Kratos Black Bear Armor Novels & Stories

He looked like a giant child with a secret. "We brought armor," he rumbled. "Better than the beetle shell." He tossed the package onto the bed. It landed with a soft thud. I looked at it. Then at them. "I have the standard issue cadet greys. They're fine." "They are cotton and polyester," Barzil said. Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. "They offer zero ballistic protection and they restrict range of motion in the shoulder joint. If you fight in them, you will tear them, and then you will bleed."

Neither Mom nor Dad spared me a backward glance. From that day onward, I learned to stand on my own two feet. I had to take care of myself. I was only six years old when I faced the loneliness, the danger, and the helplessness of life on my own. I forced myself to be strong and resilient. I forced myself to be independent. I made sure to build a tough armor around myself to protect myself from harm. My armor was close to perfect during my childhood and teenage years. However, on the night of my 18th birthday, the first crack started to form in my carefully-crafted armor.

She didn't believe he would keep that old thing. He laughs at her and gets dressed, it was a black garb that exposed the arms and the mid section, the chest was plated with amour and there were gauntlets.to where to protect the lower arm. He slides his mask on and his pants are sticking to his body like glue. They were placed a bit under his waist and she was able to see the drool worthy 'V' he had around his torso.

A murmur of ‘Yes Alpha’ follows and I turn back to the front, awaiting the signal of our scout. I’m wearing a black cloak over my clothes that bears the crest of the Moonstone pack, a black top with a protective armour plate on top, black pants, and high boots finish off my ensemble. My hair is braided and pinned back and a sword belt hangs around my waist holding my sword.

Rendering the black bear one with injuries that affects its movements, Lyor’s black wolf dashed and rolled back as he felt the stinging pressure from the blow of the black bear two that almost hit his head. The sigh of relief that did not even manage to be exhaled chocked back on his throat as Lyor felt the numbing pain on his front paws connected to his silvery white claws that are still quivering from exerting too much force to cut through the thick fur and hide of the black bear one.

written in the Jakalorn native language. Inside the Black Panther’s hovel is a living space the size of a master bedroom that one would find in a castle or fort. On one side are old and used bunk beds that have unmade sheets and lightly feathered pillows on the ground. In the middle of the room is a transference altar, the same one that Malakai had in his bedroom. Though this altar is made from dirty stone and the orbs in the middle that holds the rosmalt together also have specs of grim around the orb and all across the staff and centerpiece of the pedestal. There is one section dedicated to bathing. There are two tubes that are filled with clean water that ever so slightly overflows. The s

He smiled lightly and I nodded, but my eyes were still glued to the black beasts off in the distance. “Helpful how?” “They, um, well they malt I guess you could call it. They lose their scales, and we use it to make body armour of a kind.” “I'm not sure I understand.” I frowned trying to imagine wearing a suit made entirely out of dragon scales and coming up with only ridiculous images. “Here.” Cole stated holding out his arm palm up to show me a hard black square that had been tied to the inside of his wrist with a piece of cord.

Through the dim light, an enormous army came into sight. Each soldier wore the same armor made of black animal hide, and they towered over 2 meters tall with a long black sword in each of their hands. There were so many of them that the earth moved as they marched. A gigantic chariot made of animal bones and fastened on the backs of four colossal beasts galloped ahead of the troops. The fierce beasts had shiny coats, and they were about 20 meters in length with razor-sharp fangs and claws. A tall, muscular frame in shiny black armor stood proudly on top of the chariot. His hair was down; it looked untamed as the wind blew on it—that was the Raksasa King. His sons, Alaric and Amastan, stood b

Ready for the kill. They start attacking, mercilessly. With a dozen of them start moving towards Silas's defenceless body. Ready to kill the king of werewolves and end the war. And that was it. Standing in front of Silas protecting him. Thaneos shifts into his pitch black wolf and roars. So loudly. That even the ground they stand on trembles under his feet. Cracks developing in the forest floor. Making it resemble like an earthquake. The dark clouds covering the sky. Making the full moon night to be changed into a new one.

Kent growled, and his breath moved my loose blonde hair. “Change back. Change back now!” I demanded. He was scary. Probably more than the wolf that attacked me. Thankfully, the fur dissipated back into skin and his wolfish features turned back to manly ones, as two of his four arms turned back into arms and he was standing upright again. Naked.