Rifle Sword Novels & Stories

“Not what looks royal. What will still be in your hand when the pretty weapons are gone.” I moved along the rack. A short spear balanced like a promise. A bow of white horn. A coat of scales dark as river ice. I lifted a hand axe first, felt the pull in my wrist, put it back. He watched my shoulders, not the steel. That was the bond work. He was learning how I decided. “This.” I took a mid length sword, single edged, the guard simple, the weight honest. Then a second piece, a narrow blade meant to sit against the spine. Last, a set of throwing knives small enough to live in a boot.

He had to consider who he was fighting for. The thoughts that were spinning through his mind suddenly came to a grinding halt. Without saying a word, Alex reached his right arm over his shoulder. The sword sheathed on his back was not like a normal blade. He crafted it himself with precise ingenuity. On the hilt of the sword, a small handle stuck outward from the side. Alex grabbed hold of the handle and pulled the sword from his back. The blade itself was rather short, only a little over fifteen inches in length. Attached from the bottom end of the hilt was a series of firm, leather straps, which Alex quickly fitted along his arm just above his elbow. Alex had been taught from day one that

"Felix?" With a sly smile, Felix pulled a sword from his long black coat. He slid it out and swung the blade in one continuous movement, like a samurai from a Japanese movie. Both the triplets and a couple of other lads pulled out switchblades in less impressive displays, but Riley just stood with a grin on his face. "I don't need a weapon," he told them. "I already have all the weapons I need." He pointed to his fists, elbows, and knees.

“Swords are for lords.” The metal and smithing made swords a rich man’s weapon amongst the humans, Thaelen realized. Where Rupert had been large and slow, Micon was quick and graceful. He jabbed at Thaelen with the steel tip and Thaelen complicitly swayed out of the reach of that sharp point, before returning the move. Micon immediately flipped his spear, holding it double handed as a bow, blocking Thaelen with a clack of wood to wood, striking at Thaelen’s feet with the heel of the bow as he used the movement to step to the side.

“How about we join in, like that better, right?” “But…” I looked down at my open palms, sending a signal to Flynn with my action. “I am not with my sword.” He huffed and walked over to one of the sword racks while I trailed behind him. “That is fine. We can borrow two of these,” He uttered as he retrieved a steel sword before tossing it to me. I caught the sword and stared long at it, noting its tangible difference from the one Phyllis had given to me, as it looked more like the Claymore steel. Somehow, it was much more comfortable than the Katana, but I still preferred daggers.

It was as if a frozen barrier had formed between us, making it clear that our bond was strained and fragile. He deftly drew his rapier sword from its scabbard, the metal gleaming in the dim light. The slender and elegant blade reflected a polished sheen, its sharp point poised and ready for action. The hilt, adorned with intricate engravings, fit snugly in his hand, offering a firm and comfortable grip. The crossguard, adorned with ornate designs, added a touch of sophistication to the weapon's overall appearance. As he brandished the rapier, its presence commanded attention, exuding an air of deadly precision and finesse. "Try not to get hit by the blade," he said as he cracked his head fro

Its formidable presence serves as a reminder of his role as a prince and protector. To Tritan's left, Finrir gracefully hovers, his pack adorned with a sheathed long Viking sword. If his lethality is needed, the sword becomes an extension of his skills, a weapon to be unsheathed with precision and deadly intent. Crafted with intricate engravings and a polished edge, the sword reflects the strength and resilience that Finrir embodies. It is a weapon that strikes fear into the hearts of their enemies, poised to be wielded when the situation demands it.

He was so focused on the glowing sword. Leonard brings out his Alcohol container and takes a sip from it to at least calm his trembling body. Rio went to the stone stairs and reached the landing area at the top. The sword was surely made of silver with a gold and brass handle. This is definitely the sword Pamungkas was talking about. Rio firstly creates a mind-link with Deadrei and said to her, “I am coming for you my love, just wait a little more." Deadrei hears him but the mind link was not strong enough so she was not able to reply to him.

On the pavilion floor lay a sword carved with a dragon, and standing on it was the man who had shouted. He stooped slightly, breath ragged; his eyes were bloodshot, bulging as if they might pop from their sockets. Through gritted teeth he thought, 'Xiu Jian is a damned wretch! I can’t even burn his sword!' Indeed, the trembling, furious man was Huang Fu, and the blade beneath his boot was the Sacred Dragon Sword. He had tried to set the sword aflame—yet not only did the flames refuse to take, the fuel he poured seemed to be absorbed and vanished, drying as if swallowed by the metal itself.

He’s smiling as he does so and Cain’s voice surfaces in my head again. “When Lycans war, the lands shake.” Rhys spreads his fingers and that green energy forms a phantom sword. Raymel nods and does something that sends my heart racing. “Catch.” The swords shoot out like rockets and me yelping is all it takes for me to fall back into the water and land on my butt. Raymel’s swords fly through the air so smoothly and delicately you’d consider them a work of art. I would have if they weren’t bent on killing Rhys.