Backhand Blade Build Novels & Stories

I picked up Bago's kampilan from the ground. It was a good blade. Old iron with a slight curve at the tip, the clan markings etched into the flat of the blade in a pattern I did not recognize, the bone handle worn smooth from years of use. Too long for my current build — I was thirteen and not finished growing. But the weight was right for what I needed to learn, and the scripture had been asking me for weeks to start training with a weapon beyond the discharge techniques alone. I tucked it under my arm.

i cursed under my breath. The next thing I saw was one of the blade flying towards me with a chain attached to its handle.Then time slowed to a snails pace. While the blade was flying towards me at slow motion i took some seconds to acess the blade.The blade was pure black in colour and it had uneven edges with the middle part of the blade having some indiscernible inscriptions sparkling orange color sparks.The chains on the handle of the blade seem to be connected to his wrist like Spiderman's web.And i don't know how he did that.I side stepped the blade only to find the other flying towards where i was.It was at this point that i knew that it wasn't just some child's play.This guy was real

Then I grabbed my sheath for my waist and inserted my seven inch parkerized blade. “Holy Moon Goddess! You look like you are going to war.” Rory squealed. I laughed at her energy. I look over at Aiden who is looking at me with some emotion I cannot name. The last thing I grab is my Kukri Machete. It’s eight inches long and completely black. There is only a thin silver lining along the edge. It’s great for combat, but I am going to slice through some of the targets. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Nodding his head, Bladesmith opened his mouth, "Since you got bones, you can leave 'em with me and I'll make you some claws and other weapons out of them if you have no plans on using them yourself." Kirou removed most of the bones from his inventory and passed them over to Bladesmith before speaking, "You can have those to work with. I need to hold on to a few for a personal project." After speaking, Kirou got back to hammering. This time, he was creating ammo for the gunblade tonfas. Unlike the ones he made before, this time he was making specialized rounds to add to the mix, along with a few other items. Looking at the bones, Bladesmith could only release a helpless sigh.

We just passed the 12 weeks mark. “Rissa and Gabe will help you practice and get used to it.” I just nodded and pulled the knife from its sheath. It was beautiful in its own deadly way. I didn’t know shit about knives, but I was sure you can kill pretty easily with a blade like this. “The blade is a high density silver alloy, so don’t cut yourself,” Gabriel chimed in. “I won’t.” I gave him an offended look as I put the blade back and closed the box on it.

I pressed against her back and moved her hand to one of my favorite blades. “This is a Poshland RAM-21. The spiral blade is painful because of the spiral wound it creates and definitely makes it much bloodier. They struggle to heal, and if they do somehow manage to heal, they will be left with serious damage from the muscles and nerves,” I said softly into her ear. Brynn tilted her head, carefully running her thumb along the dull part of the blade. She grabbed it and placed it on the table beside us. Then I moved her hand to another one. There was something incredibly hot about this right here, and I was certain that she could feel my rising lust just like I was feeling hers.

I said looking off into the distance by the end, the horrific scene of these huge blades flying at me playing back like a movie reel. “I still don’t understand what happened, I was stood off to the side of the training grounds and was learning how to properly catch the blade when it’s flying at your face. It was all going great until multiple knives began to fly at me. I don’t know if you’re familiar with the claw spiked blades but what makes them so dangerous, is the razor-sharp claw like edge which when is sliced or thrown at a person, it seems to dig into the skin and when it spins to exit, rips layers of their flesh off. Now, I had been catching them with ease, but when they all were bei

Considerably more than himself. "W... what can I do you for, Father?" the words rumbled out of the older man. Valerik reached behind him to the back of his black cassock, now faded to brown from the torment of the weather it had come to experience over the years. He found the opening with practiced ease. He drew from it a blade as wide as his palm and the length of his hand if placed thrice upon itself from tip to wrist. The blade had a certain curve to it like a scimitar's, but its curve was less pronounced. Where the thickness of a scimitar's blade was thin, it's blade was slightly thicker but its edge no less sharp.

"I'll be right here. If it goes wrong, I'll step in before anyone gets hurt. But I don't think it will." I took the wooden blade offered to me, my palms already damp despite the cold morning air, and settled into the stance Silas had drilled into me over eight months at the cabin, weight balanced, blade angled low, eyes moving between all three opponents instead of fixing on any single one. Bram gave me a small, reassuring nod before the drill began, the kind of gesture that told me he, at least, expected me to hold my own.

Marco nodded and stepped back into the hallway, closing the door behind him. I stripped out of my training clothes and pulled on black jeans, a dark long-sleeved shirt, and boots with reinforced toes. Then I opened the hidden panel in the back of my closet and surveyed my collection. Blades. Always blades. I strapped a knife to my right thigh, another to my left ankle. Two more went into sheaths at the small of my back, hidden beneath my shirt. A small dagger slipped into my boot, and finally, I secured my favorite blade—a seven-inch Italian stiletto with a bone handle—to my forearm beneath a leather cuff.