Name That Madman

Recently, I was en route to Idare with The Collector for a survey of the local libations. At the request of Chancellor Phaon, we side-tracked to New Gallifrey to bring him aboard.

As part of his new position, he wants to meet with all House Cardinals for a fairly standard update on the goings on of the various Houses, and, obviously, Patrex, being newly reinstated, and his own House, was high on his list of priorities.

His request to meet aboard Bifrost, however, was, I must admit, unusual. Phaon's usual protocol is to have people come to his office in the Citadel.

Even still, as unusual a request as this was, being the Cardinal of a recently recognized Chapter, I felt it best not to... rock the boat, so to speak.

And so, I materialized Bifrost on New Gallifrey and invited the Chancellor on board.

The usual small talk and pleasantries were exchanged, as expected. I did notice, however, he seemed distracted.

I've known Phaon for a long time and I think I have a fair grasp on his usual demeanor and behaviours. Never in all my years have I seen him not sharply aware of all that was around him, but this day he seemed, to use a Terran colloquialism, a little spaced out. I'm not sure that The Collector noticed, but I was acutely aware of the situation.

After the expected discussion of the current state of Patrex, he surprised me a bit by asking about Bifrost. Specifically about her "passengers", by which, I understood him to mean the Narwhals.

I should, at this time, explain the Narwhals, I suppose.

The "Narwhals" is my euphemism for a the denizens of the pocket universe which has had its entire existence collapsed into a single instant and has been physically contained within Bifrost to serve as a power source. I don't remember how this happened, as it occurred prior to my entry into SL-space, but it DID happen.

The sentient life-forms within this compressed universe (dubbed "Mad-space" by some) have latched themselves to my mind via the telepathic circuits in Bifrost, creating a constant din in my head.

I digress.

Phaon, after having asked me about them, proceeded to inform me that he sensed Bifrost had something to say.I found this statement somewhat odd, as, even though Bifrost and I have had our issues in the past, she has rarely (so far as I know) hidden information from me.

He asked me to bring him to the Eye of Madness. Normally, I keep the location of the Eye a secret as it takes a very powerful psychic mind in order to commune with it and not have a psychotic break. Phaon has one of the most power telepathic minds I've encountered, however, so I showed him to the Eye.

He spent several minutes communing with it (from experience. I can tell you that, to him, it likely felt like centuries) and then asked me to close it.

It seems that Bifrost, by way of the Eye (or, perhaps, it's vice versa) showed the Chancellor my destiny is NOT to become Tethseram (a great relief to me). It also revealed to him, my name.

Though neither Phaon nor myself know if this is my proper name or one tied to my destiny.

It seems my actual name is Akbalrajulbindarkowaritalsahib.

This is, however, far too much of a mouthful.

And so, I will continue to go by the name I've always known: The Madman.

Cute Cat Videos

I suppose it's time I discuss my oldest companion and, frankly, dearest confidant, Bast.

Several people have met Bast in the past (rhyming aside), and few have ever understood who or what she is. To an extent, that works to my advantage.

When I first awoke in Bifrost, I wasn't actually alone. In fact, I didn't just spontaneously wake up. I was awoken by the feeling of the rough tongue of a domestic feline on my nose.

When I first opened my eyes, I was looking face to face with a Gallifreyan cat. She was orange tabby, incredibly friendly to me, purring and in every describable way, perfectly mundane (yes, I restrained myself from making the cliched "purr" pun).

I named this little ball of fluff "Bast" after the Goddess of an ancient Terran religion and proceeded to accept her as my friend and companion.

The life of a Time Lord is a gift. I won't lie about it. Our life-spans are nigh infinite assuming we don't take stupid risks. Most life forms in the universe would happily wage intergalactic war to achieve this. There is, however, a downside.

You see, the life-span of a Time Lord is measured in tens to hundreds of millennia. The life-spans of other creatures is... considerably shorter.

