Warlord Titan Artwork Novels & Stories

The driver clicks to open the door and moves a bit to the sides. Dark red heavy shoes with a sharp point in the front land out of the gate on the ground. A light brown surcoat over a golden and white tunic sways out with a tall and wide man. The golden crown shines brightly on his head. Light brown skin with a darker shade of brown beards is under the green eyes.

Vane raised his crystalline scepter, slamming the base of the staff against the violet alloy floor. Deep within the central sphere, a massive, pressurized piston groaned. The thousands of dormant geometric towers across the vault began to slide open, exposing thousands of pristine, black crystalline containment pods. Inside each pod hung a fully matured obsidian titan—not the basic infantry beasts from the palace, but massive, armored vanguards with three glowing purple eyes and scythe-claws that ran the length of their entire limbs. "You destroyed the factory upstairs, little Queen," Vane laughed, a maniacal sound that rattled the obsidian pillars. "But the true army was always waiting here

Present were Lunas from powerful packs and spouses of royal officials. Oil painting appreciation was a rarefied social activity, and this chance excited them. Priscilla thought she'd finally shine, but discerning guests knew Adelaide, though uninvited, stole the spotlight. Her grace and generosity—sending gifts despite being spurned—were remarkable. Among the paintings were two plum-themed works and a war-aftermath scene. It depicted wolf soldiers at a city gate, their armor coated in wolfsbane frost. The battlefield aura made lower-rank wolves' neck hairs bristle.

The Titanium drones were not clobular guards like the machines of ashes. Warlords. They were slender, silent and lethally precise. As soon as Kael pressed, they opened the fire. Grellblauen Plasma-Salven swipe through the server forest and left the black obsidian floor where they slew, slew. “Deckung!” I cried and ripped Nova behind one of the massive, amber-coloured Light columns. The ice-cold avatar observed the chaos from his platform with a

When she opened them, she found herself in a dark world illuminated only by the soft light of distant stars and by figures on the ground. There were tens of thousands of white glowing shapes that resembled humans wielding weapons and they were fighting in an immense barren plain with a mountain at its center. The mountain was incredibly tall with paths along its sides. The paths were shining as the glowing figures were fighting on them too. On the summit of the mountain, the brightest of all the figures was sitting on a black throne. It seemed that it was looking at the massive battle below but since it had no face, Sara could not be sure of that.

There's a chance it could get deeper than I thought. But I still feel that adrenaline pumping inside me. I've never felt this way before; it's like I finally have something that's truly mine. Not my wolf, not a mate, not pack approval, but mine. Curious about what else I can try out, I browse through my recipe book again, and my gaze lands on another recipe. Titan's Drink Just hearing the name gives me chills. Promises of lasting power and strength that go beyond anything. A drink that warriors used to have before heading into battle.

Every wing is named to identify or differentiate the route. I took a turn and stopped at a large tapestry. This was my first time seeing it. It was a fine art of a Warrior. He held a sword. A long scar ran across his face, and his hair was braided into two long cornrows. I needed no one to tell me who it was. I stared at the way he held his sword, his hand firm against the steel, eyes sharp, and almost scary. His mouth is wide open in a war cry, and his body is fluid in boldness.

CHAPTER 29: THE KING'S PRACTICE. BARAKAR'S POV. Lying in bed, I stared at the ceiling. Whoever it was that made the artistic drawings on the ceiling did quite an amazing and elaborate job. The whole ceiling of my chamber was covered with historical drawings of past wars, depicting the conquest of the werewolf kind over the lands before they were brought under the leadership of the Iron Claw Pack, centuries ago. It never tired me to stare at them whenever I lay in bed.

yelled the man, and everyone’s voice died down. “Greeting’s humans. I am general Dolmi of the Coliaran empire. On this glorious day, I would like to welcome your species back to our realm. As per such a wonderful achievement, you are rewarded with a ticket to the glorious Tournament of Champions. Hosted by the Coliaran empire and is attended by millions of other species. A champion from Earth has two hours to be chosen or volunteer for the great honor of being a contender. We will provide all humans above the age of twelve with a device on which to vote. It will be transported from the ship to your wrists. We look forward to hearing from you. Good day.”

"I see why no one has been able to grasp these runic drawings. It makes me wonder whether whoever drew this was simply an ancient graffiti artist who left a bunch of worthless art on some stupid walls in a stupid wall for stupidity's sake." He sighed deeply and ran his hands through his hair, briefly holding them on the back of his sandy-colored head before lowering them to his side. Catherine sat blankly at her computer, hoping she could do something else. Ben's gaze was now roaming, searching around the old library as if the answer could be found in the old brick walls. His head came to a halt as he stared at a gigantic painting affixed to a column that rose all the way to the ceiling. A L