Oberyn Martell Viper Novels & Stories

he rasped. Forest Edge — Marrow & Renly The first wave hit fast. Marrow spun, the blade cutting through the dark as Renly loosed arrow after arrow, each shot precise. They drove Vito’s men back, inch by bloody inch. But more were coming. Renly glanced at her, breathless. “We can’t hold them.” Marrow grinned, teeth sharp. “Then we’ll make them bleed trying.” Cave — Xavier The world wavered. But her face stayed clear.

The devil took Bara's memory not without reason and he and Hugo made good use of it, taking advantage of the girl's memory void with minor manipulations that culminated in Bara's distrust of those closest to her. Bara’ parents knew what the consequences would be if they simply let out the dark power that the girl had in her bloodstream. Bara may be predicted to be the owner of holy blood, but that is if the owner is not a wolvire and was not born in the red moon on the night of Kliwon Friday. The combination of all that creates an uncertainty that anyone needs to be aware of, no matter if the owner is trained from the very beginning.

he roared. His voice echoed off the stone walls. Vortigern was a tall, middle-aged man with sharp features and a neatly trimmed beard streaked with gray. His eyes were gray and cold as steel blades. He wore a black doublet embroidered with golden serpents — the symbol of his house. Around the table sat his closest advisors: General Draven, Chancellor Aldric, and, seated slightly apart in the shadows, Malachar himself. The sorcerer wore a dark purple robe. His skin was excessively pale, almost translucent, and black veins ran across his neck and hands. His eyes were completely black, with no visible white.

Matilda, her eyes gleaming with a sinister satisfaction, speaks to him in a voice that is both commanding and seductive. "Rise, my knight. Rise and serve your maker, and her maker… your new king—William, your conqueror, now and forever." And so Percy rises, no longer a man but a vampyre, bound to the service of the Night King, William the Conqueror. Together with Matilda, they carve a path of blood and death across England, their reign of terror unmatched in its cruelty. The creature that now haunts Demika's visions, the beast that once served William, was their companion, a monstrous pet bred for hunt, for war and destruction.

“Then let’s make it quick. Where’s Voren’s fortress, Kael? What’s he planning with Lena?” Kael’s eyes dart to the blade, sweat mixing with blood on his skin. “You won’t kill me. The Conclave’s soft—always has been. Jorah’s weakness, Elara’s dreams… pathetic.” His words ignite something in me, a fury deeper than primal instinct. I seize the lunar snare, pouring my power into it, silver light flaring. The threads constrict, slicing deeper into Kael’s flesh, carving crimson lines across his chest, arms, thighs. He screams, the sound raw, animalistic, his aura flickering wildly. The blood oath’s brand pulses, shadow-realm energy leaking like smoke, and my new sight catches fragments—images of Vo

And his plan was to kill her. And more fear came from the memory of the last conversation she had with her mother. “Witches uphold ancient vows of non-interference between the two sworn enemies. The two are all supernatural beings. Werewolves and weredragons. “Witches could amplify the powers of both the weredragons and werewolves. All witches had been bestowed this unique power. “The power that helped them to keep peace by their ability to use the mid-sun energy to control any dark werewolves and the strong wave of water to control weredragons.

The forest trembled beneath the weight of wings. Shadows slid across, blotting out the stars, fifty hunters of nightmare, bound by blood-oath and gold glided effortlessly. The Wyverns came first. Twenty-five scaled reapers, their sinewed bodies gleaming like wet iron beneath the moon. Their wings were vast, membranous sails, beating against the treetops. Spines ridged their backs like serrated blades, and from their fanged maws dripped venom that hissed where it struck the leaves. Their eyes burned with the dull red of banked embers — cold, intelligent and merciless.

Domenik moved first. He shoved Eirwen behind a pillar of burnished obsidian just as the breach cracked wide and the first of them came through. Várgr. Not masked. Not stealth. Armored in matte black, faces painted with bone-white streaks, eyes wild behind mirrored lenses. Two in front, three behind, formation precise—until the leader spotted Domenik. Then precision bled into rage. “LAEV!” the wolf snarled, raising his weapon. But Eirwen was faster.

The details were too crude for Mell's likings but he figured it was the quickest he could pull off in battles and his boisterous laugh showcased his satisfaction. Varanus roared at the earth knight, seemingly furious of being forced to lower himself in front of it. Mell dropped his hand and the knight followed, swinging the tomahawk down to Varanus. The lizardman roared as he stopped the attack with all of his might. The stone blade was just meters away from his furious, reptilian head.

Amongst them, Ares was forgiving. Arthurian, the first among the twins. He had heterochromia, his left eye red, and the other— blue. His hair, black. One can see him in only two places in the Dark City — the archives and the night inn— for sure, surrounded by ladies. He was called the snake of the family, the master of whisperers, and the Midnight Legion's source of intel. He is conniving, conning, and sly. When one lays eyes on his pink-colored robes, one must be careful to speak.