Showing results by author "Chris Fox" in All Categories

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 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.

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.

Necrotis has raised an armada to make our sector tremble. Hundreds of warships have begun to overwhelm the Confederacy, and we don't have nearly enough magic or ships to defend every world. Our only real hope is resurrecting the Vagrant Fleet. We have the Spellship, and our demon allies control the Earthmother's Bulwark. I'm the captain of the Word of Xal, our most powerful offensive ship in the fleet. We're strong, but Necrotis is stronger, and the gap is growing.

Join us, or die and join anyway. I hate necromancers. They're sneaky, and underhanded, and...damned effective. My father's ghost is going to be reshaped into an assassin sent to kill my mother unless I dance for Necrotis, an unliving goddess and ruler of the Maker's Wrath. A storm rages across the void, with winds upwards of 2,000 kilometers a second in some places, the Catalyst known as Sanctuary. Necrotis wants me to fly inside, find a city that predates the Great Cycle, and find a way inside when no one ever has before.

Mankind's outer colonies are disappearing. Without warning. Without a trace. Fleet command chalks the attacks up to pirates, but Captain Dryker of the UFC Johnston isn't buying it. Defying command, he leads his misfit crew into hostile territory in search of answers. They encounter a technologically superior foe unlike anything humanity has ever seen, one bent on the destruction of all sentient life. After 26,000 years the mythical Void Wraith have returned to begin the next Eradication.

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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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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 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.

Our world is tumbling into the sun. The quakes have leveled cities. Soon the continents themselves will break apart. The ships are gone. There's no way off. But I'm not giving up. I'm a Relic Hunter...an archaeologist with a gun, and I have a plan. Our people arrived on Kemet thousands of years ago in the wake of a terrible space battle. The Great Ships are still up there, ancient derelict hulks powered by a combination of technology and magic, created by gods we no longer remember or understand. If I can get one of those ships active, maybe I can save myself.

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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It’s the 22nd century. The galaxy has opened up to humanity as a hyperactive beehive of stargates and new technologies, and we suddenly find ourselves in a vast playground of different races, environments, and cultures. There’s just one catch: We are pretty much at the bottom of the food chain, and there’s only one way for humanity to move up - by becoming mercenaries. In every mercenary’s life, though, there comes a time when things go wrong and even the best laid plans go awry.

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