Showing results for "Chris Ryan" in Epic

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 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.

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.

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.

The sequel to the award-winning Weapon of Flesh, Weapon of Blood continues the story of Lad, a man crafted of magic and flesh to be the most lethal assassin the world has ever known.

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.

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.

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 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.