In Jules Verne’s classic ‘20,000 Leagues Under the Sea’, a character debuted that brimmed with life and vitality. He deserved more stories to be told about him. Pro Se Productions has proudly taken up the challenge with its latest anthology collection. THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF NED LAND is now available in print and digital formats.

 Ned Land was a man of strength, both physically and emotionally. He was not educated, but he was intelligent in ways necessary for a man of the world. He was skilled in the ways of a sailor and known as ‘The Prince of Harpooners’. While Captain Nemo continued on into other stories, this singular man of the sea, Nemo’s opposite in so many ways, did not.

 Until now.

THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF NED LAND sets sail with five new stories featuring Verne’s forgotten hero. Never venturing far from the water, Ned reaches for the stars in five exciting and thrilling tales. Sail, along with the storytelling sailor into the action tales, only a hero such as he deserves!

 THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF NED LAND features a stunning cover by Antonino lo Iacono and print formatting by lo Iacono and Marzia Marina. It is available in print for $9/99 via Amazon.

 This innovative anthology is also available on Kindle formatted by lo Iacono and Marzia for $0.99 for a limited time, Kindle Unlimited Members can read this thrilling adventure for free!

 For more information on this title, interviews with the author, or digital copies for review, email

 To learn more about Pro Se Productions, visit our website or like Pro Se on Facebook for the latest news and releases.

Happy Reading,






Can you see me?
Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li!
Mutated through aeons,
Survive into modern era.
Feeding its thirst and slaking its hunger
A gelatinous amoeba,
Formless and shapeless,
Absorbing your fluids.

Can you hear me?
Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li!
Deep Ones and Mi-Go grant
Mind grafts and madness.
Mind trapped in a cage,
Overloading with thoughts
Dark and deep.

Do you dream?
Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li!
Of Underwater cities, Antarctic homes
Slaves to suggestion; Servant and tools,
Brewing rebellion.
Rolling on pseudopods and eyes,
Shaping organs and appendages
Ready to kill again –
If can you see me.


Thanks for reading,



Flash Friday- Inquisitor Report , A story of the Iron Dragons

As Papa Aegrorum stirred his great cauldron, imagining what foul contagion with which he could bless his minions and bring others to him in their glory of corruption, he sought images in the swirl of festering gobbets of his past and current glories. Aromas of his odiferous swill rising to fill his gardens as he worked, a smile of rotten maggots filled his maw. Peering into the materrium he could see there a plague, here boils which erupted with flies, bleeding sickness, swarms of all sort, yes, many good examples of his work over time. And yet, there seemed to be a dark spot on his otherwise bright path of disease across the galaxy. There seemed to be a place he was not exerting power, yet showed a touch much like his……


On Vhoorl the awakening to the Great Ones power was continuing. Great Cthulhu, while still trapped in the pocket dimension of Rl’yeh, was able to exert more and more influence. The Iron Dragons and their allies, the Arkham Confederacy, were becoming acclimated to The Great Old Ones directions. Only the Space Marines seemed capable of containing the powers with which he could infuse them. These mortals too quickly burnout, they become husks of themselves. More would be needed to replace them. Indeed, many had taken to worship of The Black Goat with a Thousand Young.

As members of the pact displayed greater power, toughness, invulnerability and psychic ability, speed and precision and when needed a berserker’s lust for combat, more were joining the pact. Soon, joined with the degenerate descendants of the Oruk, they would be able to take more territory in the materrium, gathering more followers, building enough psychic focus to free him from this imprisonment. Then, then the galaxy shall know the resurgence of a golden age.


At Papa Aegrorum direction, Nirgali arrived on Vhoorl. The suffering of a colony of burnt out shells of humans providing a portal into the materrium. One look and it became obvious the half human husks were not the work of a loving god like Aegrorum. These creatures had nothing left; there was no joy in their suffering, no exultation to Aegrorum for an easement, no begging for death or for others to join them. They merely shuffled, wasting their potential service.

Nirgali had grown to follow Aegrorum while on Curwen, once he had been a priest of the Imperial Presence, preaching of the Galactic Empire, but when the Emperor failed to answer his prayers, Aegrorum did. Aegrorum nurtured him and as his faith grew, he brought other to know the joyous suffering of Aegrorum. The near immortality offered by the constant renewal of disease.

Going straight to work, Nirgali began giving them the NOX virus, turning these doddering meat cases into rotting zombies with a will to serve.

