You are not a good person. You never were. You will suffer for what you have done, and your loved ones will suffer with you.

Adam, the lover, the fighter. Yumei, the skeptic. And then there is Lascaux. It is the 2070s, they are young, they are full of hope. They all have their crosses to bear. And you, too, will bear a cross; yours shall be of iron. And when you hang from it, you will look down and see the world as it remains. As it has been burnt away to reveal your image.

Samus Aran, hunter of hunters, traitor to humanity, wanted dead or alive by the Federation. There are those who would aspire, if only fleetingly, to have their eyes darkened by her long shadow. Others will have their eyes darkened in a hundred other ways, their eyes cast down. Corporal Skótos looks up, and stars avert their gaze.

Before Max and Chloe reunited, before the storm, there was you. The god of time. You keep a good hold of your mind, now. It's an easy thing to lose.

Seasons. Tides. Phases of the moon. Things change. You change. I don't. - A small collection of works based on Enderal, a game built by the German studio SureAI using Bethesda Softworks' Creation Engine. This is a rough work in progress and subject to notable change. This has spoilers for the end of the game, so fair warning.

Part of you has to duck its head in the wastes, forget how to regret and forget how to feel. For those who dwelled underground, it isn't so simple. Bullet fog and shrapnel become your escape.

There are those who would have the world rise anew from the ashes, unscarred by its past mistakes. Much more commonly, there are those who would leave the world in its grave and stomp out the embers. Blood, gunsmoke, and ash make one hell of a cocktail.

He didn't know what drove him to seek out the ruins of Ostagar, to walk among the Grey Wardens, to wage bitter war against the Old Gods like a horror out of legend. But it was the exact same thing that drove him to seek her.

As with any deal, free will has a catch.

Fear is the oldest, greatest hunter. Oneshot.

Death rattles his red cage, screaming for sweet release. Alas, his warden knows nothing of this trapped soul- and how it will bring a horrific end to all that he cares for. A new protagonist in a familiar story.

Born from a subconscious wish. Punishment. That's a tall order. But the helmet gives him an extra five inches. An obsession with justice helps too.