Rifle Sword Novels & Stories

BLADE 3. Pain. It was all I felt when I shot my eyes opened. I felt so sore and tired. The memories of how Lorenzo plunged deeper into me last night filled my mind. He was so cruel to me. I didn't find any enjoyment in it at all. I tried lifting my hands and I was happy It was back to functioning. My tit hurts too as a result of the sucking he did last night.

Exactly as seen earlier in the castle. The sword. “What does that one do?” I asked, pointing to it. “It drinks blood. For anyone it kills, their blood is stored in the blade. You would try to always have a clothing between you and the hilt” That did not sound more beneficial than fairy dust. “So how useful would it be to protect me?” With only a smile, “very” Time to close the deal. “I have one silver coin” playing with the coins against my fingers. “Make it three and we have a deal”

The arming sword was the same only with a longer reach and more pointed tip. Another note was found inside. I took the liberty of choosing dual swords just for you. A shortsword and arming sword as it goes perfectly. It’s light, durable, and appropriate for your build, reach, and power. Practice with it as much as you can. Also, don’t poke yourself with it. Dune. She’s sure to buy him a present next time she sees him.

Rufus let out a cold laugh as he looked at Fane like he was looking at an idiot. He stepped forward and pulled out his weapon from his storage space as well. Just like Fane, he used a sword. Only, his sword was silver, and it glowed lightly with the light of the stars, like the milky way. "It's been so many years, I've never seen someone look for death quite like you. If you want to die so badly, I'll fulfill your wish!"

The room was plunged into silence, but there was an unknown pressure lingering in the air. “Say, Raelynn. I was wondering what weapon should I use to chop off the man’s head.” Eldrick questioned and pulled out a claymore sword from its sheath. He ran his fingers on the edge of the blade before swinging it in the air. “No, a sharper sword. How about an Estoc? I can plunge it through his heart and kill the man at once.” A sinister smile made its way on the man’s face and he turned to face the two, who did not comment a word.

"What is the difference?" He made a face, considering how to explain. "Well, I'd like to say a sword inflicts a better wound, but the main difference is that a rapier is designed for thrusting and precision, while a sword is more versatile, capable of both slashing and thrusting." A pause. "And of course, a better weapon to kill." Guinevere nodded, a look of understanding dawning on her face. "I see. Splendid." Alexander simply stared, enjoying her curiosity and the way she acknowledged and appreciated his lessons. When her look grew intense, he asked. "What are you thinking?"

I need my sword. Reaching behind my back, I feel the cool, smooth texture of my marking shift beneath my fingers. There’s a brief moment where the ink pulses, almost as if it’s alive, before it solidifies into the hilt of my sword. I draw it out, feeling the familiar weight settle into my hand. The blade hums with energy, a glowing blue that pulses in time with my heartbeat. This sword is mine, a part of me, born of my blood and soul. Athena’s gift, forged from my very essence.

It was filled with copper, silver and gold royals, all to help supply them while they sought out allies. After Boro said his farewell and accepted the money, he quickly made himself busy checking out the two pack horses. He wanted to give Littume and Lord Jetir space for there farewells. He saw Jetir give his son a firm hug and share a few words with him. Then he saw Lord Jetir unwrap the cloth and from it pulled out an ornate brown and gold scabbard. The scabbard was too thick to belong to a rapier, and too wide to be a katan, the long slightly curved, single edge style sword that Boro himself used. This one was as wide as the width of his palm and had two edges to it. A broadblade, an olde

Eryndor's Shadowing dagger seemed to dance in the moonlight, its dark blade slicing through the air with a haunting screee-ksss. Each strike landed with a thud-thwack-thoom, sending tremors through the troop's warriors. The troop's hearts raced as the violent zing-ting-zap of clashing daggers filled the field. The savages of warriors, fueled by fury and loyalty, clashed in a frenzy of arms and teeth. The ground grew slick with blood, the earthy smell mingling with the metallic tang of steel. Jack Wolf stood firm, his Moon-whisper spear shining with a soft, ethereal light. He parried Eryndor's strikes with a precision born of desperation, his movements a blur of speed and strength.

She dug around for a little bit, the loud metals of the weapons clanking together, before escaping once more, holding a new sword. It was long and thin, but very elegant, with an intricate handle. “This is a rapier! It’s meant for stabbing.” She threw it towards Ursa, who immediately put her hands to her face to stop it from damaging her any further. The sword clattered to the ground at Ursa’s feet, and she bent down to pick it up, admiring how light the blade was. “Won’t this snap from fighting your swords?” Ursa asked, as if she was entertaining the idea of fighting Aisha, which she was not.