Résultats pour "Chris Ryan" dans Fantastique

Tech Mage (Book one) Aran awakens in chains with no memory. He’s conscripted into the Confederate Marines as a Tech Mage, given a spellrifle, then hurled into the war with the draconic Krox and their Void Wyrm masters. Void Wyrm (Book two) Major Voria stands ready to accept the cost for her actions at Marid. Stripped of command and resources, Voria must find a ship and rally a crew. Somewhere within the Umbral Depths lays a hidden world, a world that the dead god Marid intended her to find.

In the realm of Imphallion, there once was a nightmare - a living nightmare known only as the Terror of the East. Nigh invulnerable in his magical black armor and aided by unholy minions, he laid waste to all in his path on his all-consuming quest to bring order to the land. His order. Then, at what should have been his moment of triumph, his will failed. And his army fell. Taking a young noblewoman as hostage, he escaped, vanishing into darkest memory.

The magical tea has worn off. My eyes are wide open. And it’s with horror that I realize the fate of two realms rests on my shoulders after my mother’s ultimate sacrifice to trap Rubezahl in Underhill. Terrified humans clamoring for answers, whispered rumors from both Seelie and Unseelie, and a stepmother who seeks the throne for surprising reasons are the least of my troubles. Rubezahl has returned far sooner than I thought possible. I’m not ready. I can’t win this. And not only that… He has something crucial if we are to win. He’s taken something I cannot live without.

Chosen. Framed by my father’s murderer. Running from the fae courts. Fated to never touch the man who sets my blood on fire.

A pyramid predating all known cultures appears without warning. Its discovery throws into question everything we know about the origins of mankind. Inside lies incredible technology, proof of a culture far more advanced than our own. Something dark lurks within, eager to resume a war as old as mankind. When it is unleashed it heralds the end of our species’ reign.

In the realm of Imphallion, there once was a nightmare - a living nightmare known only as the Terror of the East. Nigh invulnerable in his magical black armor and aided by unholy minions, he laid waste to all in his path on his all-consuming quest to bring order to the land. His order. Then, at what should have been his moment of triumph, his will failed. And his army fell. Taking a young noblewoman as hostage, he escaped, vanishing into darkest memory.

My name is Xal, and I live in the dims - a walled prison where my people are kept by our cruel masters until we are needed to fight once more. One member of every family must answer The Call, for our blood bears the magic of a demonic god and all the terrible power that brings. We march to war against the Fomori, an unstoppable army of giants and their behemoths. If we do not, then our families are put to death. The Hasrans use us as cannon fodder and worse. They used up my father, and he never came home. Die resisting. Die fighting.

Aran awakens in chains with no memory. He’s conscripted into the Confederate Marines as a Tech Mage, given a spellrifle then hurled into the war with the draconic Krox and their Void Wyrm masters. Desperate to escape, Aran struggles to master his abilities while surviving the Krox onslaught. Fighting alongside him are a Major who will do anything to win, a Captain who will stop at nothing to see him dead, and a woman whose past is as blank as his own.

The Ganog have arrived. Their fleets are endless. Their will implacable. They cannot use magic, but that isn't stopping them from wiping out mages. Behind them lurks a worse foe, the Gorthians, those holding the Ganog's leash. They have devoured countless galaxies, harvesting them over and over to create more monstrosities.

In the late 2020s and early '30s, corporations managed to render the major governments of the world obsolete. The big corporations owned most of the territories as well as the majority of the world's wealth. While many of the old traditions were still observed in various parts of the world, the true power was with the corporations. In the late '30s, what would be known as the Corporate Wars began as larger companies initiated hostile takeovers in a whole new fashion. Employees, armed with corporate weapons, warred for dominance. On May 1st, 2067, it all ended in a nuclear fire.

I have been sentenced to death for the crime of being born; of winning the Hasran's war for them. But my death has purchased the freedom of my people, and so I go to it gladly, ready for whatever final torture they might have in mind. The Imperator has decreed that I will be sacrificed in the Great Games, a sacred ritual that will magically empower the Gateway Arena. It requires five god-souled, the reincarnations of gods, divine shards that can be fed to the Arena, and used to increase its size. It means my life has narrowed to one purpose: live.