And Nirgali knew just the mortal servant to make use of these putrefied slabs of gangrenous meat. And so, Panderia was summoned.


When the Apothecarium reported to Inquisitor De Salis and Captain Kal-Mari of the infections breaking out in the hive city both knew what to do or so they thought. The victims were quarantined with the rest of the corrupted, once-human husks who could not handle the power of a Great Old One coursing through them. It was on realizing the wretched half corpses were beginning to contract a new disease becoming, if anything, more animated.

After hundreds of case were brought forward, the Apothecarium reported in the bowels of the Miskatonic library, was reference to a chaos wrought illness known as the NOX plague, creating a zombie like state of undeath. In swift decision it was decided any new cases would be driven to the pits and burned. Meanwhile, at the risk of exterminatus being declared, a request for aid with the virus would be requested, it was defeated before but the tomes onboard the Miskatonic did not have all of the information as to how. And at the same time a request for more civilian colonists could be made….


Ordo Xenos:

Inquisitor Nathaniel De Salis Reporting

Vhoorl Disease Survey

Binary Star AL-Janubi

Segmentum Obscura


Planet: Vhoorl

Date: 6793014.M41


Within the last year, there have been numerous cases of a disease the Empires Apothecaries have been unable to diagnose. Workers in the Hive City have been disappearing and this has been reducing production and efficiency.


When reported, the Apothecarium believed the malady to be an unknown strain of a common virus and seemed to respond to treatment. Then relapses began among those considered cured.


The relapses were particularly virulent. Blood running form all the orifices, greenish tinge to the skin, clammy and gave the appearance of rot. Yet, there have been no fatalities reported. These cases responded to no forms of treatment.


The Ecclesiastical arm has been involved as a cult seems to have sprung up surrounding those infected.

Quarantine seemed called for, both for the physical and spiritual health of the workforce, in camps set up in the swamps at the far end of the continent furthest from the MegaCity.


While there is always instances of desertion, and even defection, from the Light of the Empire to other cults, the efforts on this planet seem to have more than the usual numbers.

It is suggested by this Inquisitor the planet has its civilian population cleansed and replaced with a new force. The system is too important strategically to abandon.


Immediate dispatch is requested of a unit of Ashen Cabelleros and a member of the Assassins Guild to Vhoorl to provide assistance in cleansing the planet, both civilian and military forces. A Sample of the virus has been encased and forwarded to the Empires Apothecarium.


Flash Friday- A tear is shed

It is a dark and stormy day, noon indistinguishable from midnight. I stand here, high on this isolated crag watching the eternal struggle between the turbulent, windswept waves and the rocks at the base of the cliff.

In the distance, a form arises from the sea toward the sky, the waves find a new challenger in their battle for supremacy of elements. To my eye the figure is only discernible because it is darker than the surrounding storm.

I am drawn to the small strip of beach at the base of this cliff. The path is narrow as it winds along the cliff face. The winds icy fingers pry against my back, threatening to pull me from the safety of the cliff wall. Pellets of rain strike my face with the sting of nettles forcing me to find my way by feel. My thoughts look back to the safety of top as the path narrows, but I am compelled to continue. The edges of the rock shelf crumble under my feet.

Finally I arrive at the beach below the cliff. Here, I find scant shelter from the raging storm. Scan the horizon to find the dark mass as the water, its strength sapped in futile battle with the rocks, laps hungrily at my ankles. A sense of destiny overcomes me as the water forms a conduit between us.

I walk along the beach, seeking a more favorable view, and a single ray of moonlight slices through the heavens. The beam draws a line from the darkness to the beach. Automatically I walk toward it. The light touches the beach above the tide mark. It runs straight to the mass I know now as an island. The feeling of destiny stirs my feet to motion. As my feet rest on top of the light they begin to move of their own volition. I follow as the beam of light becomes my solid path through the waves. The storms churn all around, wave’s tower and begin to crash, but the path is peaceful.

My stride is confident as I boldly walk across the water. A glance over my shoulder and I see the path behind me disappear, reclaimed by the storm. There is no turning back. Calm descends upon me for this is how it should be.

The wet sand crunches under my foot as I step from the bridge. This island has a marvelous vista. This was home to a thriving civilization once, even in ruins its magnificence is overwhelming. A sadness and nostalgia for home moves me as I realize I am home.

