Medieval Swordsman Novels & Stories

He couldn't do it in one blow, but he was quick, and his second strike stopped the threat. Our swords are now heavier than a medieval broadsword weighing in at double the weight. A big misconception about medieval battles was the sword weight. Five and a half pounds was the very top end for a sword that took two hands to wield. Ours weigh in at ten pounds and the length is longer coming in at fifty inches. This accommodates our larger bodies. We custom-made our own weapons after landing in Cuba using the steel from old cars and now it's all we use for hand-to-hand combat when training. Too many of our warriors are hard to control when they first transition. It's also becoming harder to contr

Sebastian had never seen a swordsman in his life so it naturally came as a shock to him. Swordsmen were those who practiced the ancient ways of the sword, sacred to the swordsmen who came before them. Sebastian cut through the attack like it was paper. "Way of Air!" Tim steeled himself to the ground and tightened his grip on his sword. "Wind Blade!" He was still puzzled at the limit of his opponent's skills. Sebastian out of boredom ran forward at the blade formed of wind that came at him, "Happy man slash!" He made a move on the sport and cut through Tim's attack again like it was paper. He ran at Tim with a smile on his face.

The Island Nation swordsman exuded an aura that could not be matched by even a thousand enemies. The long blade that he held in his hand was like lightning. Every time he swung it, the blade would let out a terrifying shine. Two disciples of Longmen, wielding longswords, stepped forward at the same time. They clearly looked like they were a league above the rest of the disciples. Their swords shimmered brightly, as if locked on to the swordsman. The swordsman did not move away. Instead, he swung his blade downward.

Her intense gaze, hardened by countless battles, was tempered by her unwavering loyalty to Somerland. To Elysia's left stood Gareth Swordbane, widely feared and respected as the Sword Demon. He was a tall, imposing figure, his eyes sharp and deadly. Known for wielding a blade with unparalleled mastery, Gareth’s skill in swordsmanship was legendary, his reputation as a ruthless opponent striking fear into the hearts of all who dared challenge him. His sword, an ancient blade etched with runic symbols, was strapped across his back, and his eyes held a piercing focus that spoke of countless battles fought and won.

He couldn't do it in one blow, but he was quick, and his second strike stopped the threat. Our swords are now heavier than a medieval broadsword weighing in at double the weight. A big misconception about medieval battles was the sword weight. Five and a half pounds was the very top end for a sword that took two hands to wield. Ours weigh in at ten pounds and the length is longer coming in at fifty inches. This accommodates our larger bodies. We custom-made our own weapons after landing in Cuba using the steel from old cars and now it's all we use for hand-to-hand combat when training. Too many of our warriors are hard to control when they first transition. It's also becoming harder to contr

I held one of the swords thrown, not knowing how to wield it but still standing my ground. The door fully opened, and I looked, waiting for the man to come out. But lo! And alas! It was a midget. A four-foot man with a beard that covered his body and a brown suit that I can swear he never washed. He held a sword bigger than him, but from the position he held it, he was a pro at wielding it—and who even used swords in this century? “I said leave!” he spoke, pointing the sword directly at me. For a small man, he didn’t deserve the strong manly voice he had.

Then he grabbed a belt another soldier was holding and unsheathed a longsword. Scarlett had never seen one close up, but she knew its name. Most of the women in Karai used smaller swords, poleaxes, axes, or lances. But a sword was just a piece of metal. The wielder had to know how to use it in order for it to be effective. “And what is your name, Mr.?” “Humbert,” he said, giving a small bow. “Fire… or magic tricks of any sort aren’t allowed.” “I won’t need any magic,” said Scarlett, smiling.

He said as he looked in to the distance. Yes, my father does love his story telling. I've heard about the Night Sword one too many times that I know the tales by heart. The man standing infront of me had been one of the best soldiers in the war. He had joined the army at the young age of ten and it had taken him a single year to master the art of wilding sword. My father had told me that Hander Bowman is the best swordsman in the entire five Kingdoms and most probably beyond. Not even the King at the time could handle a sword like him.

The man said as his fighting spirit rose. “Let's fight far from here.” Ding Bang said as he looked at everyone's scared face. “Why? Are you afraid that these weak maggots got implicated?” The man smirked. He raised his right hand up in the air, a majestic black sword with dragon engraved on it appeared. Mysterious words were written on its blade up to its hilt. Its sharp edge shines in cold luster with faint diamond aura surrounding it. An indication that his sword was a Triple S rank item.

No ancient chisel could have achieved such organic, living texture. He looked as though he had been captured in a single, frozen instant—a man struck down in the middle of a sentence, his broad shoulders squared, his left hand lightly resting on the pommel of a stone broadsword strapped to his hip. The sword itself was covered in intricate, swirling runes that matched the patterns along his high collar. A sudden, sharp pang of familiarity struck me deep in my chest.