Shortsword Of First Blood Novels & Stories

With a fluid motion, I drew the sword at my side, and as soon as the tip of the blade left the sheath, my whole hand and arm felt a heat emanate from it. However, my movements had been too swift to take in what had happened right away. The first vampire who had been cut down went up in flames and the sound of their screaming rang through my ears. My eyes were wide as I looked at the blade that was engulfed in flames. I wasn't familiar with the legend of the sword, but no wonder this thing was so potent despite being so damned old.

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

Cute. Talia selected a short sword and a forearm knife, balanced them, then flicked her wrist. The blade sang. Mira smirked. “Pretty. Let’s see if you’re so pretty after the match.” Talia smiled politely. “Pretty is for photos. I’m here to win.” Laughter rippled from the benches. Lucian didn’t smile, but heat burned in his eyes. “Begin.” First blood came in fast from Mira—saber probing, knife-hunting ribs. Talia parried, pivoted, steel grazing her jacket. The crowd hushed. Mira pressed again, but Talia’s knife kissed leather and peeled a strip. Mira’s eyes narrowed.

Defenseless and unable to move, all I could do was sit there and watch him advance to me with my dagger which he coated with something. As he was about to throw the dagger at me, I heard a shout and when I turned, it was to see Elison diving at him, he covered his body with mine just as I head the small thump of a dagger hitting its mark, other than that the only sign Elison gave to show something happened was the small breathe that left his mouth in a gasp before he stood up and swung his arm -which I noticed had a sword in it- in an arc, letting go of the sword at the last minute so that it can reach it mark, that mark was found when it met with Alson and it succeeded in separating Alson

Memories that weren’t mine flashed across my mind in fractured bursts. Ancient wolves kneeling beneath eclipsed moons. Blood staining snow. A woman screaming while shadows swallowed an entire battlefield. The first Luna. The first curse. The dagger wasn’t a weapon. It was an inheritance. “Aria!” Riven shouted. Kael moved. His blade began its fatal descent, I struck first. The dagger sliced through the air. The world split open. A shockwave of black and silver power erupted from the blade, colliding with Kael before steel could meet flesh. The force hurled him backward with brutal violence.

Ready yourself. The visions cleared and she opened her eyes just in time to hear the locks click on the door. She closed her eyes again and tried to steady her breath, gathering her courage, she clutched her hand around the hilt under the blankets, getting a better grip on her knife and slowly slipped it closer to her.

"Actually, what I need is this." Swoosh! A blood-red long sword wrapped with countless souls suddenly appeared behind Caspian and stabbed toward him.

She swipes at his face and thick drops of blood splatter to the floor. He returns with his own perfectly timed counter move and slices across her back as she pivots in the air. The pain screams into my body from her wound too, and my mind vibrates with fear. I can’t just stand and watch her be killed. I grab the bag and reach in, the sword is right on top still where I left it. The silver of the blade shines brightly in the sun as the full length is unsheathed from the hidden depths of my backpack. He has her pinned under his front paw as he snaps his enormous, powerful jaw right next to her face. Her own paws push against his chest and throat keeping his teeth from meeting their target. ‘Do

His greatsword lay across the prep counter, the blade still bearing the gouge where a shield had smashed into it, the notch's edges glinting cold. "Eggs are overdone. You've got a choice: burnt or raw." He shoved a plate toward me. One egg was a charred ring of black. The other was still wobbling. He unstrapped his own dagger and laid it on the countertop beside the greatsword. The dark brown leather wrapped around the grip was polished to a glossy sheen by years of sweat and blood. "That sword's too heavy. You take this. Light. Fast. Angle's different when you're going for lungs instead of heart. Blade goes up, extra half-inch of tilt. Don't use it backwards."

The blade was the only thing keeping it from snapping my face off. Its weight pressed me down, and its saliva dripped onto my face. “Get off!” I screamed, twisting my blade to the side. The edge cut its chest, making it howl. I managed to scramble to my feet. As it prepared for another attack, I swung the sword with all my might, aiming for its neck. The blade cut deep into its flesh, and it growled, falling to the ground. I did it. I had my first—my first kill.