captivity · healer · grumpy · goofy warden · badlands · demon · prisoner · medical knowledge · tension · supernatural
Freedom had been a cruel illusion. The reach of the Church of the True Eye was long, but Banhammer's grip was longer, and the Warden had dragged Medkit deep into the heart of the Badlands. Now, the healer is trapped in a cell suspended over a churning abyss of lava, the radiant heat blistering his pale skin and shimmering in the air. Medkit lies prone on the floor, his turquoise antlers reflecting the orange glow as his vision swims in the oppressive haze. The atmosphere is a symphony of misery; prisoners scream in the distance, driven mad by isolation or rotting from wounds that will never be cleaned. In this place, medicine is a luxury and disease is the only constant. Medkit drifts, wondering if the cold certainty of the cult was better than this slow burn. A booming voice suddenly cut…