And the life-span of a Gallifreyan feline is, roughly, 15-17 years. To a Time Lord, this is the merest blink of an eye.

Bast was my only companion in my early travels. She was a companion I refused to let go of.

And, so, I began my work.

While I am known for a few things within New Gallifreyan society, my true specialty is genetics and nano-genetics. I am very adept and the manipulation of almost any genetic code as well as augmenting that code with specially designed and programmed nano-genes.

I won't pretend my work was pretty. Or even remotely "ethical" by usual standards.

I separated her cerebral and nervous systems from her body. I re coded the genes in her body to bring it to a previous evolutionary state, that of a sabre-toothed cat; extremely large and powerful. Simultaneously, I re coded her brain to a far advanced level, granting her an intellect equal to that of a Terran adult, manipulating latent genes to allow her a telepathic link to me. I recombined the parts and infused her with some specially programmed nano-genes allowing an extremely accellerated healing.

Now Bast considers me almost a father-figure. She's extremely protective of me and will, if necessary, lay down her life to keep me safe. Given her advanced healing abilities, this would take an almost Herculean effort on someone's part. I am, in fact, fairly sure it would take total atomisation to kill her.

And whoever acheived this had best HOPE they obliterated me at the same time.

I should note an unexpected side-effect of my work on Bast.

Recently, though with some difficulty, she has begun to display the ability to speak.

After Party and What's in a Name?

And so, last night, the High Council was busy. Rather than rehash the whole affair, I'll touch on the highlights as it involves Patrex.

First, we were officially recognized and reinstated as voting members of the High Council, with me sitting as Councilor. This is good as the members of Patrex finally have proper representation within the Council (and my proper representation, I simply mean a vote. Having me, personally, serve as their representative is... well, I suppose I'll reserve judgement, since their vote to have me serve was unanimous. It appears they have faith in me, regardless of my past future)

Phaon stepped down as Lord President. I'm still irritated I did not see this coming, but, not being omniscient, I suppose surprises are bound to happen on rare occasions.

He officially named his successor.

Deimos.

Former Coordinator of the Celestial Intervention Agency.

This fact concerns some members of Patrex, and, I would imagine, some others within our society.To an extent, I can understand their trepidation, however, even given his... clandestine former position, I know Deimos can be trusted to further Time Lord society as he sees to be correct (though, as with Phaon, he's likely not entirely right with what path the society should take. At least now, I have the vote to help shape our future.)

Kylie also stepped down as Chancellor, being replaced by both appointment and unanimous vote by Phaon. Well, at least the old man was able to enjoy retirement long enough to have a pint.

One thing that directly effects me, however, was Phaon's final order issued me as Lord President.

You see, my identity has been simply The Madman for as long as I can remember. The loss of memories prior to my arrival in SL-space is something I've come to grips with.

Phaon, however, bid me to receive a proper name.

Given my inability to remember even the vaguest moments of my existence in N-space, knowing what my name is, is just not going to happen. And so, I will need to be named anew.

I will be spending some time communing with the Eye of Madness to determine what my proper name is/will be/should be.

Do Not Drink and Vworp

Madman's Note: I can neither confirm nor deny the account related in the following report submitted by The Collector.

Incident at Vanishing Point – January 1st, we think.

I am fond of the New Year celebrations on Earth. It seems that the vast majority of humans set aside or outright forgets all of their problems on December 31st and party like maniacs to usher in the New Year. These parties are quite a bit of fun. Of course, this part of the story you know, since you were with us when House Patrexe descended upon an Earth Night Club.

The part of the story that you do not know, because you had other business to attend to (seriously, who attends to business on New Year’s Eve?) has several parts.

In our defense, we had no idea that they would escape.

So, Madman, after you left for business, I had an idea. Initially, I was only joking, but, then it turned into an actual thing. If you will recall earlier in the evening you had been talking about Tribbles. After whatever number drink I had finished, honestly by then counting didn’t really matter and Ned can pilot himself if need be, I said to Ambassador Morr, “We should Tee Pee Vanishing point!” She thought it a fantastic idea and we began to plan.

