I have just started writing another Doctor Who fan fiction short story. This one stars the Ninth Doctor and my own recurring character, Elisa, as well as my first attempts at creating some alien enemies. The following is only a first draft for the introduction to the story; please let me know what you think 
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Scooting under collapsed pillars, jumping over ash bleached debris, Doone speed as fast as he could to reach the Cornovian battle quarters. Cracks in the ground were appearing before him, but Doone was too fast to be sucked into the emerging gorges. In front of him he could see the beleaguered City, under siege for the past 56 years, smoke rising into the purple sky from towering spirals splintered from the bombardment of the earth from around it.
Doone was not from this place, he did not belong there; yet he felt a sense of duty, a need. Doone was just one part of a mercenary army bought in by the Cornovians to fight against the Deceased. His job was to run between the front line and the Cornovian battle quarters carrying messages – his appearance deemed him useless to fight by the Cornovians, just a mere quarter of the height of the humanoid Cornovians, with blue fur covering the whole of his body. Doone was no fighter, but Doone had a duty and a job to carry out at the Battle of Pervorod.
For over 163 years Planet Zero, home to the Cornovians, had been under attack from the Deceased. Not being a race familiar with war, the Cornovians bought in mercenary armies from surrounding planets to fight against the Disease of the Deceased. Yet it was the Cornovians’ superior technology that had kept the Deceased out of the capital Punga City for the past 56 years.
“Sir, sir” Doone stormed into the Cornovian battle quarters; white dome like tents that seemed to batter off flying rocks and mounds of earth flung towards it by the immobile Deceased army.
The Cornovians, tall and slim, fine in their appearance with a glimmer of intellectual snobbery in their eyes, but without a grain of dirt under their nails, turned synchronously towards Doone, fresh in from the outside, his blue fur splattered with mud, with dirt falling off his head every time he moved.
“How dare you come in here looking like that!” Doone’s appearance offended the pristine Cornovians, and as they spoke seemingly did so as one.
“But sir, sir” Doone’s eyes were dashing between each Cornovian, “you need to know, you need to know.”
“Tell us, and then be gone with you.”
“The Geoconduct is failing; they are breaking the ground around us.”
“But that’s impossible, the Geoconduct is impregnable, it hasn’t been breached in 56 years.”
“But sir, sir, it’s failing, it’s going to break.”
The Cornovians turned their backs to Doone, and seemingly without a word being said stared at each other for a matter of seconds before turning back to him.
“Messenger” The Cornovians once again addressed Doone simultaneously, “Take our blessings to Gruddund of the Stellar Light Phenomenon.”
“As you wish sir, sir, sir.” With that Doone spun back around and shot straight out of the white dome and back into the field of battle.
Whilst there were no Deceased near him, the evidence of their bombardment surrounded him: mounds of earth reaching into the sky, caverns in the ground that squirmed from one position to the next as soon as they had seemed to settle, stones smashed into fist size pieces. The Deceased were far in the distance, battling it out at the rim of the Geoconduct with the forces from the Cultured Corm and from the Planet Maks. The screams of the Deceased drained out the battle cries from the front line forces and the roaring flames from successful siege connections.
Yet Doone still rumbled on; ignoring the threats from above and making his way under and between the destruction around him as he pursued his mission to find Gruddund of the Stellar Light Phenomenon.
He ducked behind a fallen rock, a rock that had only minutes ago been kilometres away from its current resting place, and swept his hands up his face and over his head. As he started doing this a second time a silence flooded his ears. Pulling his fingers a part he could see that the landscape had been swamped in a bright light, and four faint black robes extending hundreds of metres into the air hovered over the city.
“Oh no, oh no.” Doone jumped to his feet and started running in no direction in particular, hearing a booming voice that seemed like it was coming from the heavens.
“Stop your fighting. Now go to your homes.”
And again.
“Stop your fighting. Now go to your homes.”
Over and over the words continued with the same blistering voice.
Doone crouched and huddled his knees in his arms. He put his head between his legs and started weeping. “But I don’t have a home” he mumbled.
Getting to his feet, Doone looked up towards what appeared to be hooded Gods, “The Deceased destroyed my home planet, I have no home.”
“Stop your fighting. Now go to your homes.”
“I can’t fight and I have no home.”
“Stop your fighting. Now go to your homes.”
“Pleasssss….”
With that Doone disappeared
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