The Biomancer Chronicles: Chapter 2

I awoke and found myself laying upon a table where I knew I hadn’t passed out. Strangely, I didn’t seem to be anywhere near as dead as I should have been. A thick, sterile doctor smell pervaded the room. You know the one – gauze, bandages, antiseptic, ointments.

Across from me, in front of a workbench, a blob slowly came into focus. It’s a man, I think. Yeah, definitely a man, older – much older than me, white smock, white hair, glasses. OK I must be in a hospital, or some kind of

“Lab, Ark. Yes, you’re in a lab.” The blob never looked up from his work as he spoke. Of course, a lab.

All right, never mind. It’s just a dream. Or maybe I’m dead? There’s no way he read my mind. Or knew my name.

The blob came into full focus as it moved towards me. “And no, you are not dead. Nor are you dreaming.”

He needed to really needed to knock that shit off.

He looked me over. “How are you feeling?”

I wiggled my arms and legs and found that I was strapped to the table by my wrists and ankles. How very terrific. “I’m feeling like I’m having a very bad day.” I lifted my head and nodded at the straps cutting into my wrists to illustrate my point. “And that it’s about to get worse.”

He grabbed the end of the leather strap on my left wrist and jerked it tight. I winced. “Well, I’ve got good news for you.” He did the same for the right strap. They cut into my skin and I started to bleed. He saw this and smiled. “How your day ends will be completely up to you.”

I tried to use some power to heal my wrists, but none came. I let my head fall back against the table. “I thought you might say something like that.”

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The Biomancer Chronicles: Chapter 1

Increasingly I’ve found myself frequenting the intersection of ‘These Things Never Go As Planned’ and ‘Try Not To Shit Myself While Escaping From Things Which Seek To Kill, Eat or Inhabit Me’, and today was proving to be no exception.

With the live payload nestled in the leather rucksack on my back, I raced down the narrow stone hallway careful to give a long step where my tripwire was set. The only thing standing between me and sweet, sweet freedom happened to be a set of thick wooden cellar doors, but that was about to change.

I barreled straight at them with no intention of stopping, lifted my forearm to shield my eyes, and pressed the button on the crude detonator in my hand. The doors blew upward and outward into the busy nighttime street in a brilliant plume of smoke and splinters.

Contrary to popular belief, there was sometimes a vicious beauty to be found in my line of work.

With no time to marvel at my handiwork, I began to put distance between myself and the murderous mob of steel, arrows and vitriol not far behind me. Thankfully, they should soon be rushing headlong into my bundle of trip-wirey hugs and kisses.

The smell of split wood lingered in the smoky, blasted doorway as I maneuvered through it. Two heavily armored sentries had been stationed on the other side of them. I leapt over the shredded remains of one and channeled a hint of power into my legs. They became a blur beneath me as I raced forward, but they were nowhere near fast enough to outpace the danger which parted the detritus in my wake and closed in on me. Read more of this post

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