Episodic Stories

Marcus half-carried, half-dragged Lucas down the hallway deeper into the power station, desperately searching for any sign of an exit. The sizzling, bubbling mass of ooze continued its relentless pursuit, gaining ground with each passing second.

"What about the fist?" "The what?" Marcus asked.

The team burst through the tunnel entrance, slamming the heavy door shut behind them. They leaned against it, gasping for breath as the screeches and flapping of the winged creatures faded into the distance.

The team headed out from the hangar, navigating the dimly lit corridors towards the glass tunnel that connected the outpost to the main city. The silence was eerie, with no signs of life or activity anywhere.

Something big was planned, he knew.  Was it true that the Duke was a heretic?  The city held two churches, large structures dedicated to the God Annis. The true God, the one that the priests spoke of.  Everything else, the priest told him, was demon worship.

“I’ll kill you when I find you, you little bastard!” Petro Marok sat in the shadows of his alley hiding place, nursing his bruised hand and sobbing. He was low to the ground, hidden behind the butcher’s shop, tucked out of sight and forgotten.

Gregory was modestly relieved the next morning when it became clear that his new captors were actually intending for him to be treated as a guest, though one lacking total freedom. They didn’t force him to travel with them, but they also didn’t offer him a chance to leave.

When he first heard the sound, he passed it off as wind rustling through the trees. It was like a soft whooshing in the air above him, and he only asserted importance to it when he heard cries from off the right side of camp.

Gregory awoke tied down on a wooden surface, unable to move. Waves of agony rippled through his body, and it felt as though someone had jammed a hot poker into his stomach. His memory started flooding back, and he realized how close to the truth that was.