Skimming Blade Set Novels & Stories

He smiled while they screamed and thrashed in agony, a glint in his eyes. Blake didn’t give up and continued the torture for hours while the few warriors that joined us kept running out to bring coffee and food. If torture were an art, Blake was an exceptionally creative artist. I had never even thought to imagine all the different ways a body could be disfigured. And as if he was a professor, Blake patiently lectured us on the benefits of each knife he was using. He showed off his clip point—good for quick, deep puncture and withdrawal. Then his drop point—good for skinning. Finally, his needlepoint—perfect for thrusting. All things I'd have been perfectly content never knowing.

I instantly noted how built she was—all lean muscle. My dad gave her a very ominous smirk, his whole face taking on an evil appearance. "So, you seem to be well-versed in knives, Sara." He pulled out a case and dropped it on the metal table in the center of the room. "Which blade should we use today? A clip point, tanto, or maybe a straight back?" He looked up at her. When she didn't respond, he continued, "Sounds like it's dealer's choice then. Straight back it is." He pulled it out of the case.

Ambrose grinned and this time the blacksmith released a huff of amusement, just as the blade reached it's end and he caught it with both hands. "There you have it." He stared proudly at the blade, before offering it to Sephora. She wordlessly took it out of his hands, marveling at how light the blade was, how sharp - "Ouch." Sephora sucked on her finger angrily. After all her training, you'd think she'd be more careful when handling blades by now. Ambrose huffed from beside her, "Do I really need to tell you which part of the blade to handle, milady?" He drawled, chuckling as Sephora glared at him again. Instead of biting Ambrose's head off, Sephora returned her attention back to the blacksm

Haakon lowered the blade Shaky, pointing, lawn. Ragnar saw that the weapon looked strange and complex. A serrated blade was used for the edge, and the blade itself appeared to have a complex mechanism. "Well, dear." said the sergeants. It may be used. You are armed and I am not.

I said as I stood up again. I walked over to the steel cabinet and opened the doors. I took out my knife roll and placed it on the table where she’d be able to see the display. I took out my favourite Gerber knife and turned it around in my hand. It had a fixed blade, not that I had anything against folded blades, but cleaning it afterwards sucked. In my personal opinion the fixed blade was stronger when separating a joint and getting into those tough spots and cutting through sinew and muscle. The blade wasn’t long but it was sharp and did what I needed it to do.

This was definitely a weapon that required great skill to use defensively. The blade itself was a single-edged blade with a wicked curve, which was somewhere between a katana and a scimitar. The length was roughly 40 centimeters, but incredibly thin - perhaps only half a centimeter at its thickest. Although it was 5 centimeters wide at the guard, it tapered down to a point as it reached the tip.

I said looking off into the distance by the end, the horrific scene of these huge blades flying at me playing back like a movie reel. “I still don’t understand what happened, I was stood off to the side of the training grounds and was learning how to properly catch the blade when it’s flying at your face. It was all going great until multiple knives began to fly at me. I don’t know if you’re familiar with the claw spiked blades but what makes them so dangerous, is the razor-sharp claw like edge which when is sliced or thrown at a person, it seems to dig into the skin and when it spins to exit, rips layers of their flesh off. Now, I had been catching them with ease, but when they all were bei

Sky said quietly. He pressed the flat of the blade against his father’s cheek, just below the eye. Then he turned it, the edge kissing his dad’s skin, and then, he drew it down slow and deliberate. A thin red line bloomed instantly, blood beading along the cut like a string of rubies. Harlan hissed, his body jerking, but Sky’s grip on his throat kept him pinned. Another slice pieced Harlan’s skin lower, along the jaw. Shallower this time, his skin parted cleanly, blood trickling in slow rivulets down his father’s neck, staining the collar of his shirt.

"You can't feel an edge-drift from the boards, Jaxson." "I can hear it," Jaxson growled low, his fingers tightening slightly against Liam's hip in a dominant, possessive squeeze. "The sound of a balanced blade is clean. If you're trailing even a fraction of a millimeter, the steel scrapes instead of cuts. Take the sheet." Liam let out a soft, misty breath that vanished into the chilly air, and stepped onto the ice.

"That's intriguing. I might just take you up on that offer sometime." Xaire, on the other hand, leaned forward, her interest piqued. "You have blades, too? I lost my favorite set during my last mission. I've been meaning to get a new one." Khein nodded, his gaze meeting Xaire's. "Absolutely. I have a collection of high-quality blades. I can show you some designs, and if there's a specific style you're looking for, I can get it customized for you." Xaire's eyes sparkled with anticipation. "You can customize them?"