[ His captors are silent as the grave as they lead him out, surrounding him as they made their way down the long corridor, the chanting from the chamber they neared growing louder. Their lack of response doesn't stop him from doing what he does best-- filling the empty spaces with lots and lots of talking. ]
I am loving the ambiance of this place. You know, a lot of cults just don't go for this kind of true dedication to authenticity these days. Oh, they might splurge for a spooky graveyard or a ceremonial altar from IKEA, but you lot-- now this is really my idea of a secret sanctum. Long corridors, dingy cells, and the acoustics truly are impressive. We must be, oh-- somewhere around ten meters beneath ground level?
I don't suppose any of you chatty lot would be able to tell me where I am?
[ The only answer he gets is the continued chanting. It doesn't sound like any language he's familiar with, and the TARDIS isn't translating it for him. Something about it was familiar, but he just couldn't put his finger on it.
They finally lead him into the large chamber, where the rest of the congregation were. The chamber was lit by rows of candles lining the floor and tall, rusty candelabras arranged in a circle. It looked exactly like you might imagine a room where a cult might gather to perform blood rituals-- right down to the details of vaguely occultish pentagrams and sigils decorating the floor. There weren't as many cultists gathered as he had expected, which he wasn't going to complain about in the least. ]
Only thirteen of you? Honestly, I'm a bit disappointed, I would have expected at least--
[ Whatever he was about to say was cut short as a man wearing dark robes slightly more elaborate than the rest moved forward, arms spread wide, and began reciting what was clearly some ritualistic speech, still in that same language the Doctor couldn't quite place. Two of his escorts took hold of him, one to each arm, and brought him forward to what was apparently the center stage for the main event. ]
Oh, moving right along, are we? I thought we had at least ten minutes left. You're aiming for the thirteenth hour, aren't you? Maybe you need to adjust your clocks. Thirteen regenerations, thirteen members, thirteen hours-- thirteen candelabras?
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I am loving the ambiance of this place. You know, a lot of cults just don't go for this kind of true dedication to authenticity these days. Oh, they might splurge for a spooky graveyard or a ceremonial altar from IKEA, but you lot-- now this is really my idea of a secret sanctum. Long corridors, dingy cells, and the acoustics truly are impressive. We must be, oh-- somewhere around ten meters beneath ground level?
I don't suppose any of you chatty lot would be able to tell me where I am?
[ The only answer he gets is the continued chanting. It doesn't sound like any language he's familiar with, and the TARDIS isn't translating it for him. Something about it was familiar, but he just couldn't put his finger on it.
They finally lead him into the large chamber, where the rest of the congregation were. The chamber was lit by rows of candles lining the floor and tall, rusty candelabras arranged in a circle. It looked exactly like you might imagine a room where a cult might gather to perform blood rituals-- right down to the details of vaguely occultish pentagrams and sigils decorating the floor. There weren't as many cultists gathered as he had expected, which he wasn't going to complain about in the least. ]
Only thirteen of you? Honestly, I'm a bit disappointed, I would have expected at least--
[ Whatever he was about to say was cut short as a man wearing dark robes slightly more elaborate than the rest moved forward, arms spread wide, and began reciting what was clearly some ritualistic speech, still in that same language the Doctor couldn't quite place. Two of his escorts took hold of him, one to each arm, and brought him forward to what was apparently the center stage for the main event. ]
Oh, moving right along, are we? I thought we had at least ten minutes left. You're aiming for the thirteenth hour, aren't you? Maybe you need to adjust your clocks. Thirteen regenerations, thirteen members, thirteen hours-- thirteen candelabras?