(no subject)
Verse: Canon
Word Count: 2282
Kerystos was a unique planet, in a way. It's people hale and hardy, it's plant life domineering and consuming, it's animals savage and brutal, all adapted to the strange climes that the planet had. Kerystos operated in a cyclical nature, staying in seasons far too long than any other planet. When the southern hemisphere roared with the blazes of summer, the ravaging wildfires that turned everything to ash, the northern hemisphere froze with the chill of winter, ice covering anything that dared remain stationary for too long.
The winter cycle was midway through at five years, at the very height of the cold and the chill. The weak of the past decade had long since fallen to the sides. The bodies of men, women, and children were burned. The ground was too frozen to dig graves - and graves were only permitted those who could not bare the heat of summer. Those who could not fare the winter were used to fuel the fires. One learned quickly on Kerystos that life was a matter of survival, and the weak could not be tolerated.
Perhaps that was what was the most appealing to the Master. These were a people bred for hardship; they could easily be bred for war and destruction, they just needed the push in the right direction. He had been coming for the past seven years now, observing the people, the creatures, the technological levels, trying to assess the best way to turn them to his side and use them to his own gains. It was a long and difficult process.
The people of Kerystos, the Kerysians, were a tall, yet stocky bunch. Thick arms and thick legs, with enough muscle to snap a human in two. Their fingers were long, nimble, delicate, tipped with curved claws - he had seen them in action once, in the summer, when a pack of delschans (delschans, of course, being a local species that had a body that seemed to be half made of crooked teeth and ate whatever it could catch) had assaulted the capitol city of Irict. They tore through flesh, fur, and bone as if it all was insubstantial, nothing more than smoke to be simply wafted away. There was power here, waiting to be harnessed by the right man.
The Master stepped out of his TARDIS and into the cold surroundings of Irict. Already the cold bit at him and sent a shiver down his spine, his breath hung in the air like it would with most species; which always amused him, it was cold enough on Kerystos that even his breath became foggy. He exhaled again, relishing it for a moment and then dispersing it as if it were smoke. He could enjoy the vagaries of winter later, once he had settled in and begun his delicate work.
It would be twilight soon, he noted as he locked the doors to his TARDIS - not that anyone could have seen them, she was in the ionic column state it took frequently, and he lazily ran a hand over her surface. She would be fine, of course; the Kerysians had no need of stone columns in winter. It was only a matter of habit that he locked her. One could never be too careful.
He tightened his cloak around him and began to trudge through the greying snow, identifying the old back road into the main square of the city and following it without deviance. One never wanted to lurk on the outskirts of Irict for too long. There were things that dwelled in waiting for those who lingered and weren't as keen in killing them as the Kerysians. Delschans were only one terror that lurked about. He had no desire to encounter any of the other creatures that roamed the streets.
A few of the people were still out, running the last bit of errands before the blue star that was the planet's sun set. The fading azure light only made the place seem that much colder, the winter that much brutal. Already the sky was being tinted with purples and greens, refracted colours on the clouds and snow; never any reds or orange, but that made no difference. If he wanted to stare at a sunset the colour of fire, he could go to some other planet. He wasn't on Kerystos for sight seeing, after all.
"Seta!" someone called out from behind him, and the Master's instantly slipped into the native language of the planet. Few people knew him here, only a handful of commoners whom he found to his advantage, a few of those who fell under noblesse oblige, and five of the local political party. In this section of the city, it had to have been one of the commoners.
The Master turned, pulling on a polite smile and slipping into the strange tongue of Kerystos. "Ahhh, Terryn... still out on the streets?"
Terryn strode through the thick snow as if it were nothing but a thin layer of powder and he loomed over the Master by a good foot and a half. "Aye. Didn't think you'd be still about - saw you a couple of weeks go, tendin' to your business."
"I'm afraid I was called in by a friend to attend to certain matters."
"Always business with you, isn't it? You ever take a break?"
He chuckled a bit, then shook his head. "Afraid not. I'm a busy man, Terryn. I've no time for pointless pleasantries."
