Resultados de "Cassius Lange" en Todas las categorias

Tap the cask and mind the Lanes. No favors, no leashes. Opening Night’s epic hangover is interrupted by a shiver that runs through the Hollows. Then, just as we’re recovering, a Smiling Man tries to buy The Butt and Beam from under me. And then a bikini-clad vampire begs me for sanctuary with her angry father on her heels. So, yes. Things are busy. I’m Chris Holloway, Landlord, still the only bloke in Pant-y-Giggles and still learning the Way of the Hollows.

Silas Stone is the lead singer of Blood & Honey, a man who lives for the roar of the crowd and the heat of the stage. As the front man of a duo rock-act in the city of Chi-Tek, alongside childhood friend Ruby Martin, his magic is mostly a gimmick. A way to flash some lightning and keep the groupies coming. It’s a simple life until the portals return and monsters tear through the stadium, turning a sold-out show into a bloodbath and feeding ground. In the middle of the chaos, Silas discovers he is more than just a well-trained combat mage. He is a descendant of the Raiju.

Brew the beer and light the Hearth. No ifs, plenty of butts. I’d been looking for a way to leave my old life behind, so inheriting a battered old pub in the middle of nowhere was the perfect excuse. Flying in from America, I was keen for a chance to get my head down, lick my wounds and figure out my next steps. It turned out, though, there’s all sorts of unusual expectations of the landlord in the village of Pant-y-Giggles. From renovating the building, to learning how to brew, to embracing the Way of the Hollows, I very quickly had my hands full.

Leider haben wir keine Zeit, ihm zu Ehren ein Fest zu feiern – die ganze Welt ist verrückt geworden und wird von korumpierten Monstern bedroht. Borealis war unglaublich wütend, dass Chester sie vergessen hat und in einem Anfall von Trotz hat er unsere Welten miteinander verschmolzen. Jetzt stecken wir alle in einer bizarren und gefährlichen Höllenlandschaft fest, in der die Verderbnis aus jedem Dungeon strömt. Die Kraft, die ich gesammelt habe, reicht nicht aus, um dieser Katastrophe Herr zu werden.

Frank and his adopted family have plenty of work to do. The guests are thirsty and they want new drinks, the walls yearn for more heads...er, trophies, and his purse dreams of being just a bit fuller. Popularity is never something Frank yearned for, but the club has made him rather important to the Ashpit and its inhabitants. But not everything is roses and sunshine when Frank is invited to a meeting of notable Sankta Varathian club owners. Deals are offered, new faces promise him the world, and gold begins to flow...but as it usually goes, everything that seems to good to be true, usually is.

Frank Midnight is on a roll. He’s been making a name for himself in Sankta Varath as a shrewd businessman, merciless killer, and welcoming club owner. He’s sporting some of the meanest weapons and toughest armor in existence, and rides a deviltail mount through the city like a boss. Frank Boss as the orcs call him. Yet, the man isn’t happy. How can he with a thousand voices screaming in his head and the Quinta Empire advancing on Steelheart. Nothing can stop them, not even the might of the Three of Steel, the brutality of Castilian, or the…mildly annoyed Frank.

I am Garren Holt: Dead Trucker. Reborn Brawler. Donkey Sidekick. Harem Magnet. Real heroes never die. They just get sent somewhere else. One minute I'm hauling 600 HP of diesel fury. The next, a bear the size of a semi punches my isekai ticket and portals me into a medieval forest. Stats flood my vision. A smart-mouthed donkey bonds to my soul and won't shut up about 'delivering freedom' with his kicks.

Frank Gerber isn't happy. At all. Being a bounty hunter sucks. Even more so when it pays very little. What sucks even more is that his client decides to skip payday. A pimp dressed in a frilly pink suit. Can his day turn even worse? It can when polite conversation turns into unabashed violence, and Frank finds himself the new owner of the most rundown joint in the Ashpit. With a mounting debt, not nearly enough booze, and a single bartender in his service, he will have to do... yeah, he doesn't know what yet, but he will eventually find out. Everything can wait.

Debt-serf. Scavenger. Nobody worth remembering. In Alnda, that’s all Alaric was ever supposed to be. Something others had planned for him. But with CD, Elli, Seo Rin, and Yesabel at his side, Alaric’s building mechs, making allies, and carving a future society never wanted him to have.

