Excalibur Sword Tattoo Novels & Stories

The sword and pen still hover above me, steady, waiting. In the polished blade’s reflection, I catch my own face—ruined with tears, bruised, broken—but my eyes are still green. Not corrupted. Not black. Still me. But something on my back itches, burns, reshapes. I feel it before I see it—a tattoo forming, alive with magic, stretching across my shoulders and down my spine. A phoenix. Wings spread wide, head thrown back, flames curling around its body like a crown. Ashes to flame. Darkness to light.

Caleb's eyes flashed like a sword's age while his aura intensified with a rumble. He glanced at his black greatsword which was inscribed with the words Dharmic Cutter! Sil Crawford had given it to him when he left Calebton, and Sil told him to wield it only after the Guardian couldn't be wielded anymore. And just before, Shar's Rain of Swords shattered the Guardian, so he took out the Dharmic Cutter! "This really suits me, Elder Sil… You really know me best!" Caleb growled under his breath and slashed forward!

‘What’s wrong with me this time? ‘Yeah right, besides that how that thing pulled me here? Anyway, I need to take it down soon. That devil must be really strong’ ’Okay, I will do this quickly so I can return to Aahva and go home.’ Abelard’s mainstay sword comes out of its scabbard. The scabbard is pitch black without any decoration, the hilt was carved with a unique horizontal engraving shaped like interlocking letters. There is a red jewel between the hilt of the sword and the sword. At the edges of the blade, it is very sharp and bluish silver, while the middle is gold and, when exposed to the moonlight, can emit a sparkling light.

I admire the tattoo taking up most of his back, it's similar to Storms. It's a pair of evil snake eyes in red, with a green and yellow snake wrapped around the pistol facing the red eyes of the evil snake. The words The Satan Sniper’s Motorcycle Club are written under the pistol. But what has me at a standstill is the shading that's done around the entire picture, it's a light shading but unmistakable. It's wings, Angel wings. I don't say anything. I want to but I'm tongue tied. I scan his back and stop at the blue bruises around his sides.

The silver-gold tattoos on his chest and arms flared with the intensity of a dying sun, generating a localized, spatial-warping shield of pure, kinetic chaos. "Keep typing, Queen," Caleb smirked over his shoulder, his molten gold eyes burning with the thrill of defying another god. "I'll hold the sky." Scarlett didn't look up. Her fingers danced across the glowing, holographic terminal she had forced the ancient console to project. Her cosmic gold eyes were locked onto the cascading lines of the orbital weapon's telemetry data. "Just give me ten seconds, King of the North," Scarlett murmured, her starlight brush weaving intricate lines of Origin Code into the terminal.

I leave the top area blank for his face, and go about polishing the body to perfection. His torso is a bed of firm muscles. Hard and hot. The kind you want to sit on and hump on till you have your wetness dripping into the tiny pouch of his belly button. A soft sigh escapes my lips and I press my legs together, unable to not feel. My pencil continues mapping him out, down to his sword tattoo. The same one my little fingers burn with the aching need to trace it. It's engraved in his skin like a brand seared into flesh.

Luxander questioned as Januel moved closer to him to see what he was talking about. “Ah, those marks? She got them from being-“ “Not those marks, silly”. Luxander snarled at him pointing to the scorpion tattoo on her back. “I meant, This” “Oh”.Januel said observing the tattoo. “It looks like the one Lord Gabriel has”

Marcus said. I lifted my head and looked at the bike again through tears. Now that I could see past the shock, I noticed the rest. The new paint was deep black with a subtle shimmer that only showed when the light hit it just right. Along the side of the tank, worked into the design so delicately I almost missed it, was a dagger. Behind it, a crown. Around both, the fine lines of a compass, woven together in the exact shape of our tattoo. My hand pressed against my chest.

I whisper more towards myself. The tattoo is of no ordinary design. The intricate details almost seem inhumanly made. Swirls of dusty-grey storm clouds surround a midnight-blue sword. They begin at the handles and spiral throughout the golden blade. Behind the sword lays black and blue tip wings. Each feather tip is like a tempestuous addiction. The closer I come, I want to touch it. Visions of the wings wrapping around me, never allowing me to escape, consume my thoughts. I look up at Raquel and shiver, not understanding how a tattoo could be so powerful.

Some in memory of the lives I was forced to take and others to remind me why I was here, why I was so dark and hollow inside. Two tattoos held more meaning than the rest, though. The first is the crest for the Bloodstone pack. It sat just above my heart. Two wolves howled at the moon on opposite sides of a sword that sunk between a crown and shield—roses growing around the tip of the blade.