Grimmsnarl 소설 & 이야기

ALEXANDER My father and sister were both pretty fucked-up, but, damn, Blake was sick. Because we had to make do with what was available in the casino, which wasn’t much, Blake had a bunch of his warriors holding the members of the Bois Sombre Pack down while he tortured them. They were both fully naked after being forced into their human forms. Chef’s knives were brought in from the kitchen, and Blake tested each one of them out on the men’s torsos until he figured out which one was the sharpest, their ensuing screams widening his smile, his eyes gleaming.

Maeron burst into the chamber like a shadow breaking through light, the deep swirl of his robe trailing behind him as the chaotic energy still lingered in the air like a storm’s aftermath. His sharp eyes scanned the ruined space—runes scorched into silence, ritual markings smeared with streaks of blood and magic. The scent of burning herbs hung thick, mixed with the iron tinge of silver and sweat. At the center of it all, a sight he never anticipated: Solmyra, collapsed against the stone, her body twitching, her youthful face now gone, the skin sunken and brittle, her hands clawing at the floor like a desperate creature.

Eva Fenrir— The Primordial Wolf, Sköll— The Sun Hunter, Hati— The Moon Hunter, Fenris Graymane— Tribal Elder: Keeper of the Lore, Thiess the Sentinel— Heroic Defender, Remnar Monteal—Tragic Werewolf. My index finger paused, looming over the name. Remnar Monteal. Could Monteal mean the same Monteal I know? The names were carved into the deep-mahogany page of a weighted book I had struggled to open initially.

"We've been expecting you." "You know me?" "Everyone knows you." The goblin turned, revealing a face that was all angles and avarice. "The human who ate the Maw. The heir who came back from the dead. The man who brought an army of wolves to Manhattan." He smiled, showing teeth that had been filed to points. "You're the most interesting thing to happen to this city in decades." "I'm flattered." "You should be. Interesting things get killed quickly around here." The goblin stepped forward, extending a hand that was slightly too long. "I am Grimshaw. Senior Partner of the Commerce Guild. And you, Mr. Sterling, have something we want."

A giant gold hoop hung from his right ear, and a thick beard covered his jaw. Cassian pursed his lips. The two old geezers were dressed pretty shabbily. With a grim voice, Griffin said, "The old hag is Pomona Grimm, the Witch of South Daire, and the old geezer beside her is Jorm Fangler, the Serpent King." Cassian exhaled, relieved that the two of them hadn't gone to Rivershire. "Didn't you say that Jorm had a snake? Where is it?" Cassian asked.

she said. “So for starters if they ask you if you think Grim would make a good Alpha what would you say” I shrugged as I tried to force the lie out of my mouth “I would say no. I don't think he would make a good Alpha” “See that is where you are wrong. That would not arouse their sympathy. Instead, you would say. Grim is a hybrid and arguably the most powerful member of our pack but that does not make him a leader. He is nicknamed Heart Eater and the Hybrid Beast for a reason. He is someone who can't control his anger. How would he control a whole pack? He is a beast and is meant to be in the woods where he belongs not be our Alpha. Do I make myself clear?” She asked.

The witches closed in, their laughter echoing like a chorus of nightmares. Something inside Aqua snapped. A surge of dark energy, unfamiliar and terrifying, welled up within her. She felt her pendant grow hot against her skin, the clear crystal turning black as smoke. The air around her crackled with raw power as she turned back towards the attackers, her fear morphing into a blinding rage.

He lifted me off the floor with both hands on my neck, squeezing hard. "Grimsby!" The dude in a nicely tailored shirt warily called out. He was one of Hornsgate's commanders, I remembered he was at Darkmoon the day this nightmare began. "I'm not afraid of killing this goddamn runt!" Grimsby spat, "She is fucking lucky to be with a child." He hurled me to the floor, "If it wasn't a detestable thing before the goddess to kill a wolf with a pup I would have ended your pathetic life this second fuck the Westerners!"

"Hoho… I'm actually surprised there's a challenge." Cram was grinning as he looked at the black-clad man. "Thank you, Mr. Gorm. But be careful—those two are strong." "Hmph." Scarless Gorm snorted. "They're just brats—how incompetent is your family that I, Scarless Gorm, the eighteenth Earthrank, have to put up with the likes of them?" "Hmm… Scarless Gorm?" Hans was actually surprised. "The one who mastered the twelve forms of Tamarine Kicks?"

"Lumpyhead Lumpyface Stickgirp. Have a care, Black Horn, he'll hit you with his stick." "A man must be ashamed of the company he keeps, Cellie," the handsome one said. "This man has the honor to be Jaben H'wan, once of the Free City of Black Horn. Would that he were home. This man's ill-bred companions in captivity are named Rorge"—he waved his tankard at the noseless man—"and Biter." Biter hissed at her again, displaying a mouthful of yellowed teeth filed into points. "A man must have some name, is that not so? Biter cannot speak and Biter cannot write, yet his teeth are very sharp, so a man calls him Biter and he smiles. Are you charmed?"