Scud Blade Novels & Stories

We thought we had killed them all. Rivers of blood soaked the ground and flowed between the trees in the forest south of Scarlet Moon. Torn and broken bodies littered our path as we retreated to the safety of the only pack Sebastian trusted with those most precious to him. We limped through the gates, bloody and battle weary after taking on at least five men a piece. Unbeknownst to us at the time, one man survived, Blue Blade, named for the unique and deadly weapon he wields. He is the one who sends rogues to the border, taunting me, letting me know he is still out there, waiting for me to blink so he can strike.

Blood darkens his fur. He doesn’t make a sound. The cut doesn’t slow him. I duck under a snapping jaw and roll, coming up on one knee with my second blade already up. I strike again. Deeper. Cleaner. This is familiar. The burn in my arms. The narrowing of my vision. The way the rest of the world drops out when my body remembers what it’s for.

Shame this was evening happening to me. Unfortunatly, Damon moved to stand beside Ethan. “These are Twisted Blade push daggers. A tri-edge blade that spirals. Also known as a cyclone blade. They insure maximum damage with little effort. When used correctly, it will increase our killing effectiveness by 10%. Your opposite will bleed out before their wolf will be able to heal them.”

We stayed silent for a while as we wound down the streets of Moon City, the night life shown in the bar lights streaming through the skies. "What is the blade that he was talking about?", I asked after a while of silence. "The blade is an ancient weapon that can be used to kill young vampires", Jacob responded, his eyes focused on the road, his hands relaxed on the steering wheel. "Young vampires?", I pondered. Did he mean people like Kane? "Do you mean newly turned?", I asked. "The ones that just underwent the change?"

Justice finishes talking, a gust of red wind appears and blows our hair all over. "Here," SpeedBlade screams, throwing everything in his arms right in front of Ms. Justice. The two of us, at first stun by his sudden appearance, barely have time to get out of the way as SpeedBlade throws everything down. A pile of machine parts; gears, pipes, some sheet metals, and other things, all collapse onto Ms. Justice's metal net.

The pulse was not directed at him, so Creed knew it wasn't an attack. Very soon the pulse disintegrated in the room. He saw that the scissors had vanished from their original spot on the wall. But now a pair of circular metallic discs were lying on the floor. The discs had a sharp blade on the outer rim of the disc and blue veins around the edges and inner rim of the disc. He came close and realized the same blue nerves like inscriptions were still visible, just like on the scissors. The inner rim of the discs had a blunt surface to maintain a grip from the inside. Both the discs looked like an identical copy of each other.

I watch, breathless, thinking it will disappear — but instead, the condensed currents split, sliding smoothly along both sides of his throat, brushing the skin with the gentlest, most deliberate, and menacing caress, before they meet again behind his neck. There, in a heartbeat, the wind snaps back into form, reforming into a razor-fine blade. And then — faster than the eye can track — it whips across the room. CLANG. The windblade slices straight through a steel art sculpture standing by the far wall — a polished metal spiral about thirty centimeters wide — and cuts it clean in half. The halves clatter apart with a ringing sound, the edges gleaming sharp and fresh. The blade itself dissipat

He exploded into motion, his blade a silver blur that severed one of the creature's legs in a single, powerful stroke. The Scourge lost its balance, shrieking as it tumbled backward. Before it could recover, Cassius was on it, plunging his sword straight through its chest and pinning it to the stone floor. Its ember-like eyes flickered for a moment and then extinguished. Its form dissolved into a final wisp of shadow, leaving nothing behind but silence and the echo of my own ragged breathing.

They unleashed Resonance Blasts (concentrated pulses of sound and Isotope energy) that slammed against the Sonic Shield, making the blue dome flicker ominously. "They’re trying to shatter the shield!" Kazimir roared, drawing his Underwater Combat Blade (a specialized, plasma-edged knife designed to cut through hardened materials). "We have to break through!" He moved like a steel torpedo, kicking off a splayed leg of one of the Sentries. His blade, crackling with focused energy, sliced through the creature’s chitinous armor, severing a limb. The Sentry shrieked, a high-frequency whine that vibrated through Elara’s suit.

Possibly unstable. I rolled my jaw, tension building in every line of my body. “Terminate if necessary.” That was Creed's code for eliminating the evidence. Which meant if Elias was even half as brilliant—and reckless—as the rumours claimed, he was already a walking dead man. I was just the bullet they’d chosen. I sighed, opened the side drawer of the desk, and pulled out the black tactical duffel I always brought to Creed operations. Inside: my collapsible blade, the silver-dipped one; a short-range scanner; flashbangs; comms; suppressor for the Glock.