Plunderer Novels & Stories

“Long, the Sacred Dragon, guards the Eastern Column.” The next tile’s engraving depicted something that looked like a tiger crossed with a lizard. “Lan, the Haunter of the Wastes, guards the Western Column.” The next was a turtle of some kind. “Quy,” Mr. Trung whispered, “who guards the Northern Column.” The last looked like an eagle or vulture. “And Phung, the Sky Hunter, guards the Southern Column.” Mr. Trung looked up at us, face too somber for a summer morning at a community yard sale. “The object of the game, Master Kevin, is to reach enlightenment, the Gateway to Understanding. That is what a player hopes to win.”

The shadow lurked in the shrubbery, trying to stay hidden from its pursuers, laying low on the ground as its blue eyes were looking at the people—bad, dirty humans—who were trying to catch it beforehand. The sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the forest as the dried leaves were crushed underneath their boots. The poachers were turning their heads here and there, wanting to make sure that they were not missing any spot that the sable, furry wolf could not be hiding away from them. Their leader harrumphed loudly as he stomped his foot on the ground. “Anything? Anything at all?” he asked his crew—the very people that he trusted to bring the big, black wolf to his feet as he paid them to do

And there were red and stem-like lines reminiscent of the delicate petals of spider lilies pulsing and glowing at the veins around the back of her neck, her chest and down to her wrists as her body continued to be wracked with visible shudders. The werewolf–as though sensing the silver in his weapon– froze, clawed hands hovering dangerously over her face before turning to look at him, brows furrowed, as if confused. And William absolutely refused to take a step back despite knowing he couldn’t win against something like this on a fair fight if it actually came down to that, willed himself not to tremble at the sight of gore. William Veil is a monster mercenary for crying out loud; he wouldn'

Not a Grey-Walker or a Liquidator, but one of the Shop’s true enforcers, a creature twelve feet tall, draped in armor made of crushed ledgers, wielding a scythe tipped with a shard of the Void. "Elara Thorne," the Collector boomed, the sound vibrating in the floorboards. "The Owner has noted your interference. Your account is being forcibly closed." I didn't have a sword. I didn't have Kaelen's shadow-mantle. I had only the silver threads and the weight of the black pearl pulsing in my chest. "I've had enough of your notes," I snarled. I reached out, grabbing the silver threads that connected the floating buildings to the mountain. I didn't pull them; I wove them. I spun a web of silver ligh

CHAPTER 45 Camryn's POV The Class D anomaly died with a wet gurgle, my umbrella blade buried in what passed for its throat. Twenty-five credits. Barely enough for a week’s rent. I wiped the black ichor off my blade and sheathed it, looking at the corpse. This one had been a Lurker, something that hid in shadows and whispered lies until you got close enough for it to strike. Stage I Hunters died to these things regularly. I’d killed it in under two minutes.

like my brain blue-screened. Then the flood hit. Notifications exploded across my HUD like a slot machine jackpot. [SYSTEM NOTICE: Congrats! The Omniscient Core just dropped you a gift!] [Your ride, Phantom Scooter → Chronorider!] [Effect: Blows through every wall, shield, or weird cosmic lock. If you think it, you're there.] [SYSTEM NOTICE: Hidden title unlocked: The Omnigourmet!] [Effect: Every non-hostile mob auto-spawns with a "Friendly" tag.]

It’s horrifying. The first raider comes at dusk. Scavenger, probably. Desperate. He crashes through the crystallized foliage, a rusty blade in his hand, his eyes wild with hunger and fear. His web is a desperate, tangled thing. A thick, ropy bond to the woman waiting for him somewhere. A handful of thinner, fraying threads to the crew at his back. Loyalty born of shared desperation. Arthur moves to intercept, his corrupted arm humming to life. “Don’t,” I say. My voice doesn’t sound like mine. It’s flat. Calm.

Discovering that Vandokar was also considered to be the creator of the Pearl of Secrets, which was a sentient pearl of power that compelled its owner to seek out Vandokar 's hand and eye, so he entered the temples. There was a wave of undead guarding them there, but the power of a Loth -follower drow and spider were very interesting, their webs did a lot to envelop them, heading towards the pearl, after grouping them on the walls, he didn't think he needed to kill them again, or tear them to shreds.

Jenkins netted probing tendrils silent and swift, Sofia's binds weaving tight: “Clean sweep—flanks hold iron; void pulses intimate, targeting glow.” Mara distributed potions vigilant: “Resist the deep lures—links active constant; Damian watches close, legacy bolsters.” The abyss-heart loomed colossal cavern, artifacts crowning a void-throne: ancient shards pulsing the Hunger-core fierce, guardian-entities colossal and grotesque, chitin-plated maws multi-fanged and salivating, void-pupiled eyes fixating personal with booming intimate whispers: *Heirs sweet... bleed your essence, crown unbound awaits. Adapt to us, or perish in ecstasy's devour.*