Hitler Skin Minecraft Novels & Stories

In a secret base: Hilter Reichert sat in his dark gloomy office: he was smiling at the figures on his high tech computer screen, the US $50 billion was safely within his off shore Swiss account. Hilter was medium in build and height, with what was once used to be a purely dark hair; he had dark eyes, Hilter had a moustache that connects to a goatee that was almost covered fully with streaks of gray, he was in his late 50s: A technological genius. He frowned when he saw Nerma standing outside his office, he gestured for Nerma to enter: Nerma was his giant body guard– enforcer– lieutenant. In his early 40’s, Nerma stood at an incredible 6 foot 10 inches tall.

His eyes glowed green, They were beautiful but most certainly inhumanly green contacts. He had a beautiful white smile and his K-9 teeth were more pronounced. His black dress shirt was tucked into his black slacks. The shirt opened half way, exposing his chest. He was mixed, His dark tan skin looked smooth and shiny with sweat, as soon as he opened his mouth, it was confirmed.

Like a king marked personally by some kind of entity. His skin carried the deep golden-tan shade of someone born beneath relentless sunlight, sharply contrasting against the dark black hair falling around his face. Unlike Ael’s colder elegance, Zahir looked wild. Brutal. There was nothing soft or refined about him. Even standing still, he radiated overwhelming physical power.

And a human skull adorned his head. He wore a necklace made of human skulls too on his chest. Death and destruction were flashing in his eyes. Immediately behind him, the mighty Hunger Rider emerged, astride his black Agalariept. The body of this monster had skin stuck to the bones. His face looked like a charred human face. A whip tangled around the neck of this powerful immortal. Those who had a braver heart would have been terrified by the vision.

One head was half-destroyed, brain matter leaking out. The moment it locked onto me, eyes glowing that eerie, hungry green. It let out a snarl and lunged. I didn't flinch. Not because of the OP loot my family gave me—this time, I came armed with something better. Right before its jaws hit my throat, I whipped out my secret weapon: A mega-sized chicken drumstick. "Go! Drumstick!" I chucked it. The hellhound stopped mid-lunge, instantly shifting back to its true form—three drooling dogs barreling after the meat.

I nodded while tucking a few strands of my hair behind my ear. “Wanna go hunting?” He asked. “Hunting?” I inquired, frowning. I had never gone hunting. “Yup, today I and Luther are going hunting. It’s our favorite game. Actually, It’s in our blood.” He chuckled. “You two kill animals for fun?” “Not only do we kill animals but also skin them and eat them, darling,” Luther said. I cringed at the way he was speaking. “How could you eat wild animals?”

“They do not want to make their Queen cry.” Silas dropped a kiss to the corner of her lips before glancing back at the other two who now looked haggard. Zion’s chest was heaving under the weight of his breathing, and Gunther wiped at the blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. They still looked angry, and ready to kill, but the sight of them had her thighs clenching. Zion with his cocoa-colored skin, Gunther with his slightly red-colored skin. Both sweaty from their fight reminded her of nights spent crying out their names in pleasure.

Why wasn’t she awakening? Mortus took off his tunic, his glowing white skin littered with a few scars, but mostly tattoos of crosses and busty women. “I’ll get them covered, just for you. I’ll rip the skin from my body if that will make it better.” My arms were trying to crawl away from him, only to be pulled back to the center of the bed.

The huge guy suddenly became aggressive, taking menacing steps closer to me. When Rachael came into my mind, I had liked the idea of meeting with the so called boss. But then, the useless retarded bastard, who bore a strikingly resemblance to Hulk was trying to threaten me. He was way uglier than Hulk. He was seven feet tall, muscular with hefty beefy biceps and extremely dark skinned, like a tar.

All six feet of him, clad in dark jeans and a white button-down shirt, just fitted enough to show his muscles. He was so beautiful in a way that felt so wrong. Dangerous. Sharp-jawed, Dark-haired. His body was even more ripped than when I last saw him. Tattoos wound the part of his body that was exposed. My best friend’s older brother. My childhood tormentor. The human embodiment of every insult I'd ever swallowed. Why didn’t Leah tell me he was coming to town? His eyes flicked to my face. The mascara I’d applied so carefully. The tears I hadn’t wiped away fast enough.