By Kevin J. Anderson

Ebook 1 of the Gamearth Trilogy Gamearth: It was once alleged to be simply one other Sunday evening myth role-playing online game for David, Tyrone, Scott, and Melanie. yet after years of taking part in, the sport had develop into so genuine that every one their creations—humans, sorcerers, dragons, ogres, panther-folk, cyclops—now had existences in their personal. And whilst the 4 outdoor avid gamers choose to finish their video game, the characters contained in the international of Gamearth—warriors, students, and the few last wielders of magic—band jointly to maintain their land from vanishing. Now they need to embark on a determined quest for his or her personal magic—magic that could twist the foundations sufficient to save lots of all of them from the evil that the gamers created to wreck their whole global.

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Something seemed to be calling out to her. Melanie ran her fingertip over one of the smooth faces of the twenty-sided. She hoped she hadn't used up her luck for the evening. She wished the characters themselves could help in the fight ¯ if only they knew what the stakes were. She wanted to warn them somehow. "The rules work both ways, you know. " Melanie forced a smile, trying to look self-assured and a little wicked. "I'll beat you, David. " *2* Attack on the Stronghold "Gamearth has been built around a precise set of Rules.

He drank from his glass but continued to look at the map. "If we don't quit, I'm going to destroy Gamearth. I'll have my turn and I can set things in motion. There won't be anything left to play in. " "You've got to follow the rules," Scott said. "I'm going to. But I'll unleash something so horrible upon this world that nothing can stop it. Your characters can try all they want. It won't work. " Melanie stiffened. Scott and Tyrone seemed to be enjoying the friction. Melanie thought of the Game's characters, looked at their settlements, their lands, and felt a pang inside her.

Dusty brown butterflies flitted across the ground. Wide-boled cypress trees dangled branches like fingers and thrust knobby knees upward as if trying to keep their balance in the muck. Huge pitcher plants, large enough to swallow a man, gaped with wide and colorful mouths, exuding a sweet aroma that made Vailret feel dizzy. Curious, he peered down the gullet of one plant and saw partially digested birds and a dead frog. He stumbled away, breathing deeply to clear his head. " Vailret heaved in a lungful of the thick air.

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