Molly Duncan
Aug 19, 2013 18:02:36 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Aug 19, 2013 18:02:36 GMT -5
Original
Name:Molly Duncan
Age:25
Gender:female
Species:human
Planet of Origin:Earth
Occupation:soldier
Physical Description:Slender, red hair, short
Personality:Molly is a very determined, loving, and spunky woman.
History:Born: February 1891. Molly is a very troubled woman with a very troubled past. Her childhood was fantastic. Her father was an adventurer and he often took her and her mother along for the ride. She’s been to India, Africa, China, America, and all the European countries. She is well educated and knows several languages. She met her husband when her father died. It was an arranged marriage, but she didn’t mind. She soon fell madly in love with James Duncan and he with her. They returned from their honeymoon in November of 1913. Life was perfect…until the Great War swept it all away.
James died in the first battle of Marne in 1914. Soon after receiving the news she miscarried their first child. Consumed by grief Molly did the only thing she could think to do—she joined the war effort as a signal woman. On the way to her first post her lorry was upturned by a wayward shell. The driver died on impact. She took her chance, cut her hair, took his uniform, and assumed his place in an Irish fusilier division. Her first post was Gallipoli, and it went downhill from there. She survived by being quick witted and sharp sighted. After Gallipoli she was transferred to France and the Somme.
Her secret is not an easy one to keep in a trench full of men…and her time is running out.
Addition Medical Information:A bout of malaria as a child and a few broken bones from her adventures. She’s been shot a few times, but nothing serious.
RP Sample:
The Doctor returned to Molly’s recovery tent in time to see Colonel Hubbard leave. He seemed a bit stiffer than usual and when the Doctor tried to talk with him he only shrugged and continued on. When he entered the hovel he found three armed guards and Molly curled up in tears on her cot.
“They’ve change their minds, sir. I’m to die at dawn, for espionage. I joined the war to die, sir—but not like this.”
“You won’t die, Molly. Let me talk to the colonel. I’ll have his cleared up in a jiffy.” The Doctor left the tent and caught up with the colonel who had been talking with his lieutenant. They both seemed stiffer than they had been when he’d first met them a few hours before.
“I thought you’d decided to give me custody of the girl.”
“She is a spy.”
“Then she should be taken into custody and put before a tribunal—not shot in some trench without due process.”
“This is war, colonel. We do not have time to hold a trial.”
“Colonel, Molly Duncan is no spy!”
The colonel turned and faced the Doctor. His stare was strangely vacant and his green eyes didn’t move to meet his challenger. He grabbed the colonel’s arm and pulled back. The skin was cold—not the cold of winter, but the cold of death.
The Doctor backed into the hovel where Molly lay. The colonel stood in front of him and ordered the guards to keep him at bay. They threw him to the cold ground.
“You are also a spy! You will die with the girl!” The colonel and his guards left them alone. When the guards returned they shared the colonel’s vacant stare.
“Well, it never fails.”
“You’re not a colonel, are you?”
“Ah, Molly—stay there. I have a feeling you’ll need all the rest you can get.” He leaned against her cot. “No, I’m not a colonel. I’m the Doctor—and I’m here to help you.”
Molly blinked. “What is going on?”
“The Rutan has killed the colonel, and probably every man in this trench.”
“But the colonel was just here!”
“That wasn’t the colonel.” He leaned in close. “And those aren’t the guards.”
“What do we do?”
“We can’t save them, but we can save the rest of the men—on both sides.”
“How do I know you’re not one of them?”
“The Rutan can’t kill me—at least, not as easily as it can kill humans and it certainly can’t take me over.”
“You’re not human, then?”
“No.”
“I think I’ve read too much Wells.” Her head sank back into her pillow and she closed her eyes.
“Ah, old Herbert was a good man—bit strange, but the best artists always are. Don’t worry, Molly. I said I was on your side and I meant it—but you’re going to have to trust me.”
Molly could only nod her head. The Doctor bent over and removed the tube from her arm. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to need you clear-headed if this is going to work.” Within five minutes Molly was asleep. The opiates would wear off in a few hours and then his plan would go into action.
The sun was completely gone when Molly awoke to the Doctor’s pacing. The guards hadn’t moved, not even their eyes had shifted. The Doctor grabbed a shirt from a pile of old uniforms and helped her slip it on over the bandages. Even when the Doctor helped her to her feet the soldiers still didn’t move.
“Why aren’t they reacting?”
“They’re dead, Molly—their orders are to stop us if we try to leave through that door. However, if we go around them to the other side of the hovel there is a hole large enough for us to crawl through. I’ve already been outside and they haven’t sounded the alarm.”
“If that’s true then they won’t mind me doing this.” She went over to the nearest guard and slowly removed his sidearm. The man didn’t move.
“We don’t need that—it’s useless anyway. Only a large blast will disturb its gelatinous structure, or a laser—but I’d need the TARDIS for that and the TARDIS is too far from here. We’d never make it.”
“It may not defend us against that creature, but it may keep off its undead minions. You may not want a gun, but I’m taking one—unless you have something more effective? Now, you said a large blast would destroy the creature. Would a grenade do, or do we need something bigger?”
“A grenade may work at extremely close range, but it won’t destroy the Rutan—only disable it for a time. Once it is disabled it must be incinerated.”
“We’ll use the artillery guns. They’ve enough ammo to blow this trench to the stars.”
“That will do nicely, lead the way.”
The night was bitter. The floor of the trench had frozen so that walking was difficult without slipping and crashing into anything and the walls were falling in. Artillery still broke the night air only the cries of men no longer accompanied it. The gun fire was from the opposite side or further down the trench system.
Molly looked at her pocket-watch again. It was only 9:30 on Christmas Eve night. The morning charge seemed like a lifetime ago. In the past few hours she had nearly died, been sentenced for treason, and escaped to find every man in her trench dead, or worse.
“Hard to believe it’s almost Christmas—despite the snow—but it’s been snowing for days now. Snow has lost its charm for me.”
“We should probably stay quiet.”
“If I don’t talk I’ll go mad. Come to think of it I’m already mad. I’m following a man who claims he’s a time traveler and we’re off to kill a space alien.”
“You’re not mad, Molly. If you need to talk, will you tell me how you got here?”
“You do realize, Doctor, that it’s only a matter of time before the German’s realize this trench is empty—and then we’re going to be in the middle of an invasion.”
He stepped over an errant crate of loose bullets. “You’re quite cheerful.”
“The trenches have taught me realism.”
“The trenches have taught you cynicism.”
He pulled her down behind a small twist in the trench wall. A green glow lit the ice in front of them.
“The trench winds around from the other side. We can reach the artillery from there.”
“Good idea.” [/center]