Hand Holding Sword Novels & Stories

From her straight long legs and straight long jet black hair to her striking brown eyes and sparkling aura, I almost forget that she was a butterfly just a few minutes ago. She has on a very short purple skirt hugging her small curves with a small top made with the same soft material. A black quiver holding purple arrows hangs over her shoulders as she holds firmly onto a black bow in her right hand, a big shiny silver sword in her left. A very beautiful warrior, almost like an artist’s masterpiece.

The swords are bronze, beneath their silver skins. I’m barely two feet from the line, and I give away one of them stepping back from Black’s slash. The howling around us becomes a gasp as his blade is motionless in the moment before he starts the backswing, and I reach out, and grab it with my bare hand.

Lily stopped circling the man before her eyes landed on his hip. "Is that a sword?" She asked him. He nodded, looking a bit embarrassed. "May I see it?" She asked with her hand already outstretched. The man looked at Jayce for confirmation. He gave a stiff nod, and the man withdrew his sword, the blade ringing against the leather scabbard. Lily's eyes grew to the size of saucers as she held the sword in her hand. Jayce felt uneasy at first as she held it, but she looked so beautiful and powerful while holding it. It turned him on more than he expected.

That was caused by holding a bow for hours everyday. I kneeled in front of her to be on eye level with her and said, "Swords are still too heavy for your hands, Adrina. You are still not permitted to use this kind of weapon. Sword wielding is equal to death, the blade of a sword is death." I released her hands and transferred my hands to her shoulders. "I let you hold a bow so you can use it to protect yourself in times of danger. You can only hold a sword if you are truly ready. For the responsibility that comes along with handling a blade against your foe."

He held them in his palms, and then pressed his palms against the blades of the Devil Saber and the Rusted Sword. As if they had sensed something, the Devil Saber and the Rusted Sword trembled slightly, making a faint sound.

’ everybody assumed impatiently. Tension of the crowd was aroused in alarm, their hearts raced with unwelcoming anticipation. Finally, a figure emerged from the huge waves as a victor, the sword of Eryndor– Eryndor, exhausted but triumphant, his Conch shell still clutched in his hand.

It lost me with amazement that it didn’t bother me, not until blood emerged from the tip of my finger. I shook my hand and wiped away my blood. It slightly stings. I blinked and saw a small figurine in front of me. It was smooth porcelain, molded with dark colors. It was a figure of Sojin’s kind. On its lap was a human being. The human’s head rested on its arms. It raised its right hand, holding a sword. It looks like he was trying to kill the human. The lines on my forehead appeared as I analyzed the symbolism of the object. I guess the sword pricked my fingers.

he spoke with a rather pleased voice. As he walked towards, he extended one hand out into the void. His long arm was heavy with muscle and bare to the shoulder, as though he had cut the sleeves off his shirt. A tattoo of a chain wrapped around his arm from wrist to shoulder, spiraling up like a snake wrapped around the trunk of a tree. Suddenly he held a gleaming sword in his outstretched hand, even though he wasn’t holding anything just a moment before. My eyes widen. I didn’t know much about swords, but this didn’t look like a very good one. It was chipped and pitted, as though he had spent years cutting wood with it.

Seolurrie informed Hunter Hale, while pointing her finger at the back of the hunters. "Sure--" "Seolurrie!" Hunter Hale and Seolurrie turned towards wgere the voice came from. Mr. Ambrose was jogging to their direction holding the crystalized short sword that flew earlier when it got threwn away by the dark magic. "You forgot this...," Mr. Ambrose handed the pair of short sword in one hand the thrusted a pair of scabbard. "... and this, you run around always holding the short swords in your hand."

She waved her right hand, sending the hair strands hurtling towards me. I vaulted backward, just as the rope vanished from my grasp. Swiftly, I drew both my hands to wield my pair of weapons – a road sabre slashing sword and a cutlass sword with a straight or slightly curved blade, sharpened to its keen edge. Memories of my childhood friend Apolo, a skilled swordsmith, flooded my mind. He had always favored this type of sword.