Arvak's Skull Novels & Stories

she asked. I nodded. “It looked like a carvera. I had only read about them. I had never encountered one in real life. The real ones look different from the ones in sketches.” “Yes, because it was a mutated carvera that Raven had been working on for months. Out of hundreds of the mutated varieties, only one of such carvera survived. So I hope you can imagine how important it was for Raven, considering how much time, resources and probably emotions he had invested in it.”

]: [Crude Crystal Hand-axe] +1 attack. +1 dexterity. [Skeletor has learned Crafting lv 1!] "Phew, it was tiring to deal with you, Skelly, really tiring…" he sighed and rubbed his face a couple of times. "I'm going to call Kevin. You continue doing hand-axes, ok?" The skeleton nodded, and David smiled at him, it was a pain in the ass, but the undead was growing on him. A couple of seconds later, a screen appeared in front of him. The image of a husky with purple eyes in the middle of a city was visible in it.

Marcus flared his nose as the smell of dry blood hit his nose, he spared Reagan a glance as they both exchanged looks before a deadly smile curled up his lips. Entering into a small cavity shaped in skull form, he nods his head as he slowly glances around. A huge cranium is carved on the wall, it is so huge that if not mentally strong it can send a dangerous chill down the spine, a throne decorated with silvers was used in designing it with a vast mirror hanging on the wall beside the shaped skull. The place seems scary and dangerous, it irks evil but none of it frightened Marcus or Reagan. "Where is she?" He asked all of a sudden startling Ariana after some hours of silence.

"Zack, if this hunk of scrap metal doesn't hold pressure, I’m going to personally make sure you’re the first thing that hits the vacuum. Does it seal or not?" Victor’s voice was a low growl, vibrating through the cramped, oil-slicked hangar. He stood beneath the massive, bulbous hull of the Iron Ark, his knuckles split and bleeding from a twelve-hour shift of manual welding. The ship was a monster—a stitched-together Frankenstein of scavenged High Human bunkers and the skeletal remains of the Air-Fortress. It smelled of scorched wiring and recycled air.

He sensed a very strange aura on the other side of this ‘end’. “Is there something fishy going on here?” Andrius tried to punch the wall of the cave. Crash! In an instant, the wall which was about a foot thick shattered into countless fragments, falling to the ground. There was indeed something else there. Andrius instinctively passed through the hole and stepped inside. As soon as he entered, he was deeply shocked. He saw a huge skull! The skull’s size far exceeded Andrius’ imagination. It was almost larger than any living creature he had ever seen. Just lying there, it was several stories tall. One could only imagine how huge its entire body was.

I walked to the far side of the room, where King Arkhavel stood with three of his men. “Go ahead.” The king said to me, I walked across the room and stepped in front of him, up close, the damage was more visible. There was a deep gash along his left ribs, it was professionally done, precise enough that it bled steadily without hitting anything vital. Both sides of his face were swollen, one eye partially closed. His knuckles were split open, seems like he fought before they got him fully bound. His eyes were still clear, that was the problem with men like Ischavor. You could damage the body all you wanted, but you could still see their souls behind there eyes.

"This is a sketch artist. I need you to describe that arcane seeker you saw." Corvina was about to claim she couldn't remember, but Aria continued, "If you say you can't recall how they look, my promises to you won't mean anything either. Take her away and lock her up." Corvina panicked. "Wait! I'll tell you. Let me think... The arcane seeker was very old." "What else?" The sketch artist had already prepared paper and pencil. "There were lots of wrinkles on his face. When you got close to him, there was this awful smell, like something rotting.

Above them, the ceiling cracked open, revealing a starless sky that pulsed like a beating heart. Nihareth lifted both arms. "Bring me the final relic." A female follower approached, cradling an ornate golden skull wreathed in thorns. She knelt and offered it forward, her hands trembling. "The Skull of Orun, taken from the old vault in the east." Nihareth took it with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He turned to the altar and placed the skull into the hollow at its center. The air turned colder instantly. The ground beneath them shook.

I already burned several lights out and Eva jumped when one blew as she passed it. A small pile of tattered rags lay against the wall in a small niche. “Don’t touch that. It’s been there a long time. We can look at it later.” Haden told the others. He didn’t want to mention the tiny, yellowed skull in the shadows of the niche. If this was a normal resort, he’d have thought it a dog’s skull. But the history of the building said otherwise. That was a child’s skull of a wolf shifter.

“Now that Hank's gone, it's rare. We don't have to lose anyone else. If there are other people around, let them know and you'll have to counterattack. And Strybjorn had Haakon Ragnar in charge. "Yeah, that's the best, that's okay." Grim Skull murmured. Ragnar started to advance, but Khel pushed him back. He noticed that the hawk's head was shaking imperceptibly. His anger slowly subsided. Kjell's words seemed to remind him of Strybjorn. He didn't lose another warrior when he became leader, especially when he killed him. He found the idea fun and relaxing. He contented himself with a crazed smile at the Grim Skull. Sven and Strybjorn tied the body to a pole and took it to Russia. Ragnard was