Terryn grinned at him, showing each of his pointed and crooked teeth. He had long since learned to ignore them in the Kerysians, though they often slurred the speech; after conversing at length with various beings that considered what could only be considered a 'jutting tusk' pointed up towards the eye a sign of nobility, one tended to forget that it wasn't a completely common trait.
"Well, if you're still around for a bit, stop on by. You're always welcome in my home, Seta," Terryn said.
The Master bowed slightly. "I am ever in your debt, Terryn. Your kindness knows no bounds."
"I'm just offerin' a friend a visit, nothin' more." Terryn slung a sack over his shoulder and crouched down a bit to speak to the Master levelly. "I got to be headin'. Not safe goin' about after dark. You'll make sure you're off the streets come nightfall, aye?"
"Of course. I am always cautious."
The Kerysian pardoned himself from the Master's company and strode off down an alley. He had been hoping to avoid such an encounter, but even he couldn't predict every detail in existence. It would make no difference, the conversation lasted scant minutes, nothing that would impede him from any sort of task. There was urgency, but nothing to any sort of degree that a few minutes had shattered everything.
A cold wind bit at the Master, and he faintly cursed. He enjoyed the winter years of Kerystos far more than he did the summer, but at times it even grew too cold for his liking. The temperature was already plummeting as the light dwindled. He set his jaw and began his walk through the streets once more.
Buildings along the street were already lit, fires roaring in fireplaces, casting a yellow glint through thin glass and onto the snow. Smoke twisted from chimney stacks and the air was filled with the dual scent of burning wood and burning flesh. Somewhere nearby, one of the dead was being given their funeral, and the sickly sweet smell of blood, hair, skin, muscle was mostly overwhelmed - but he knew the smell. He couldn't help but grin just the faintest at the fact that the planet was still weeding out the weak and frail. Either a child or an elder, someone without a strong enough body and immune system to handle going through the rest of the season.
The city square opened up before him. The fountain in the center was covered with a layer of ice. In summer, it sprayed a fine mist of water into the air, allowing small plants and flowers to grow in the laid brick, in the small spaces where there was still dirt to be found. Last summer it had thrived with a poisonous flower, the crystal snap, and a few people met their deaths due to it. The winter would have killed off anything that remained; it wasn't a plant native to Kerystos, it hadn't adapted to the long winters. It was an interesting experiment none the less. Though now, with the ice over it, it was impossible to tell any life had been near at all. The Master assumed that the fountain had continued to spray the mist until it had become encased, then finally unable to mist itself any further.
And somewhere, in that fountain, there should have been a key. He had placed it there on his last visit, along with seven others. If it had all gone to plan, there would only be one key remaining; one made of pure silver and covered with elaborate carvings. He had them specifically made for this purpose, to count who would follow his ideas and who remained loyal to him. After he approached the fountain, he ran his gloved fingers along the ice, trailing them absently as he pulled up the memory of where he had stored the eight keys. It took less than a second, and he moved swiftly to the spot. It had iced over again, but he had prepared for it.
He pulled a small knife from a pocket and tossed the sheath in the snow. He wouldn't be needing it after this, it was just a quick tool to carve out what he needed. The Master crouched down and began to carefully chip away at the layer of ice, ignoring his body's shivering protest at remaining in the cold. The crack and shatter of ice was an ample distraction, and he focused on it with full intensity, tearing away layer after layer until he came upon the small enclave he had carved on his last visit. Inside was just a single, silver key.
The Master tossed the knife into the snow. No more use for it now. After all, he had what he needed. He grabbed the key and grit his teeth - the metal seemed far colder than the ice. It was as if he had plunged his own hand into arctic water and lost every scrap of heat he had to him. The experience was rare and nothing he wished to go through ever again. Just the once was enough; and he made a note that next time, for this sort of thing, he would rather brave intense heat.