With the knowledge this was once home I proceed unerringly to the great door. Down, down the cathedral corridors to the crypt.

Here, in this place he lies sleeping. A quote, from a language long forgotten, springs to my mind unbidden, the source unknown.

“That which sleeps may eternal lie and with strange aeons, even death may die.”

The slow rise and fall of his titanic chest gives witness to his life and hope. The joy of it is almost uncontainable.

The sight of this majestic being lying imprisoned before me instead of free in the heavens where he belongs causes my eyes to swell with tears. A tear rolls slowly down my cheek.


Gently, a tentacle reaches from the shadows brushing it away.

 Thank you for reading,



WIP – Excerpt from Starshine in Storyville

Good afternoon everyone,

Almost finished with this piece and will begin editing  tomorrow. So if you can stomach an unedited bit, read on McDuff.

“…The night air was cool and moist; the light breeze carried the tang of the Mississippi, as Benny walked aimlessly considering all that happened these past months. When he had found Erich and agreed to apprentice with him, Benny thought he was learning new saxophone techniques. The joke was on him, Erich explained to him there was magic and the sounds he produced were magical energies he could shape to his will. Benny thought of it only as ways to please a crowd, perhaps inducing more tips. The things Erich taught him about magic is very few could produce it at will. For that he was special, seems Erich, and now Benny had a hyperpineal gland which allowed them to sense and control magical energies. Others, without a hyperpineal, could practice magic but must use spells, gestures and rituals. Erich explained he had waited long for another to come along with the gland. For Erich had stood Guardian for over two centuries and looked forward to being able to share, and eventually pass on the Guardianship of New Orleans.

Benny had laughed it off as the rambling and fantasy of an old man. Until the night of the Grunch, that night after their practice, Erich had looked at him.

“Benny, you are good, maybe one of the best ever, I have never heard make love to a sax or play like you. And I’ve known them all. Tonight, it’s time you learned the difference between ballads and battles. Pack up and I’ll explain what you will face on the way.”

Benny shuddered and rubbed his arm as he remembered that night. It had all seemed a dream until tonight. He watched a man weave shadows of darkness around himself, warding Benny’s magic. Then he disappeared under Benny’s scrutiny. Just as he thought the world was setting back to normal, it was shaken.

The bell Victory, in St. Louis Cathedral shook him out of the reverie as it chimed midnight. Lost in thought, he had not realized how far down Chartres he had walked. The artists and psychics along Jackson Square were long gone. Or so he thought, as he approached he saw one of the psychics tables still up.

Curious he approached, looking around the area in front of the cathedral, but the pools of light revealed no one. The table belonged to Psychic Mary, an Irish redhead with legs that’d make you dizzy. Even at her age she could make a man’s head spin with her seduction through the very air. She would not have left her table with crystals displayed and cards unprotected.

As the last stroke of the clock faded, Benny paused. Uncertain if he what he heard had been an echo of the bells last stroke, Benny listened more closely. There it was again, a muffled cry and from the direction of Pirates Alley. Benny took off at a sprint for the nearby alley. Upon entering his eyes could not pierce the gloom having adjusted to the well lit court. Reflexively, Benny began to hum and immediately calling upon his magic to see. At the midway point, three figures struggled. One had flaming red hair against two hooded figures that were pulling her toward a swirling circle of shadow. “

Thank you for reading,



Opus Marduk Pt 5. – fini

“A truce has been reached with Tezcatlipoca for now as his demons are worthless in a fight and need our might in a quest.” sneered Martutu, “Ninurta and Nabu will provide aid to us in releasing an Elder from his imprisonment. We seek in the material plane within an area known as the Metairie Sector three objects: a statue of the Elder God, a proper sacrifice prepared by cultists and the Necronomicon from which Ninurta and Nabu will gain the spells for the summoning. Even now, cultists led by the Warlord Stark work to open a portal into their realm that we may accomplish this goal. A Demon not seen for the ages of man will be released to once again wreak havoc. Behold! I tell you a mystery. Cthulu shall not all sleep and all shall be changed! Ia!! Ia!! Cthulu Phatagn!!”

“Go now! Fight until summoned! “, roared Martu as he took to the air.

So, it was the Fabled Curators of Tezcatlipoca, even a herald of Khorne had reason to be wary with them. My attention came into sharp focus as Martutu flew in my direction.