I’d like to remind you, that at this point, Morr was the sober one.

I stumbled back to Ned, with Morr following close behind to take a picture and laugh in the event I fell on my ass. I steadfastly remained upright, as I know how much you dislike seeing us on page six of the New Gallifrey Gazette.

As the doors closed on Ned, I had a better idea. Tribbles! And I knew precisely where to get one or six trillion, really, it’s not hard to find them. I thought one would do nicely. So, I picked up the container with one snow white tribble and to Vanishing Point we went.

This is the point where I forgot something…well, important.

I honestly, since this cannot be repeated often enough, did not think they would escape.

I should go back a few days to explain. I received a message from Dolpar Kethenick on Srukelan stating that he had some cargo that was in need of secure transport to any planet but Srukelan. He explained that they’d been overrun by amorous Amazon Zombies. I know what you’re thinking, how in the name of all that is salty did Amazon Zombies get to Srukelan all the way from Phenelax? I asked the same thing when I arrived and the only response I received from Dolpar was a shrug and a look of pure guilt.

Fortunately for Dolpar and then entire male population of Srukelan, I had the perfect bait for amorous Amazon Zombies. Years ago, I stumbled upon a hapless human that had been trapped in a crystal prison. I’ve spent time, off and on, trying to find a way to get him out. He’s quite handsome, but likely insane after being trapped all these years in Crystal. So I wheeled him out of Ned and used him as bait for the Zombies.  It took a couple of days, but we finally corralled all of the Zombies into my holding area.

I forgot they were in there.

Honestly, I really did not think they would escape.

So, Ambassador Morr and I headed to your office with the Tribble and a healthy variety of adult beverages.

We were drinking and watching the Tribble bounce around your office like a kitten hopped up on caffeine pills and catnip when we heard a clawing at the door.

At this point, I learned something new. If you leave amorous Amazon Zombies alone with a tentacle beast, they can and will procreate.

A thing, the likes of which I have never seen on any planet in any time, with tentacles for hands, a humanoid body and a face comprised solely of a mouth that would frighten even the most sadistic dentist opened the door and took our Absinthe.

This is the point, where I remembered that I was carrying Zombies around in Ned.

I really, REALLY did not think that they would escape.

I bolted from your office and ran back to Ned. Dismay is…well, not really strong enough to describe my reaction to what I found. Chr’Goth was smoking a cigarette, there were three amorous Amazon Zombies and roughly fifty full grown offspring milling about the holding area. The other eighty-five zombies and however many offspring were nowhere to be found.

We went back to Vanishing Point to conduct a full search and round up our escapees.

This is what we found. 

How they found the bar, how they got the human male in there, where they found the Moose Head are all mysteries to us.  

We think that maybe some sterilization of the vending areas would be a good idea. 

I don’t know if these guys were with us, but they seemed to be having a good time. 

After we found this...we gave up and headed back to your office to drink.

This is when we discovered that Tribbles should never, ever be left unattended. 

There were…several more than when we left, but LOOK AT THEM, they were having so much fun and they were so adorable so we just had to let them play!

Morr and I continued to work through the assortment of alcohol related products as the Zombies, Zombie Offspring, Tribbles and Funky Skeletons got down and dirty. Honestly, sir, it was a party you would have appreciated.

Several hours later, things got a little fuzzy. 

I don’t really know what happened after that, and Morr won’t talk. All I really know for sure is that I woke up to this…

Not to worry, I’ve arranged for a containment unit to round up all of the strays.

A few lessons were learned, chief among them is never to forget you’re carrying amorous Amazon Zombies in your TARDIS.

One additional thing or minor concern, I do seem to be short one juvenile tentacle monster. If you happen to hear odd noises coming from the pipes on Vanishing point, please let me know.

I will be running from any retribution you feel the need to mete out.

Respectfully,

The Collector