romance
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The Grey Monster has led to a global apocalypse. Nat and his group of friends wake to a hellscape when a bioweapons bomb drops in the Jenton orchards. Wolves crawl beneath their skin, and a genetically engineered religious cult decides they are demons worth hunting. Can they find a mad scientist in time before the…
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A gaping maw yawned at his feet. He tripped back from the gravesite as the white coffin descended the black hole. Dirt broke away from the sidewall. He slid, crashing into slimy sludge. A hollow scream of death threatened to burst his eardrums as he fought to get out of the mire. Something in the…
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There had not been as much improvement with the regiment in the past month as Fane had hoped. Running speed and shot accuracy had improved; however, many social and cultural traditions impeded progress at every turn.
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“You got a glitch?” Marjorta grabbed Fane by the shoulders to steady him.
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“Is this what you do in the evenings when I leave you here?” Fane leaned against Prince Orlov’s doorframe to watch the man hacking and slashing at the air in his Nurvo Gear.
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“You want me to believe this djinn newb has never played in a gear before? At that level?” A built half-orc woman looked the party up and down.
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Fane stood inside a massive wood-panelled hall with a high elf, an orc, and a mouse person. Tables crowded with a variety of beast people, elves, and other species sprawled across the big room. A few waved and called out to Ishan and the team.
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Fane and Ajay stood in the hallway with Zahar, Chaitan and the other bodyguards for the royal family. The King, having answered to Chaitan’s knock and noting the congregation of men waiting on their charges, closed the door in their faces, telling them that it was private business amongst the family.
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Fane shifted, his skin prickling at the heavy embroidery rubbing along his scars. He still wasn’t keen on the new clothes, though he was getting used to them. He studied himself in the mirror hung on the inside of his wardrobe. Black kurta, black churidar, black leather jutti. He had to admit, it all moved…
Chapel Orahamm 