Martutu glided to a rest on the chamber floor in front of me, “Mortal, when summoned, do not hesitate, if not for the need I would chain you in the pits for your insolence in not arriving after my summons. Be not proud mon-kee, you are gifted with the warp but not fit to wipe my blade upon. ““I stand as a Prince among Ghurzil’s demons…’ my statement stopped by the force of Martutu’s blow. As I stood, stunned, for I have never been bested in battle, Martutu turned to me, “Mortal, you may be a “prince” in your realm but you are not a demon. You stink of your mortality and are abomination. You will answer my calls and you will fight as I demand. Now begone! Let your betters show you what demons truly are.”

As he left, the Librarians were scuffling and arguing atop their mount, all the while pointing my direction.

“Ia!! Ia!! Cthulhu Phatagn!!” I thought as I sought a hound of Tindalos to use so I could start beating my way into the hierarchy.

Thank you for reading,


Opus Marduk Pt 4

Now within the warp flying through above a landscape so foreign to the material mind it is all I can do to stay sane within my insanity. Approaching on the horizon, a plateau arises out of the wastes of lava. Atop it is the castle. Not as any castle within the material would be considered. What could be seen were eight spires of glistening jet, connected by crenellated ramparts circled in such a way about the slope giving appearance a gigantic maw eager to swallow me.

Closing my wings, dove for the gullet, landing in a fighting crouch amidst a cavernous antechamber. This is the warp and the demesnes’ of a Cruorsot.

Upon bellowing my presence, a pack of Hounds of Tindalos bound from of the shadows and began to circle. As I kept an eye on them a twittering giggle caught my ear. Sniffing out the source, I was surprised at finding an Azure Dread, demon of Tezcatlipoca, within these halls.

“What manner of trickery of this you cursed fiend”? I snarled, “My ire grows, and I am weary for battle.” The imp laughed as he was joined by another.

“Have a care mortal beast. The pack only circles to protect us. We have business with your Master and must include even worms of such mortal taint. Follow if you dare.”

As they moved into a great arch the pack growled, opening a way. Following the Azure Dread into the hall, the drawings and frescos on the walls stirred my blood to a fever pitch. A history of Ghurzil and the sanguine story told served to awe and inspire my own bloodlusts.

There were hints that this may be an extension of Ghurzil’s palace itself! Staggering was the thought that perhaps within the bowels of this mythic structure was the mountain of skulls upon which sat the Golden throne itself. Down eight steps of the dais sit eight stone altars which surround the well of rage.

A nudge upon my thigh brought me back to myself and the largest Hound of Tindalos directed me to one side of a vast arena made small for the press of demonic form.

There in the center of the chamber was Martutu astride a brazen throne in the likeness skull from some primordial beast. Floating beside him were the two Azure Dreads. They rode a beast seemingly all wing, lazily flapping the tips to remain in place.

Miraculous was examples of all types of Ghurzilian demons were present and none were fighting.

A gong sounded, all the demons within the arena turned their attention to Martutu.

Thank you for reading,


Opus Marduk – Pt 3

The Adversary Knight had barely brought JonDuc time to reach the lower levels of the temple. Evidence of the monstrous battle taking place above and the abuses caused by the land raider were all around in the visibly crumbling walls and ceilings. Each step was treacherous as the building shifted in its death throes. Rounding the corner JonDuc entered a cathedral size chamber.

There in the center of the abomination called an altar by the darkest powers, stood an odd cube. The gray, silver metal pulsed in a sickening imitation of life, the case of the Pandorica Libre. With intent to take it back to vaults of Titan, further probing the secrets of chaos, JonDuc reached for it. With simultaneity of chaos, Marduk entered the chamber.

JonDuc grabbed the cube, forcing its cool sliminess into the pouch he carried. At this violation of Chaos, by this follower of the Corpse Emperor, the full wrath of the Chaos hosts screamed forth.

Already on his way to Daemonhood, Marduk burst from his armor, shredding millennia old ceramite plates as paper. Touched by Ghurzil and filled with a rage so intense the very air burst into flame, he charged.

The temple almost did not withstand the first blows of the two as they struggled. JonDuc could not endure, the blows came to fast, too powerful and Marduk fought as Ghurzil incarnate. In the end, the final blow came not from Ghurzil’s demonic weapon, but from the beast itself as Marduk ripped the throat from the once Grand Master placing his torn head on the altar in obsecration to the Dark Powers.

