Hundreds of intermeshed triangles emanated from Veyja’s hands, then locked with those of her fellow shieldmages to form a glowing wall. The first wave of scalewolves crashed into the barrier. Blood and spittle sprayed into the air. Veyja winced at the impact, but the wall held firm.Read it now
Tag - Zachary Holbrook
The bartender offered a glass of whiskey, but Kronzar turned it down. He didn’t have the coin to pay for a drink, even if he could look at the stuff without memories of flames searing his mind. Flames, and the screams of one he was supposed to protect.
“So… if you don’t drink, what’re you doing in a bar?”
Gerard hadn’t intended the end of the world it to be so chaotic.
He hurdled an overturned cart and dashed down the cobblestone street. All around him, screaming civilians scattered, desperate for a place to hide. Fleeing was futile. The governor had placed the city on lockdown after the first shadowspawn appeared.
At Havok, we love stories and the people who write them. What better way to celebrate both than by hearing from our talented authors on what sparked the idea of their stories? It’s like peering into the mind of genius. (You know, that would make for an interesting story…) Without further ado, here is thisRead it now
I creep down the ancient stone hallway, barely containing my anticipation. Months of tracking down clues, solving riddles and dodging hamster attacks are finally bearing fruit. Beyond the door at the end of the hallway lies the Donut of Time, last breakfast artifact I must recover before I can challenge the Hamsters of Doom and stop them from destroying humanity.Read it now
The booming of the tribunal’s drums rivals even that of the cannons firing outside the city walls. That the High Council would go to the trouble of putting on a public trial even while besieged testifies to their displeasure. I don’t think Azer, the judge, has cracked a smile since the war started, but today his face is grim as death.Read it now
This close to a master bloodfencer, the crude piece of metal in my earlobe burned like hell. I itched to take it out, but it was all that guaranteed my sanity.
Sweat slicked the grip of my hydropistol as I watched Lord Dreadsower, the bloodsucking, self-proclaimed deity of this town, swoop into the alleyway to meet my partner.
Though I was eager to rush into a burning building once, now I sit on the sidelines, watching friends risk their lives to quench the flames, knowing they will hate me if they discover the real reason I’m in this wheelchair.
Bill stumbles out of the building with a pale-faced boy in his arms.
The beat of war drums drives any notion of rest from my bones. I gird on my legendary sword, Jimmy Bob, and stride out of my tent to give my troops an inspiring speech before the battle. Across the torchlit river, the enemy army lurks, human troops intermixed with monstrous daemons summoned from the underworld.Read it now