A Flesh and Blood Fan Fiction Site

The heavy bang of a fist on a steel table shook Levo from his stupor. He had been studying the thermodynamics of the alpha engine for some time, trying to understand the peculiar timings he was seeing from his experiments. The Distinguished Teklovossen was not pleased with the latest results. Hurriedly prancing over wiring strewn about the floor and pushing some old prototypes aside, Levo joined his Master at the table. Adjusting the light overhead with the foot pedals bel

"Remember, General," came the solemn but terse voice through the sand-blasted winds, "we do not attack." "Yes, Empress. " General Fang gritted his teeth and nearly hissed the words. Of all the hells-damned Dracai that could have passed the Oath, it had to have been her. The sand was everywhere, damaging the armor he wore proudly through multiple battles. The winds laughed at his armor, finding multiple holes that daggers, swords, or axes would never pierce. How long had it

Lathra scowled menacingly at the bow she held, its sleek form glinting in the dim light of the evening. Nightaim was not just an ordinary weapon; it was a magic-infused tool, imbued with powers that could easily pierce the toughest armor but also had a reputation for unpredictability. The wood, dark as the night sky, seemed to pulse with a life of its own, and the intricate carvings along its limbs whispered of ancient enchantments. This magic-infused bow was notoriously fic

"Can't you sense it deep in your heart, Thea?" Jaspar appeared worn out and beaten. His bones ached, and he couldn't recall the hilt of the Dawnblade being so... relentless. He clutched his shoulder with gritted teeth, gazing at the young prodigy before him. Dorinthea, more than just a warrior, yet not quite more than a princess, held the Revered Blade's handle as though she were protecting it from thieves, rather than... Jaspar struck with astonishing speed, his movements a

"What I want is to stop the suffering," A soft voice whispered to the magus in front of her. Head down in reverence, Cylan could barely comprehend being in front of such a powerful wizard. A snort was her reward. "Spare me, child," came a musical melody that hid disdain behind a small veneer of loveliness, "what you really wish is only to bring suffering unto those of your choosing." A soft rustle forced Cylan to look up, startled. Verdance moved like a leaf in the breeze