Clint Rogan and his team did it. They survived the initial hardships of Terraria One and came out much stronger than anyone would have imagined. The human starting capital of Grimford had been rebuilt, new contestants had been trained to participate in the blood sport that entertained the Galaxy, and team Dread grew to legend status. A new threat emerged and overshadowed everything they had worked for. It was larger than anything they could anticipate, a threat from the very ring surrounding Hadran.

The Great Ones arrived on Earth and conquered us with little bloodshed. They collected our strongest warriors and shipped them off to a world called Hadran—a one-of-a-kind artificial planet, a cosmic gladiatorial arena where the slave races engage in blood sports for the Great Ones' entertainment. But Earth has lost the last of its real champions and now risks losing its candidate status. If that happens, it will become less than a slave colony.

Not everyone gets a second chance at life. I, however, kind of lucked into mine. Thrust into the body of a dying man, I fought to break free, made a few friends along the way, and started down the long and treacherous path of revenge.

This is the story about how I died. Not really.... I mean, I don't remember most of it, thank goodness. Long story short, I was betrayed. Some people I thought I could trust invaded my sky palace, stole my women, and enslaved my pet shadow hounds. I was destroyed, utterly. Or so they thought. Somehow, mana, the source of my previous power, brought me back. The backstabbing weasels think they are safe, barricaded in their strongholds. Here's the horrible part. They willingly sacrificed their own flesh and blood for security. And they had the nerve to call me evil?

Greystone's arcane dome shimmers under the barrage of spells. The walls are manned, and the Valtorian host has come. As we await the final battle, the forces of Tan'Malas spread their corruption through both camps. The war threatens to consume everything we've worked for and take from me all those I care about. I learned the hard way how easy it is to lose everyone and everything. I will not let that happen again. To me, my girls and my friends are more important than all of Greystone and Valtoria combined.

With alien tech enhancing his abilities and beautiful women at his side, Alaric sets his sights higher than just buying his freedom. The guilds that exploited him, the nobles who looked down on him, the system that kept him chained, they are all about to discover what happens when the underdog gains real power. Forget five-credit repairs, Alaric's about to carve out an empire of his own, one dangerous mission and passionate encounter at a time.

I wanted to be an adventurer. I ended up the pack mule for a psychopathic hammer. My name is Ash. I’m a scavenger, a blacksmith’s apprentice, and, according to the voice in my head, a "calcium-based biped with poor taste in pillows." All I wanted was to clear my family’s debt and secure a future in Dawnwatch, the frontier town guarding the rift. Maybe even become an adventurer. But when a dungeon run went wrong, I didn’t just find loot. I found the motherload. A Soul Gem worth a kingdom.

Chester, as it turns out, is actually a monster god. Unfortunately, we don’t have any time to throw festivals in his honor—the whole world has gone mad and is overflowing with corrupted monsters. His fellow Calamities, enraged that he’d forgotten them, have fused their worlds together in a fit of petty rage. Now, everyone's stuck in a bizarre and dangerous hellscape with corruption overflowing from every dungeon. The strength I’ve gathered isn’t enough.

Frank hat es endlich in die große Liga geschafft, obwohl es nicht alles so ist, wie es beworben wurde. Reiche Klubbesitzer wollen Geschäfte machen, Söldnerführer bieten verdächtige Unterstützung an, wütende Götter fordern Gehorsam, und Ork-Kriegsherren bieten gefährliche Freundschaften an. Zu viele Orks, Zwerge, Goblins, Gnome, Menschen und sogar Elfen warten darauf, in die Midnight Bounties zu kommen. Um den Klub zu vergrößern, muss Frank neues Personal finden, den Klub erweitern um mehr Platz zu schaffen, und vor allem braucht er einen weiteren Barkeeper. Aber nicht irgendeinen...

Blut bedeckt den Boden und die Wände des Midnight Bounties. Aber hey, Ragul, der Vampir-Barkeeper, wird heute Abend nicht hungern müssen! Währenddessen werden die Kopfgeldjäger und Söldner, deren Leichen, unter dem Außenklo begraben werden, an ihren Platz erinnert.Frank und sein zusammengewürfeltes Team haben alle Hände voll zu tun.

Man mag es auch göttliche Fügung nennen, aber auf wundersame Weise ist unsere alte Gruppe aus Eslant wieder vereint. Kristan und Marko waren der Schlüssel beim Kampf gegen Harkels Hellhounds in Arrdeam und jetzt stellen wir unsere vereinten Kräfte Melina zur Verfügung. Ein Mann muss zu seinem Wort stehen.