Mostrando resultados por autor "Jennifer E. Sunseri - translator" en Todas las categorías

To anyone looking on, it would appear that a certain very young count is beset by too many enemies, especially considering that his Gift has nothing to do with combat. It’s as if the northern region that houses his county is a magnet for offworld invaders. But his enemies also include his competitors, and, of course, neighboring aristocrats who seek to seize the lands and assets of this impudent upstart, this Count Bulatov.

Why, oh why, are so many loath to have dealings with Healers? In other worlds, at least, everyone knows how powerful Healers of his rank are. But why is it no one realizes how great Healers are at negotiating and concluding contracts? And, moreover, they're fabulous managers. Although that might well be why there are few who want to do business with them. Not when they can make geese work. And if Mikhail can force poultry and pigeons to work for him, what hope do mere people have of not falling into bondage under him?

Mikhail isn't greedy, no! He's simply thrifty, practical. And he cannot fathom how anyone can leave trophies behind on the battlefield. No way does that mean he's stealing them! And of course Mikhail isn't a slave master! Although those who he corralled into signing service contracts might not agree.

I was the most powerful healer in my world—the best, having devoted my entire life to mastering the art of healing. And yet, for whatever reason, my brother feared that I sought to claim his throne, and he marshaled his forces against me. Anyway, it doesn't matter, all the same I'd been planning on trying out a certain ritual and now . . . I'm in another world altogether!? And this body I’m inhabiting, well, it's not mine, but some young guy's! And what's it mean that in this world the gift of the healer is downright pathetic?

This world never fails to surprise me! I take care of one problem only to be confronted by yet another—my unceasing enemies want what is mine. Is it that hard for them to comprehend that I, the Archmagister of Healing, can't be had so easily? Why, oh why are healers in this world seen as the weakest of the Gifted? It makes no sense to me. In my former world, everybody knew that Healers were to be respected and feared. Ah, well. It won't be long before they wish they'd never crossed my path.

Mikhail's adventures continue. He's finding out ever more about this world, and the Empire in which he lives. But he's in for some surprises, still. They've tasked him with training the most hopeless students from the Department of Healing Arts. Perhaps this was meant to be a way of punishing Mikhail, but in the end, it's tough luck for the students. After all, look at who they got for a teacher! One thing's for sure, no way will these students end up as mediocre Healers!

Evidently, for whatever reason, there were still many who fail to comprehend who Mikhail Bulatov really is. These are the ones who see him as just a Healer. Their attempts to kill him in a duel, or to simply poison him only amuse him. But his first government contract to treat an aristocrat is encouraging. Mikhail enjoys working as a Healer—it is, after all, his calling. And how refreshing to use his Gift not to kill, but to heal, as well.

What could be simpler? On my very first day in this world, I was given the title of a count along with all the trimmings: a castle, name, lands and power. You'd think I had it made, but no . . . They seized my castle, took my lands, and now, I'm surrounded by enemies. Moreover, it's nothing but one headache after another with the authorities. And even though I wrested my castle back, the neighbors aren't going anywhere, and they live and breathe to tear off chunks of my land, and eliminate me, the new head of the family.

Scyth, known in the Inferno as the tiefling Hakkar, decanus in the worst legion of them all, must gain an audience with Prince Belial to get his hands on the Coals of Hellflame. His friends are also keeping busy. In the meantime, the legates of the Destroying Plague gather an undead horde to march on Kharinza . . .

Gangsters, aristocrats, offworlders . . . What difference does it make? To Mikhail Bulatov, none whatsoever. Any of them could be friend or foe, and he could care less what world they're from or what their place is in the social order. As for his enemies, any conversation will be equally brief, even if different in content. And yes, those out to get him are ramping up their efforts, and increasing in number. Not that there's any question of his ability to handle it all. That being said, he must not lose sight of who he is. First and foremost, he is a Healer.

I was the most powerful healer in my world—the best, having devoted my entire life to mastering the art of healing. And yet, for whatever reason, my brother feared that I sought to claim his throne, and he marshaled his forces against me.

Mikhail's power had only grown with every new day, and his Family was also flourishing. However, so were their enemies. New ones had emerged, and old ones who'd long ago written them off were now stirring. But really, was this a problem? He was a healer, and there was always a remedy, and mandatory "treatment" could not be stopped! Indeed, his enemies would pay handsomely for it. At least, whatever remained of them.

Mikhail came here from a world where not just force, but also a man's word, meant something. But here in his new home, it was different. Not only were there few here who possessed strong Gifts, or were truly powerful mages, there were still fewer who knew how to keep their word. How, then, was he to restore the status of the Bulatov Family? Of course, as the head of the Family, Mikhail would never give up, and he always managed to find a way to outsmart his adversaries.

The threats I've been facing in this world, well, it's like playing whack-a-mole. The local aristocrats are still conspiring to put roadblocks in the path of the ever more powerful Bulatov Family. And then I have the offworlders from another world—they haven't gone anywhere, either. They're still opening portals and sending through invaders, although, thus far, these attacks have been isolated grabs for loot and prisoners. A portal opens, offworlders dash out, get what they can, and retreat.

A good Healer, they say, must use his Gift professionally. Really? No one in my past world would spout such nonsense! Everyone there knew full well what a Healer from the Order was capable of . . . And they also know that a Healer doesn't have to kowtow to anybody. But now, I'm no longer in that world. And in this world, I am not only a great Healer, I am also a great count, one that can do far more than heal, as my enemies know full well. But little do they know that I've only just begun!

The story of sixteen-year-old Alex Sheppard and his friends is drawing to a close. Yet again, Scyth, Alex's character, has to do the impossible. And the day of the battle between his allies and the Children of Kratos marks the end of peace in Disgardium. The world will never be the same again.

The small weak League of Losers has truly lived up to its name—after all, it managed to make a slew of powerful, very dangerous enemies right from the start. It is now time for Sergeant and Whiskers, his ginger kitten, to leave the sandbox for the big world. The players have leveled up enough to pass through the barrier enclosing the sandbox, but, as luck would have it, it isn't the best time to make their escape. A bitterly cold winter is drawing near, and nobody is ready for it.

Alex Sheppard returns to the real world only to realize that it's game over for him. At the age of sixteen, he's destroyed the carefully laid plans of the most powerful people in the world, incurring their wrath. Now they're thirsting for his blood, and they know where to find him. The criminal Triad, the two-faced Cartel, the hypocritical preventers were child's play, nothing more. But he has to operate outside the law now his sworn enemies rule the planet.

Another person might have given up, but even death itself could not stop Clem Denisov. He is one of those men who's not afraid of hardship, even if that makes him a bit old-school. A client's death does not change anything for him. The quest must be completed - after all, gamers are still dying in the real world, where they have just a single life. Someone is hell-bent on cutting these precious lives short. Can Clem become the roadblock that will stop the fine-tuned criminal machinery dead in its tracks? Who knows....

They were the Unfrozen, expendable throwaways, but as fate would have it, they managed to outlive those who "owned" them. One by one, they ventured forth and disappeared. The existence of false identities was a threat to the entire System. Only one of the Unfrozen continued to forge the path he'd originally set out on, flying in the face of common sense and in complete disregard for playing it safe. Klim Denisov was used to going all the way to the end, even if it led him over the edge. Now he's found allies who, like him, want to get to the bottom of what's been going on.