Cowboy Skeleton Novels & Stories

he replied as they moved forward, Jason waved his blades to clear the mist, they got closer to the metal, carefully they treaded along, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched, as they almost got to it, he felt something crunch under his foot, Jason looked down as they jumped back in fear, it was an arm, a dried, bony, decayed arm, that's when he knew what the metal was, it was a sword, rusted and covered in earth, he carefully stretched his sword at the metal and cleared the mist there, sorrena gasped, A full skeleton lay on the floor, all signs of flesh were gone, it wore an helmet with a kind of sigil, a rising sun, "The dawn riders" sorrena murmured,

9 units each made up of 10 skeleton warriors; the units possessed a closed phalanx formation using the square shields that each skeleton warrior possessed. Behind the phalanx of Skeleton Warriors were 2 Skeleton Archer formations, each formation consisted of two columns of 5 Skeleton Archers each. On each of the flanks of the formation were 5 skeletal horsemen, which mounted on skeleton steeds, each of these skeletal horsemen were only armed with large pikes. In the rear, just behind the skeleton archers, 5 armored figures stood out from the rest of the undead.

Besides, he was pretty funny. Corbin was a tall lean guy with copper-colored skin, black hair, and dark brown eyes. He had your typical Wyoming accent and some ordinary cowboy bad habits like tobacco use. He was nice and would help you out if you needed it, but there wasn’t really anything special about him, other than his ability to ride.

The lines started to become more polished as the intelligence of the beasts increased until they became beautiful and majestic. The one that stuck out the most for David was the painting of a skeleton. It had 12 blood-red wings coming from its back, two pairs of horns grew on its head, and a red heart was glowing on its chest. It was pointing at the sky, and its flaming eyes looked upwards. Surrounding him were kneeling figures, some were tall, others were short, some were alive, some were ghosts. But all of them respectfully bowed to the existence that the skeleton was signaling. Skeletor looked with interest at the painting and tried to touch it with his bony fingers, but a hand stopped hi

Makai ran over quickly, and had the same reaction! "Who the hell are you? Why did you tackel me?" the wolf looked terrified. "Ni-Ko. I'm sorry, Rixa told me you'd be here, but" Damien stood, humiliated. Helping the wolf he hired back on it's feet, Damien bowed, and looked up. He had never seen this wolf in his life. "Who is this?" Makai asked. "A new wolf from Lunari Pack. Makai, Damien, meet Skai, my mate." She pulled back her hood to reveal long, fire red hair, and large orange eyes that were mesmerizing to look into for too long.

Declan stands motionless by the floor-to-ceiling window, the neon glow of the city bleeding across the hardwood like liquid gold, painting his silhouette in flickering light. His shirt hangs loose, the fabric clinging to the damp heat of his skin, sleeves pushed up to reveal the corded muscle of his forearms. The faintest sheen of sweat glistens along his collarbone, catching the light as his chest rises and falls with controlled restraint. His jaw is set, a muscle ticking beneath the stubble, his shoulders taut with something raw and unspoken. I can see the pulse hammering at the base of his throat, the way his fingers flex at his sides, as if fighting the urge to reach for me.

My wounds were stinging badly and I sobbed on the grass where he had left me. I could see he was mad. Really mad and he wanted to vent his anger on some unfortunate person who just happened to be me. He dumped a bag close to my head and I craned my neck to see what he was doing. In the bag, he produced items that made me cringe. A leather whip, a bow and a quiver full of arrows, a gun, a catapult, rope, duct tape and bullets. Don't forget his trusted knife.

Avery notice her interest. The cowboy was young, not more than a year or two past her own age, but he had a carefree confidence about him that Emma immediately envied. His hair was dark, tied back with a rawhide thong, and dusky beard-stubble shadowed the tanned planes of his cheeks. His eyes were a faded sagebrush green, crinkled at the corners from squinting into the sunset, making him look even older.

Goldie hit the ground, the oozing stump of his left leg cut off at the knee, once fluffy tail now docked. "You fucking animal!" He'd shifted back, blood loss weakening him without the influence of a full moon. He looked like the type of man that would try to sell you a used mattress over Craigslist. "What kind of sick bastard loads with pure silver?" The barrel pressed against Blondielock's forehead. In all my twenty-six years of living on this earth, I had never seen the infamous Midnight Cowboy. He was smaller than I expected.