Something growled in alley nearby, and he took that as enough signal that it was high time for him to move on. The sun had almost completely set and he was the last person still out. The only light still on most of the streets was that cast from homes and buildings, but it was enough for him to get by with. The snow he could have done without, yet there was nothing to be done about it. The Master stood and, with haste, darted down a northern road. He knew where he needed to head. A small, constantly locked building in a section of the city few people paid mind to, as few people lived there. He had chosen it for that express reason.
When he reached the building, he quickly unlocked it and allowed himself in. Whatever it was in the alley had followed him; he could hear the sounds of some creature sniffing about outside the door. He exhaled hard and shoved his key into his pocket, then relocked the door again. If the others whom had taken the keys were wise, they would have arrived before him. He would have to apologise for being late, but it was a trivial matter.
He removed his cloak and put it on a hook near the door. The air inside was warm enough for his liking that it was no longer needed, and now that he had become comfortable, he made his way to the largest room in the building. Like he had thought, he was the last to arrive. Seven Kerysians sat at a long table, speaking lowly and in hushed tones. Only a few candles lit their faces enough for the Master to make out who was who - four of them had crooked tusks; they were of four noble families. Another was a General who had lost one of his eyes as a boy and now sported a wicked eye patch. The other two were of Irict's industrial sector, or the equivalent of one. Seven of the most powerful men in the city had gathered together under his suggestion.
The Master remained completely confident as he sat in his seat at the head of the table. The seven Kerysians all turned their focus on him. They were scrutinizing and belittling, he could see it in the way they moved and gestured, the way the now silent air hung about them. These were men who had no fondness for games or for people who turned up late.
He didn't care for a bit of it. "Gentlemen, I'm so glad you could make it," the Master said smoothly, as if the distaste had dissipated. "I was afraid that you'd reconsider."
The General snorted and tapped his long claws against the table. "You're late."
"Do pardon me. A few things came up on the way and I was delayed. I assure you it shall not happen again."
"Hmph."
"Let's move on to business, shall we?" The Master smirked, and leaned just slightly over the table. "If you listen to me, my good friends, you will have anything you ever desired..."
Word Count: 2282
Kerystos was a unique planet, in a way. It's people hale and hardy, it's plant life domineering and consuming, it's animals savage and brutal, all adapted to the strange climes that the planet had. Kerystos operated in a cyclical nature, staying in seasons far too long than any other planet. When the southern hemisphere roared with the blazes of summer, the ravaging wildfires that turned everything to ash, the northern hemisphere froze with the chill of winter, ice covering anything that dared remain stationary for too long.
The winter cycle was midway through at five years, at the very height of the cold and the chill. The weak of the past decade had long since fallen to the sides. The bodies of men, women, and children were burned. The ground was too frozen to dig graves - and graves were only permitted those who could not bare the heat of summer. Those who could not fare the winter were used to fuel the fires. One learned quickly on Kerystos that life was a matter of survival, and the weak could not be tolerated.
Perhaps that was what was the most appealing to the Master. These were a people bred for hardship; they could easily be bred for war and destruction, they just needed the push in the right direction. He had been coming for the past seven years now, observing the people, the creatures, the technological levels, trying to assess the best way to turn them to his side and use them to his own gains. It was a long and difficult process.
The people of Kerystos, the Kerysians, were a tall, yet stocky bunch. Thick arms and thick legs, with enough muscle to snap a human in two. Their fingers were long, nimble, delicate, tipped with curved claws - he had seen them in action once, in the summer, when a pack of delschans (delschans, of course, being a local species that had a body that seemed to be half made of crooked teeth and ate whatever it could catch) had assaulted the capitol city of Irict. They tore through flesh, fur, and bone as if it all was insubstantial, nothing more than smoke to be simply wafted away. There was power here, waiting to be harnessed by the right man.
The Master stepped out of his TARDIS and into the cold surroundings of Irict. Already the cold bit at him and sent a shiver down his spine, his breath hung in the air like it would with most species; which always amused him, it was cold enough on Kerystos that even his breath became foggy. He exhaled again, relishing it for a moment and then dispersing it as if it were smoke. He could enjoy the vagaries of winter later, once he had settled in and begun his delicate work.