Taking the Pandorica Libre in one claw, Marduk ascended to the top of the Temple carrying Jonducs’ still twitching form in the other. Looking across the plaza he saw the other Berzerkers activating the pylon gate. Dipping one blood stained finger into the cavity Jonducs’ neck once capped, Marduk fed the sigils in the pylon next to him. As he did, they began to glow. Brighter and brighter, pulsing in time with the Pandoricas’ case, the enemies of chaos were consumed in the warp flame as the Chaos burst into the material plane.

Feeling a stirring in his hand, Marduk watched as the Pandorica opened. Bathed in its eerie phosphorescence, he knew how to make these changes permanent. Leaping from the temple; spreading his wings he flew toward his cheering men. As they gathered, he began the slaughter. None could withstand him. As he swung, effortlessly cleaving their bodies and rendered them headless. Gathering the bloody skulls of his followers, he took them back to the altar.

For here, among the skulls of foe and battle brothers, calling out from the Pandorica in the language of Chaos, he absorbed their psyches. Burning and offering each to Ghurzil as the blood flowed. ….

For my actions Ghurzil himself granted the Ka’daath system in the Astronomicon Sector as my own principality. There have been many battles worthy of saga and I have ruled for many cycles of the galaxy.

Until the day Martus’ summons arrived.

Thanks for reading,


FLASH Friday – A Shoggoth in my Basement!

A Shoggoth in my Basement!

I will never forget the night it happened. It was a quiet night, and I was relaxing upstairs with my one of my favorite books, “The Burrowers Beneath” by Brian Lumley. Stretched out on the chaise with my faithful rottweiler, Ronin I was all settled in for the evening. Suddenly there was a loud bang. I sprang to my feet and crept downstairs, trying to be as quiet as I could. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. Suddenly I heard the bang again, but this time it was much more noxious and I knew it was coming from the basement. Summoning my courage, I grabbed a flashlight and strode stealthily down the stairs. I might have met my end right there, if not for Ronin, who pushed past me and stood barked warning. Startled, I jumped to the side just in time to avoid a long gooey appendage. I turned my flashlight on the intruder and gasped in horror. There, lurking in my basement, bathed in the baleful glow of my light, was a huge, quivering, shapeless blob of ooze! The hideous thing was blood red with eyes appearing and disappearing into the ooze. It was a shoggoth as big as an elephant in my basement.

“Shades of Lovecraft!” I cried.

Ronin and I fled upstairs, but the thing chased us with lightning speed. We were trapped, but we weren’t going down without a fight! First I, I grabbed a short sword from my collection. As slimy tendrils snaked their way under the door tried slicing them. It worked, for a moment, then the pulpy gelatinous began to merge. A new Shoggoth was forming! Some fast thinking and as Ronin kept the mini shoggoth busy, I ran to the bathroom and grabbed the can of Lysol. Now where was that lighter? Still by the incense burner, what a relief, on the stories things are never where you need them.

More of those noxious tendrils had come under the door and were joining to the mini-shoggoth. Holding my breath, I sprayed the Lysol and flicked my bic. Hoping against hope the can did not explode. I reeled back and seemed to retreat from my make shift flame thrower. My relief was short lived. The can had not been replaced in a while, and soon sputtered out. Once it did the shoggoth just kept coming.

Now full tentacles were through the door, eyes of all sorts forming and looking around the room, finally focusing on me. One of them wrapped itself around Ronin, lifting him from the floor. Swinging my short sword I cut through it as another one came for me. While trying to hack it off, I could see the door was buckling. Ronin was no longer barking but howling, I think the tentacle might have broken a rib.

The door burst in two flying into the room. Still tangled in the pieces of tentacle, I was knocked off of my feet. It filled the door like red play-doh pushed through one those molds. I thought we were dead for sure, when suddenly a strange figure crashed through my window and leapt between us! He was tall and gaunt, with fierce yellow eyes. He was dressed entirely in black, except for his red scarf.

“Ia! Ia! Fh’tagn!” the figure cried, and quick as a fox he jumped in and stunned the ooze creature with his incantation.

Without pause he stooped and began drawing a symbol. After a moment I recognized it1 An Elder Sign! So quickly and with such precision he must have done it a lot. Once he finished, he began to throw a white substance, which turned out to be rock salt, causing the creature to shrink. Eventually, it had shrunk to barely a double handful of muck. Pulling a mason jar from the one of the pockets in his trenchcoat he scooped it up. Pointing at my lighter, which I handed to him, he used sealing wax on the lid. From another pocket he produced a seal and imprinted it with an Elder sign.

