment of brilliance, shines the torch upon the wet, scaly thing outlined in the doorway, which is fondling a club about the size of a bat in its hands. Suddenly, the bat is no longer in its hands. The guard is suprised for only a half second, wherein you say:
"Liberty or Death!"
and knock home run out of the park with the guard's head (the head stays attached, though; I mean, if it was a baseball it would have been a homer). The guard slumps. Izzy looks petrified.
Every limb is shaking from adrenaline and fear, but you smile. That was a snappy line.
Written by Mr. Peaches
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