The Krox have finally reached their end game, and the sector will never be the same. Their relentless fleet darkens the skies of New Texas, home of the fabled Ternus shipyards. Their only hope lies with their sworn allies, the Shayans. But the Shayans refuse to help. Only Aran and his company can keep their leadership alive long enough for Voria to bring reinforcements and the fabled Spellship. If they fail, the entire world burns, and Ternus morale will collapse with it. But the war is merely a smokescreen for something much more sinister.

Voria, Aran, and Nara survived their trip into the Umbral Depths. They retrieved the Talon and are now searching for the First Spellship, the key to victory in their war against the Krox. Their search leads them to Virkonna, the home of the Last Dragonflight, a world where dragons still rule. The world where Aran was born. Aran's past finally catches up with him, and he is forced to answer for killing Khalahk. The Wyrms demand he undergo a March of Honor, a brutal trek that few survive. Nara must not only accept Aran's fate but use it as a distraction to locate the First Spellship.

He’s back. Despite absolutely no requests at all, Sir Apropos of Nothing - he who was spawned from the violent assault of a tavern wench by a group of drunken knights - has returned. This time his voyages take him to the land of Rogypt, a surprisingly ancient realm where the tragic people known as the Shews labor endlessly in building pyramids for their masters. When Apropos inadvertently interferes with he who is destined to be their savior, no less than a deity reaches down and points his fickle finger upon him, informing him it is now his responsibility to liberate the people.

Things have never look so bleak. Saghir is on the run from the Avatar of Xakava, a city-sized demon that has already crippled the Spider-Mountain itself. Calmora is besieged by Totarius's endless legions, and more defenders fall daily. Li's only hope is marrying Lord Indra to seal the Celestial Mountain. She must sacrifice our future together to ensure the survival of her people. As for me? All I have to do is kill the eldest demon prince, my older and stronger brother, knowing that if he wounds me even slightly I will die. His wounds always kill.

Tattooed with magical runes to enhance his skills and suppress his emotions, Lad is raised from birth to be the most lethal assassin the world has ever known. He is the pinnacle of his master’s magical and martial arts, a true weapon of flesh, all according to plan. Until the plan goes awry. The Master is gone, and the weapon is free. And in a dangerous world, a weapon does what a weapon is made to do. Or does he? Alone for the first time, Lad’s future is now in his own hands.

They sent me into the blasted lands to die. I refused. I lived. And now...I return to the empire that discarded me. A god, rich with worship. I don't know what has become of Hasra, or the war with the Fomori. I don't know where Li is, or if her homeland is still dealing with the wyrm Khonsu. My sister and mother were freed—the reward for my blood price— but I have no idea what has become of them. It is time to go home. Time to right old wrongs, and to find the legacy left behind by my former incarnation. Three tombs remain. Once I am certain my family is safe I will seek them.

I am the reincarnation of a dark god. I cannot escape that now. The prince of demons come again. And I am hunted. The Fomori have a prophecy about my return, and have been so kind as to dispatch the Morrigan herself to slay me. She's even forging a special divine sword. Their armies of beastmen and giants march upon Hasra, and the ailing empire is in no shape to hold. They need new troops. They need us. My friends and I are being sent off to the other Catalysts we control to gain more magic so that we can resist the Fomori advance.

The war in Hasra is over. A monstrous puppet sits upon the throne. Valys has fallen, and the Praetor rots in prison while his daughter remains a public hostage. Calmora is under Khonsu's rule, the dragonflight's plaything. Worse, my aunt and the other demon princes have fostered a new religion, which is sweeping the west. Our only choice was to flee to Olivantia, where we huddle with the dreadlords, who are under assault by the Tree of Blood and its armies of consumed. Things have never looked so grim. I have no more tombs. No more miracles from friendly gods.

Abandoned by her allies, the Republic of Venice holds out as the last beacon of resistance against the hobgoblin armies. Armed with new weapons the Southern Horde drives upon the floating city by land and sea. The Northern Horde drives deep into the heart of Europa and all fall before it. The Horde is vast beyond measure. Assassin daggers lurk in every shadow. Necrotic evil seeps and infects.