It would be twilight soon, he noted as he locked the doors to his TARDIS - not that anyone could have seen them, she was in the ionic column state it took frequently, and he lazily ran a hand over her surface. She would be fine, of course; the Kerysians had no need of stone columns in winter. It was only a matter of habit that he locked her. One could never be too careful.
He tightened his cloak around him and began to trudge through the greying snow, identifying the old back road into the main square of the city and following it without deviance. One never wanted to lurk on the outskirts of Irict for too long. There were things that dwelled in waiting for those who lingered and weren't as keen in killing them as the Kerysians. Delschans were only one terror that lurked about. He had no desire to encounter any of the other creatures that roamed the streets.
A few of the people were still out, running the last bit of errands before the blue star that was the planet's sun set. The fading azure light only made the place seem that much colder, the winter that much brutal. Already the sky was being tinted with purples and greens, refracted colours on the clouds and snow; never any reds or orange, but that made no difference. If he wanted to stare at a sunset the colour of fire, he could go to some other planet. He wasn't on Kerystos for sight seeing, after all.
"Seta!" someone called out from behind him, and the Master's instantly slipped into the native language of the planet. Few people knew him here, only a handful of commoners whom he found to his advantage, a few of those who fell under noblesse oblige, and five of the local political party. In this section of the city, it had to have been one of the commoners.
The Master turned, pulling on a polite smile and slipping into the strange tongue of Kerystos. "Ahhh, Terryn... still out on the streets?"
Terryn strode through the thick snow as if it were nothing but a thin layer of powder and he loomed over the Master by a good foot and a half. "Aye. Didn't think you'd be still about - saw you a couple of weeks go, tendin' to your business."
"I'm afraid I was called in by a friend to attend to certain matters."
"Always business with you, isn't it? You ever take a break?"
He chuckled a bit, then shook his head. "Afraid not. I'm a busy man, Terryn. I've no time for pointless pleasantries."
Terryn grinned at him, showing each of his pointed and crooked teeth. He had long since learned to ignore them in the Kerysians, though they often slurred the speech; after conversing at length with various beings that considered what could only be considered a 'jutting tusk' pointed up towards the eye a sign of nobility, one tended to forget that it wasn't a completely common trait.
"Well, if you're still around for a bit, stop on by. You're always welcome in my home, Seta," Terryn said.
The Master bowed slightly. "I am ever in your debt, Terryn. Your kindness knows no bounds."
"I'm just offerin' a friend a visit, nothin' more." Terryn slung a sack over his shoulder and crouched down a bit to speak to the Master levelly. "I got to be headin'. Not safe goin' about after dark. You'll make sure you're off the streets come nightfall, aye?"
"Of course. I am always cautious."
The Kerysian pardoned himself from the Master's company and strode off down an alley. He had been hoping to avoid such an encounter, but even he couldn't predict every detail in existence. It would make no difference, the conversation lasted scant minutes, nothing that would impede him from any sort of task. There was urgency, but nothing to any sort of degree that a few minutes had shattered everything.
A cold wind bit at the Master, and he faintly cursed. He enjoyed the winter years of Kerystos far more than he did the summer, but at times it even grew too cold for his liking. The temperature was already plummeting as the light dwindled. He set his jaw and began his walk through the streets once more.
Buildings along the street were already lit, fires roaring in fireplaces, casting a yellow glint through thin glass and onto the snow. Smoke twisted from chimney stacks and the air was filled with the dual scent of burning wood and burning flesh. Somewhere nearby, one of the dead was being given their funeral, and the sickly sweet smell of blood, hair, skin, muscle was mostly overwhelmed - but he knew the smell. He couldn't help but grin just the faintest at the fact that the planet was still weeding out the weak and frail. Either a child or an elder, someone without a strong enough body and immune system to handle going through the rest of the season.
