Runic Tablet Simply Swords Novels & Stories

The only thing that stood out, was a sword, leaning up against the rock wall beside the bed full of furs and straw. From what I could gather it looked well made with a leather-wrapped handle, worn with plenty of use. I tilted my head in curiosity as I took note of a shield just behind it, a shield I had overlooked the last time as it was dark and blended into the shadows. The more I looked at it the sharper the detail became. It had runes etched into the wood, runes I recognized as Norse, Futhark but that was as far as my knowledge went. It would have been a blind guess to try and make sense of it.

Once his safety was ensured, he began to sense the aura of the Chaos Sword. The aura of the Chaos Sword was weak, but he could still sense it as he had cultivated the Chaos Sacred Art and the Nine Voices of the Chaos. Following his senses, he advanced forward. Soon, he arrived at a strange place. Upon approaching the place, James sensed a powerful Sword Intent. “Sword Mount.” James saw a large stone tablet. There were two words on it. The words were not left behind by living beings. They were formed by the Sword Energy here. Glancing at the tablet, James noticed countless weapons stuck in the ground. The weapons exuded powerful energy.

A crest gleamed on his chest plate: the Moonveil Citadel emblem, a silver wolf's head wreathed in thorns, symbol of an ancient order long whispered in legends. In his grip, he wielded a sword that sang of forgotten forges—a massive greatsword with a blade as long as a man's arm, etched with glowing runes that pulsed like veins of starlight. The hilt wrapped in blackened leather, guarded by a crossbar shaped like crossed fangs, it hummed with arcane power, cleaving through monster hides as if they were parchment. Each swing arced with devastating force, severing limbs and heads in sprays of dark ichor, the warrior pivoting seamlessly, boots sinking into the mire without falter. He fought alon

"Go Turry!" "Ladies, that's enough, this is a solemn lesson in magick - and the first phase of my courtship!" Jarnja mock scolded, beating her furred breasts with her claymore. Silence, then laughter, fell across the fighting pit. Felice handed me a sapphire encrusted longsword carved with bindrunes in the shape of the wolf riding, snake reins giantess Hyrokkin. I saw Othala, the Ancestors, on its hilt. "I'll beat you, dear Jarnja," I smirked as I said it, flashing the blade.

Pushing open the back door to his stall, I gazed at the array of weapons that lay on the tables. Swords, bows, arrows and axes littered the tables. "When did you have time for this?" I whispered. Father surely hadn't done all of these in one day. As I gazed at the array of weapons, one weapon caught my eye. It was a silver sword. At the base of the handle was a purple gemstone. Gently grasping it, I felt the weight shift in my hand. Swords weren't my cup of tea. To me, they were heavy and left you open, but I still loved the way this sword looked.