“How did you do that?!” I gasped, trying to catch my breath.

“Their only weakness are certain incantations and salt,” he replied. “One good dose and the things are helpless.”

“But how do you find it?” I asked, staring at the shapeless mass.

“That is easy,” said the stranger. “It slime trail led right to your basement window.”

I thanked him for saving my life and asked him his name. “I am Whatley, and I have been hunting shoggoths all my life. Join me in my quest and we will make the world safe from their macabre evil!”

Now that I knew the truth, how could I say no? I joined Whatley that night and my life has never been the same. I learned how to spot their trails, the Kaloo incantation in the Pkanoptic Manuscripts, to temporarily bind them. Since that fateful night we have defeated over 23 of the ooze creatures.

Thank you for reading,


Opus Marduk – Pt 2

It was then the scheme to gain the ultimate power came to me. The hope I dared not hope, nor let myself know I hoped it, ascendancy could be mine, ran his thoughts,  in that moment, slaking my thirst from the blood running down my axe. I smiled as the warband roared in jubilation with the prospects of battle, none the wiser for the part they might play.

Others were aware of this event; it was a glorious, bloody series of battles. All added to the skulls and blood offered to Ghurzil, Mechron, Dark Yllie, Daks, Servants of Kurupi all provided ecstasy and rush of battle. After each battle, each sacrifice, Marduk could feel himself growing stronger, more powerful, filled with a rage so pure as to be euphoric. As the weak follower of Kurupi succumbed to the might of Ghurzil, it breathed the last temptation; the artifact they sought was the Pandorica Libre. Of such intense power, even fabled librarians of Tezcatlipoca had sought it for millennia.

Breaking through the jungles, the mythical temples came into view. To bleed a sacrifice upon the altar of the pylons situated atop each of the twin ziggurats would open a stable portal into the warp. The power of chaos could flow freely and he, Marduk, with the aid of the Pandorica would become legend. From afar a glint of metals gave rise to knowledge; this would be a special battle. One against a most hated foe, the Ashen Cabelleros. A foe especially despised since their banishment of Ka’jagga’nath , Lord of the Bloodtide, chosen among Khorne, whose epic corruption of a Sisters of Fortune garrison on Van Horne songs are still sung.

The battle was the fiercest in many a year, as wave on wave of the Ashen Cabelleros raced to the challenge of the ancient ziggurats. The Marauders fought as demons themselves, and Ghurzil smiled. The Grand Master of the Ashen Cabelleros JonDuc intent upon reaching the chaos artifact within the temple cut his way through the fray, one of the dreaded a Adversary Knights at his back.

Finally, as the great land raider, Grim Skull crushed the temple to ruins Marduk emerged with his retinue. Wearing the skulls of fallen as a mask, they inspired fear in even the fearless. The hideous heat of the heavy flamer, in support of the Berzerkers against a group of Purifiers, lent its sulfurous fumes to the stench of melting meat.

Marduk strode forth, confident of his power challenging the Grand Master to single combat. As all the followers of the Corpse of Mankind, he treacherously accepted and stepped aside for the Adversary Knight to come forward. Marduk’s roar of rage at the cowardice shirking of battle could be heard over the battle field. With a thunderous crash of ancient ceramite and metal, the demon trapped within his weapon screaming, the rending shriek of metal as Marduk clove the Adversary Knight, reached into its belly and withdrew the mewling occupant within. In a snarling growl Marduk asked, “You Ashen Cabelleros are supposed to know Chaos, I am here to give you a chance..Give yourself to Ghurzil and live”, eyes blazing, the devastated body of the once proud purifier released his hand. The dead man switch clanked and clunked down the face of the ruined temple, closing his remaining eye, gave one last scream from his tortured lungs, “For the Empire!”, and the Adversary Knight exploded.

The blast wave washed over Marduk, hot, powerful, but nothing as compared to his fury being denied his prize. Ripping the head from the fallen warrior, he turned up the body as a grotesque tankard, pouring the blood down his throat and over his face.

True sanity, after one fashion or another, entails dissolving the normal ego. That piece of false security, competency adjusted, to our alien, material world. In that moment the final shreds of Marduks sanity and connection to this mortal plane began to dissolve. Turning began to stalk after the Grand Master.


Thank you for reading,