Excalibur Sword Tattoo Novels & Stories

"If Sam had trouble with Julian, and her mother was there, the fight was definitely uneven. How Sam even managed to get out in the shape she did is beyond me." "I know, I was thinking the same." I looked down at my wrist staring down the tattoo, looking over the intricacies of the lines and whorls, along with how the detailed the wings were in the middle of the sword, held together by a chain. A tattoo which now was covered in a smear of blood. "I could use some help. Even out the scales." I smiled. Her brown eyes brightened up when she heard that. "It can also help me by knocking off some rust."

she said, shaking her head. “Only because I love you,” I laughed. “Well, I am here today because I need some information.” “Oh?” I nodded and pulled out my cell phone. Scouring through my gallery, I found the image of Ivy’s tattoo, the one I assumed could be her pack sigil and showed it to her. “This tattoo, what can you tell me about this?” I asked. Ruby peered into the screen, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. “Seems like a pack sigil. Definitely a warrior clan with that sword there,” she said.

Esmeray held her forearm up, examining the intricate tattoo that adorned her skin. The tattoo depicted a majestic wolf, its eyes fierce and determined, surrounded by swirling patterns that seemed to dance with a life of their own. The lines were bold and precise, giving the impression of strength and resilience. “This tattoo is so unique,” Esmeray remarked, tracing her fingers over the contours of the design. “I’ve always felt a connection to it, but I never knew why.”

Even my friend, Embyr, has a crest on her chest, fresher than the others, not yet tainted by the darkness of the curse. Some of the horsemen grow bold, pulling out their own swords as they begin to approach the man they once called king. But they are no match for Excalibur, or for Arthur himself. His sword, moving with him as if it has always been a part of his hand, begins to glow hotter, its light shifting to a pure white as waves of energy shoot from the blade in a blinding array. Some of the horsemen raise shields and blades in defensive stances, but under the power of this holy sword their shields shatter like glass, leaving a trail of obsidian shards that dissolve like black ice, melti

version of his outfit, he wears a black tank top with the Crownsguard's insignia in gray. He has a small arm sleeve over his left wrist, and wears black shoes with red soles. He has amber eyes and a long scar over his left eye. He has a large tattoo of a bird of prey that covers his entire back and extends down his arms. The full tattoo is visible with the rugged attire from his pack. The tattoo is for male line of the Amicitia, and is the credential of the King's Shield rather than a family crest, the family members getting their tattoo when they become one of the shield.

“A red tattoo depicting a wolf, an axe and a sword?” Roman looked at her, furrowing his brows. “Yes. How did you know that?” “That’s because I’ve seen him before.”

Or I did not care that much to ask about it. “This is very unusual. I wonder if Tatiana knows anything about this type of tattoo. Or whatever this is.” His fingers move to the mark he put on me—a mark of love and commitment. “It is almost healed. Same as mine.” I look at it—it is placed next to the Crown of Fire. Suddenly, I realize something. “Wasn’t it supposed to be on the other shoulder?” “It’s the left one in Avalon.” “Strange.” Caleb is about to tell me about what happened to him after he was taken by the feral rogue when something strange makes us stare at each other. Something that I did not expect. I never thought it would be possible. Not for me, at least.

Slowly, she rolled back the sleeve of her outfit. This time, her voice sounded far steadier. “The people who are truly loyal to the Devereux family...” Her eyes lowered toward the tattoo marked on her arm. A sword encircled by a massive dragon, the intricate design carved in stunning detail around the hilt. She revealed it clearly for everyone to see. “...would never forget their own oath.” Not a single person spoke. Then slowly, the old man who had challenged her earlier lowered his head first. One person followed.

"Not everyone looking for me is as careless as Julian Vane. There are people out there who don't understand the concept of 'surrender.'" He approached me, and even though he walked with a slight limp, his presence was still overwhelming. He stopped in front of the stove, and the light from the fire illuminated the tattoos on his back once more. I was mesmerized by one in particular on his left shoulder blade: an ancient shield intertwined with thorns and an iron crown. It didn't look like the design of a common tattoo parlor; it had the symmetry of an official seal, of a coat of arms that demanded respect.

The fiery burn lingered in my throat. "Nothing's wrong with being a gentleman, but pretending to be one just to impress women doesn't make you one." I smirked, taking another swig of whiskey. I surveyed his outfit, taking in every detail. He wore a vivid red shirt left open to showcase a muscular chest inked with a roaring lion whose fiery orange mane seemed to reach beyond his skin. Leonardo. Lion-hearted. That tattoo made perfect sense. A golden cross lay nestled atop the lion's mane, glinting in the light like a beacon of faith. It was clear that Leonardo wore his heart on his sleeve. His was a tattooed visual representation of his inner fire.