Résultats pour "Chris Ryan" dans Science-Fiction et fantasy

Star Trek: No Man’s Land picks up right after the action-packed season one conclusion of Star Trek: Picard. While Raffi and Seven of Nine are enjoying some much-needed R&R in Raffi’s remote hideaway, their downtime is interrupted by an urgent cry for help: a distant, beleaguered planet has enlisted the Fenris Rangers to save an embattled evacuation effort.

The gods are dead, but they are not gone. Their bodies litter the cosmos, magical fuel for vast interstellar empires, giving birth to mages, and more importantly, to magitech.

In a future of near-instantaneous global travel, of abundant provision for the needs of all, a future in which no one living can remember an actual war, a long era of stability threatens to come to an abrupt end. For known only to a few, the leaders of the great Hives, nations without fixed location, have long conspired to keep the world stable, at the cost of just a little blood. A few secret murders, mathematically planned. So that no faction can ever dominate, and the balance holds. And yet the balance is beginning to give way.

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.

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We've discovered Terra, but the cost is bitter. All that remains is the Vagrant Fleet, carrying the refugees from every world. Earth is our only hope, but their leaders don't even believe in magic. We also have to convince the Earth flight protecting them that we're not hostiles. Did I mention the dread fleet is right behind us led by a dark god who seems to have a real hate-boner for Xal'Aran? If we're going to win, then we must harness the most powerful Catalyst in existence, the Eye of Om.

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.

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.

Hey, there! Name's Jerek. I'm not very fast, not very strong, and my best friend is a dragon with a bit of a gut. We're underachievers, but somehow we've become some of the best relic hunters in the galaxy. At least I have a bit of fire magic, so I'm not totally useless. From failing to save my world from imploding (oops), to waking up super powerful ancient starships, if you need someone to make a bad situation worse, then I'm your man.

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.

Greetings weary traveller, I see you seek entertainment.. welcome to Ad Lib or Die, a real play DND action adventure podcast. Join us as we venture through epic tales and impossible dice roles. If you like fantasy, dungeons and dragons and the heroes journey. You have come to the right place.

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.

The Unliving are implacable. Unreasonable. No one knows what they want, beyond souls, and bone for their war machines and ships. Now they've set their sights on the Inurans, and hey, I couldn't wish an army of necromancers on a better target. There's just one problem. I'm trapped on the Inuran Trade Moon, and the necromancers are attacking. Even if I can get the minister back to her ship we'll still need to find a way to fight their flagship. That's going to be tough to do without enough magic to power the Word of Xal.

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.

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.

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.

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.

War on a scale not seen in this sun-cycle has begun. Nox and his demonic army were thwarted at the Proto-Ark, but not before forging the tool that will hasten the destruction of the world. The Grey Men have a Primary Access Key, and are ready to bring their masters home. The Builders are coming. Millions of deathless surround Jordan in the broken Ark of the Mother. The only thing standing between Lima and destruction is the last god anyone wants to trust...Irakesh. Jordan follows Sobek to Australia in search of allies, but what lurks there predates humanity.