Showing results for "Chris Ryan" in Fantasy

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Were the Egyptian gods fanciful imaginings of primitive people or something more? Some believe they once walked the Earth as mortals, that they warred and loved just as any of their worshippers. This is their story--the tale of how Isis gained the power of shaping. How mighty Osiris died and lived again. How they discovered the fabled First Ark, a structure older than man. It is the tale of us all, the story that shaped our race from cave dwellers into the people we are today.

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.

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.

Necrotis' endgame is upon us. The sector is starving. Frit is dead. The Krox have left the Confederacy, and the rest of it is falling apart. Time is fast running out to stop Necrotis, who will win through simple attrition if we do nothing. The time has come to ride to war. Xal'Aran is training me to be the deadliest captain to ever command the Word of Xal and will be flying alongside me to hunt down Necrotis. Nor do we ride alone. Voria and her Spellship will guide us into the storm to hunt our enemy once and for all.

Four centuries ago, the Stewards rained ash on the heartland of an empire for a year and a day, murdering the Elentian Empire and orphaning the Hasran Imperium where I was born. The stories say the ash drains magic and that any who venture into the Ashlands will need to contend with the armies of unliving swimming beneath the ash—unliving as old as the Mad Imperator Jhordil himself.

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. Aran faces a choice. Halt his war mage training and, in the process, give up clues to his past, or abandon Voria. Aran sacrifices everything to follow Voria on a suicidal quest into the one place where even gods fear to tread.

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

The sun has wiped out nearly all technology in the largest coronal mass ejection in history. In its wake comes the zombie apocalypse. The dead have risen, and they are hungry. Yet there are greater threats than the walking dead. The deathless have returned, slumbering in the same Arks that carried the werewolves into the present. If they are not stopped they will build a massive necropolis in the remains of San Francisco, and the entire continent will pay the price. Only the few werewolves created before the apocalypse stand between humanity and annihilation.

An empire entombed under ash. Four centuries ago, the Stewards decreed that the Elentian Imperium must be punished. For a year and a day, ash rained from the sky forming what is now known as the Ashlands. As a new member of the Temple of Celeste, you are now privy to the truth. Our diviners have scried the infamous lich's final moments. If you dare witness the memory, you will find it transcribed within. The Crown of Command is a short novella set in the Shattered Gods universe.

Nefarius has risen. She is implacable. Unstoppable. God after god is fallen and consumed, and each time the terrible dragon-goddess grows stronger. Nebiat has stolen the Spellship, depriving Voria of its strength when she needs it most. But Nebiat's schemes have never been tested by someone like Talifax, and she will finally discover she's not as clever as she believes.