The city square opened up before him. The fountain in the center was covered with a layer of ice. In summer, it sprayed a fine mist of water into the air, allowing small plants and flowers to grow in the laid brick, in the small spaces where there was still dirt to be found. Last summer it had thrived with a poisonous flower, the crystal snap, and a few people met their deaths due to it. The winter would have killed off anything that remained; it wasn't a plant native to Kerystos, it hadn't adapted to the long winters. It was an interesting experiment none the less. Though now, with the ice over it, it was impossible to tell any life had been near at all. The Master assumed that the fountain had continued to spray the mist until it had become encased, then finally unable to mist itself any further.
And somewhere, in that fountain, there should have been a key. He had placed it there on his last visit, along with seven others. If it had all gone to plan, there would only be one key remaining; one made of pure silver and covered with elaborate carvings. He had them specifically made for this purpose, to count who would follow his ideas and who remained loyal to him. After he approached the fountain, he ran his gloved fingers along the ice, trailing them absently as he pulled up the memory of where he had stored the eight keys. It took less than a second, and he moved swiftly to the spot. It had iced over again, but he had prepared for it.
He pulled a small knife from a pocket and tossed the sheath in the snow. He wouldn't be needing it after this, it was just a quick tool to carve out what he needed. The Master crouched down and began to carefully chip away at the layer of ice, ignoring his body's shivering protest at remaining in the cold. The crack and shatter of ice was an ample distraction, and he focused on it with full intensity, tearing away layer after layer until he came upon the small enclave he had carved on his last visit. Inside was just a single, silver key.
The Master tossed the knife into the snow. No more use for it now. After all, he had what he needed. He grabbed the key and grit his teeth - the metal seemed far colder than the ice. It was as if he had plunged his own hand into arctic water and lost every scrap of heat he had to him. The experience was rare and nothing he wished to go through ever again. Just the once was enough; and he made a note that next time, for this sort of thing, he would rather brave intense heat.
Something growled in alley nearby, and he took that as enough signal that it was high time for him to move on. The sun had almost completely set and he was the last person still out. The only light still on most of the streets was that cast from homes and buildings, but it was enough for him to get by with. The snow he could have done without, yet there was nothing to be done about it. The Master stood and, with haste, darted down a northern road. He knew where he needed to head. A small, constantly locked building in a section of the city few people paid mind to, as few people lived there. He had chosen it for that express reason.
When he reached the building, he quickly unlocked it and allowed himself in. Whatever it was in the alley had followed him; he could hear the sounds of some creature sniffing about outside the door. He exhaled hard and shoved his key into his pocket, then relocked the door again. If the others whom had taken the keys were wise, they would have arrived before him. He would have to apologise for being late, but it was a trivial matter.
He removed his cloak and put it on a hook near the door. The air inside was warm enough for his liking that it was no longer needed, and now that he had become comfortable, he made his way to the largest room in the building. Like he had thought, he was the last to arrive. Seven Kerysians sat at a long table, speaking lowly and in hushed tones. Only a few candles lit their faces enough for the Master to make out who was who - four of them had crooked tusks; they were of four noble families. Another was a General who had lost one of his eyes as a boy and now sported a wicked eye patch. The other two were of Irict's industrial sector, or the equivalent of one. Seven of the most powerful men in the city had gathered together under his suggestion.
The Master remained completely confident as he sat in his seat at the head of the table. The seven Kerysians all turned their focus on him. They were scrutinizing and belittling, he could see it in the way they moved and gestured, the way the now silent air hung about them. These were men who had no fondness for games or for people who turned up late.
He didn't care for a bit of it. "Gentlemen, I'm so glad you could make it," the Master said smoothly, as if the distaste had dissipated. "I was afraid that you'd reconsider."
The General snorted and tapped his long claws against the table. "You're late."
"Do pardon me. A few things came up on the way and I was delayed. I assure you it shall not happen again."
"Hmph."
"Let's move on to business, shall we?" The Master smirked, and leaned just slightly over the table. "If you listen to me, my good friends, you will have anything you ever desired..."