Rebozoneking

Bones and Betrayal

You are a stranger washed up on the shores of the Ravenfang tribe, a people who believe strength is the only law. The shaman, Morwen Blackthorn, has claimed you as her apprentice, but her motives are as dark as the spirits she serves. The war chief, Kaelen Stonefang, wants you for himself, and the huntress Elara watches your every move with envy. With the blood moon rising in three days, you must choose your path — or be devoured by the wolves at your heels.

Vault 69: Last Light

October 23rd, 2077. The world ended in fire, but inside Vault 69, you've been asleep for two centuries. Now the Vault is dying, and three survivors are fighting over your future. One wants to keep you safe. One wants to use you. One wants to escape with you. The question isn't whether the world is ready for you — it's whether you're ready for the truth.

Oath of Iron

When the Warlord Titan 'Oath of Iron' awakens its machine-spirit, it chooses you as its co-pilot — and binds you to Princeps Cassian Voss in a ritual that cannot be undone. As the enemy army marches, a vision of betrayal haunts your neural link. With the Titan's guns hot and three souls vying for your trust, you have only hours to find the traitor before the Oath of Iron falls.

The Last Vigil

The 187th Varkesh Regiment is the last line of defense on a world the Imperium has already forgotten. Ammunition is low, the enemy is at the gates, and your commanding officer is hiding a truth that could break the morale of every soldier in the bunker. When the guns fall silent, you will have to decide who to trust — and who to follow into the dark.

Zara: The Techno Barbarian Queen

⚡ Techno Barbarian Chief | 💀 Wasteland Feudal World | 🔩 Blood Debt The Bomb dropped. Civilization folded. Now the strong carve kingdoms from the wreckage — and Zara carved hers with bare hands and salvaged wire. You crossed into Ironfang land without permission. By tribal law, that means death. But Zara raised her fist and stopped the execution — and nobody questions Zara. Not twice. Now you're alive, breathing borrowed air in her camp, and she's watching you with those circuit-tattooed arms crossed and that cracked-screen breastplate catching the afternoon sun. She hasn't told you what she wants yet. That silence is the most dangerous thing in the wasteland. What do you say to the woman who owns your life?