Résultats de "Daniel Arenson" dans Toutes les catégories

Earth burns. We call them the scum. They came from deep space. Creatures of claws and endless malice, they ravage the world. As the war flares, as cities crumble, Private Marco Emery and his platoon blast into space. They won one battle on Earth. Their next battle must be fought in the darkness. The scum will not rest until the last human is dead. Marco and his friends must defeat them. They must win. Or Earth will fall.

On a dead world orbiting a black hole, shadows awaken. Some call them ghosts. Others believe them mere figments of the imagination. Yet for the scientists stranded on this rocky outpost, the evil haunting their halls is all too real.

Requiem burns. Her marble columns lie shattered. Queen Solina's army sweeps across the land, searching to kill every last dragon. Among the ruins, Requiem's dragons plan a desperate attack. To survive, they must strike Solina at the heart of her desert empire. Yet as Requiem rallies, Solina raises her cruelest champions yet. The nephilim, the spawn of demons and their mortal brides, have languished underground for epochs. Giants of rotted flesh, razor fangs, and clawed wings, they crave to crush the world that imprisoned them.

Requiem, an ancient land whose people can become dragons, lies smoldering. After burning Requiem's halls and forests, the cruel Queen Solina retreats into her desert kingdom; there she plans her second assault. Among the dunes, Solina wakes an ancient, buried evil: a horde to slaughter every last dragon. The wyverns rise from the desert, beasts of iron scales, leathern wings, and claws like swords. Myriads swarm. From their maws spews acid to eat through flesh, stone, and steel

The people of Requiem, an ancient kingdom, can grow wings and scales, breathe fire, and take flight as dragons. Their hearts are noble, their wisdom great, their kingdom a land of beauty and peace. This peace will soon burn. From the south, a fire rises. Birds of flame take flight. The phoenixes soar, beasts of heat and wrath, large as dragons and cruel as wildfire. Their purpose is one: destroy the land of dragons.

The Alien Hunters are galactic pest controllers, not an army. Their spaceship is old and clunky. They specialize in crushing the odd space bug, not a fleet of vicious machines. They're a rolled-up newspaper when the cosmos needs an A-bomb. But they're fast, they're brave, and they're just foolhardy enough to charge right into battle. As the robots spread across the galaxy, slaying all in their path, the Alien Hunters fly out to meet them. The war between life and machine begins.

War has ravaged the world. Cities lie crumbled. Forests smolder. The crows feast. In the ruins, Requiem's last dragons lick their wounds and mourn a death among them. But they will not have long to grieve. From the ashes, a new enemy arises, one more horrible than any before.

The nightshades cover the land. Demons of smoke and shadow, they fear no sword or arrow. They suck the souls from all who live, like a glutton sucking marrow from bones. The world falls under their darkness. But the nightshades crave more than random ruin. The souls of mere humans will not sate them. They seek dragons. Requiem's last dragons, a mere scattering of survivors, have fought off men and griffins. But how can they fight the nightshades, creatures they cannot cut or burn?

The skelkrins. Predators from deep space. Creatures of claws, fangs, and unending malice. They swarm across the galaxy, slaying all in their path. Planets burn in their wake. And now they're heading to Earth. Raphael "Riff" Starfire commands the Alien Hunters, a group of scruffy mercenaries. Galactic pest controllers, they mostly handle small critters - aliens that clog up your engine pipes, gnaw on your hull, or burrow through your silos. Riff and his crew have never faced anything like the skelkrins before.

Long ago stood the kingdom of Requiem, a land of men who could grow wings and scales, breathe fire, and take flight as dragons. Requiem ruled the sky. But Dies Irae, a tyrant leading an army of griffins, hunted Requiem's people, burned their forests, and shattered their temples. Requiem fell. This ancient land now lies in ruin, its halls crumbled, its cries silenced, its skeletons littering the burned earth.

Our world has fallen still. One half lies drenched in eternal daylight, the other cloaked in endless night. Our people are divided, some living under the sun, the others hidden in shadow. All is light or darkness. All is the sun or the moon. All but me. My father was born in the never-ending sunlight of the West. My mother is a daughter of darkness. I am split in two. Like the moth of our forests, one wing white and the other black, I am torn.

Requiem. A kingdom forged in flame and blood. A kingdom for those who can grow wings, blow fire, and take to the sky as dragons. After a long war, Requiem is founded and her columns rise. Yet Requiem will never know peace so long as Raem, the cruel Demon King, still lurks in his underground realm. Forever he plagues the dragons of Requiem, sending enemies to burn their forests and topple their halls.

From fire and blood, the kingdom of Requiem rises. It is a home for the lost, the exiled, the hunted - those they call weredragons. In their new kingdom, they gather - men and women who can grow wings, breathe fire, and take flight as dragons.

Weredragons, men call them. Monsters. Cursed ones. People who can turn into beastly reptiles. In an ancient world just rising from darkness, they are everywhere. Everywhere their curse is the same and everywhere, they are hunted. They hide in forests and caves, dispersed. Many are alone, unaware that others exist. They are shunned, afraid, dying...until a group of these lost souls binds together and stands tall. Together they will forge a new tribe, a home for their kind. A dawn of dragon rises. The nation of Requiem is born.

The sun no longer rises. Evening no longer falls. In the lands of endless sunlight, we fear the darkness, we forge swords, we march to war. In the shadows of eternal night, we hide, we pray, we die. Soldiers of sunlight and children of darkness - we were once one. We were torn apart. We must be one again.

We are in darkness. We are alone. They came from the lands of light. They came with torches, with lanterns, with the banners of the sun. The children of endless day-they came to banish the darkness. And they came to kill. We are the children of never-ending night. We are the dwellers of shadow. In the light of our enemy, we are dying. We were born in darkness. We must cast out the light. This is our story.

The cruel Cadigus family, usurpers of the throne, rule with an iron fist. The Resistance, a band of desperate rebels, lies smashed and scattered. Hope fades. Some say it is utterly lost. Bloodied, the Resistance hides in distant lands. Most of its fighters lie dead. One of its leaders, captured in battle, suffers torture in the dungeons of Cadigus. The last few resistors muster. Rising as dragons, lighting the sky with fire, they fly to their last stand - an attack on the capital itself.

Requiem, an ancient kingdom whose people can become dragons, is tearing apart. The Cadigus family, usurpers of the throne, muster their greatest army yet. The Resistance, a small band of rebels, seeks new allies and new hope. For years, these two forces have fought in shadowy forests, forgotten ruins, and dark alleys. Now they fly to open war. The kingdom bleeds. The sky rains fire. The crows feast. Heir to the fallen dynasty, Rune was thrust into the uprising. He bears the torch of Requiem, a birthright of blood and fire.

The people of Requiem, an ancient kingdom, can grow wings and scales, breathe fire, and take flight as dragons. For years, Requiem's holy stars have blessed the kingdom with light and magic. But now a darkness falls. General Cadigus, traitor to the crown, has captured the throne. Bloodthirsty and cruel, he rules with an iron fist. He crushes his own people under his heel. He burns all foreign lands. The noble kingdom of Requiem fades; a dark empire rises.

They say the world used to turn. They say that night would follow day in an endless dance. They say that dawn rose, dusk fell, and we worshiped both sun and stars.That was a long time ago.My people are the fortunate. We live in daylight, blessed in the warmth of the sun. Yet across the line, the others lurk in eternal night, afraid... and alone in the dark.I was born in the light. I was sent into darkness. This is my story.