Knights Templar Cross Tattoo Novels & Stories

Not him. Just. Like. Everything. Else. "Yes, Pakhan." I bow my head with reverence, and Aleksander's eyes drift down to the tattoo on my wrist, where his gaze lingers. All the men in the Knights who pass The Reaping at the age of sixteen receive the Viking Futhark rune for defense tattooed on the underside of their wrist. They then receive the Greek Sigma symbol once they're initiated into the Brotherhood. I have neither because not only should no one know of my existence and lineage, but I was supposed to die that night seventeen years ago.

Xander snarls, rejecting her explanation, too angry to see beyond it. “The Order of Three, but those that know about it call it the order.” She unzips her jacket, and her friends match her movements, moving in unison. Together, they pull their collar away from their necks, revealing a tattoo where a mate mark should sit. A triple moon is etched into the skin with black ink. The center moon has a key and arrow crossed with a paw sitting in the center, holding the components in place.

Running down his spine was a tattoo of a dagger, flanked by two cobras coiled around its blade, each poised to strike the other. The crossguard was shaped into a Trinacria—its eyes hollow and haunting, its hair a wild tangle of serpents. On its three bent legs were the words etched in a stark, gothic script: Famiglia, Orgoglioso, Patria. The ink stretched over the planes of his back like a warning—Family, Pride and Homeland. He stood up, and my suspicions were confirmed—completely naked, without a hint of shame. He slept next to me completely naked—fucking naked. But before I could even start to argue or throw some biting comment his way, something else pulled my focus—his ass.

But there was also a hint of vague savageness, characteristic of the Vikings or dark age Templars. Regarding my aim, I was not a sniper, but I was good enough to hit a target a couple of hundred meters away. "That leaves no questions. Now, take this" The knight gave me a medal. A Fenix was rising its fly into the sky as the symbol. "If things get nasty, show this to the guards, they'll let you go without a sound" "Understood" Both the knight and I went to where our mounts were. Lines of well-cared drakes filled my sight as we walked through the stables.

He scoffed, taking off his trousers, and I looked away. A wave of dread washed over me, not sure what to expect next. Fear rose in my chest as I curled my fingers into the bedspread. By the time I looked back up, he was fully undressed, but he had his back facing me. I felt a drool escape my lip as my eyes traveled over his body—broad shoulders, his muscular back adorned with a large crest tattoo, identical to his brother's, except he was larger, taking up the entire top left side of his back. The tattoo depicted a shield with two swords crossed above it. Two lions stood on their hind legs, pulling the shield from both sides. Below the shield, a banner displays the name "Dontrell." The desig

Their faces were red and trying to focus on their practice. There are even Bedros residence animals that help them to train, both as friends to carry out attacks, ambushes and also duels. Altair who stood from the top of the ravine hiding behind a tree saw their activities that night from above. The knights there were outsiders from the Rhodes region. The thing that attracted Altair to their presence was the tattoo on their right shoulder, in the shape of a coiled wolf and different colored eyes. "What's the difference from the color of the eyes?" asked Altair curiously.

His family was about to greet him when Kent walked towards the center of the arena to find a small orb made of a rare gemstone that gleaned like the dancing starlight. As he stood silently before the orb it shined a great light that blinded everyone in the arena as it carved out strange symbols of ancient origins upon the arena battlegrounds. The Templars could not make out the symbols upon the good earth as it was different from all the spells they had seen in the ancient archives.

A squat citadel with a giant, neon equal-armed cross emblazoned atop its facade. Jim was thankful not to have shared his Templar Church hopes with Sophie. A career hazard of symbologists was a tendency to extract hidden meaning from situations that had none. In this case, Jim had entirely forgotten that the peaceful, equal-armed cross had been adopted as the perfect Symbol for the flag of neutral Switzerland. At least the mystery was solved. Sophie and Jim were holding the key to a Swiss bank deposit box.

she spoke each word with intensity. "...ott van remény," I finished up the creed. Honestly, I'd heard, or seen it somewhere as a kid. Later, I regurgitated that saying to impress some A****n chicks. "Great, we have the same catch phrase." Alkonyka took off her shirt, revealing her lilac bra. Her tattoo was in Hungarian written in an archaic fashion. 'Where there is Valor' arched over her belly button and 'There is Hope' dipped beneath.

he said. Damon frowned. “That’s it?,” he asked. Tom nodded. “That’s all I heard,” he said. Damon looked at him, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t like this,” he said. “We should leave.” But Tom was already walking away from the altar, his eyes scanning the ground. “Wait,” he said. “Look at this.” Damon walked over to him and looked down. There, etched into the stone, was a symbol. It was a circle with a cross in the center. “What does it mean?,” he asked, as he attempted to touch it.