The Blacksmith Daredevil Novels & Stories

Still, he understood the need for armor. The blacksmith was like his smithy, big, scorched, and black. One of his eye lids was scalded shut, leaving him with only one eye to work with. But it seemed it did nothing to hinder his work. If he was less efficient for it, Sethlzaar could only wonder just how efficient he would've been when he had both eyes.

Namjoo whispered, “It’s not a good idea to act like a weak kid in front of the shopkeeper. He tends to scam his customers to get the maximum profit. Although he’s like that, he does have some high-quality items. He is a renowned blacksmith that knows his stuff. He just likes money too much. When he gets back, you should act carefully around him.” Yuna asked, “Is he a scary person? It didn’t seem like he could lift a sword with his scrawny figure.” Namjoo burst out laughing when she heard Yuna, “He’s far from scrawny. You must not be able to tell since he isn’t as big as the warriors of our nation. He is very strong. He may look like a clumsy weakling, but he’s far from it. He tends to be clu

the frail rider called out. The arena seized for a millisecond, the crowd was unsure of what they heard. “Are you sure,” the Track master said, the frail lad just nodded in acknowledgement and hopped on his bike. The crowd was thrown into an uproar The only person who had completed the Devil's Tongue in one piece was Venom. The rest were either dead or bedridden. The last rider had ended with a brain aneurysm from crashing down the cliff. “I must say that young lad is brave”

The bills for her mom’s meds weren’t gonna pay themselves. She’d heard the rumors about Damien Black. Everybody in the circuit had. The man who turned broken riders into something else. Something that won. Something that *belonged*. The barn door creaked open before she even knocked. He filled the frame—six-four easy, shoulders like a draft horse, black hair cropped short, a scar slicing through one dark eyebrow. His eyes dragged over her like he was already pricing her out. Black jeans, black shirt stretched across a chest that looked carved from fucking stone. Boots caked in dirt.

"I know you're one of Schneider's men, but I'm not going to let you go in this state. You definitely need proper treatment." With ease, the people lifted themselves up, walking with steady, steady steps in contrast to their less muscular bodies, like Askarovich. It was only when they had walked quite a distance and their eyes were no longer glaring from the sun, did they realised the identity of the man who was carrying them just now. Alec Berthold. The grandson of Pierre Berthold—a human blacksmith who was granted immortality by the goddess Morrigan and renowned as the only master weapon maker from time to time who could resonate with the magical powers of the old man's clients, who were mo

Nickel stepped forward, put his paws on Spitfire's shoulders and slammed his cock, which was considerably larger than most toms and quite suddenly hard, deep into the no-fur's pocket and began a brutal fuck. Spitfire's entire body tried to jerk away before it remembered that it was trained to handle this. He was a Rodeo star. This Hare might be large, but he wasn't any more violent than the horny toms at a Rodeo. Spitfire twisted his body, bucking his hips into the Hare as much as he could with the tethers holding him. He tilted his hips and groaned as the Hare's cock hit the spot deep in his pocket that sent electricity through the no-fur's body.

(Eliza's POV) I stared at the blacksmith, surprised by his eager recognition. His professional demeanor had vanished. "Your designs," he explained, pointing to a workbench. "I've been waiting for more. The dual-purpose dagger blueprint was extraordinary." Relief washed over me. For a moment, I'd feared he recognized me from somewhere else. "I hadn't realized my design was so impressive," I said, maintaining my male disguise. The blacksmith's eyes lit up. "In thirty years of smithing, I've rarely seen such innovative work. My master was particularly intrigued."

I questioned my own purpose each time Alruin and I had an argument, but at the end of the day, I knew that if by some miracle, I did win him over again, it would all be worth it. “The art of a blacksmith is of utmost importance, sonny. If the blade is too blunt, it doesn’t penetrate the armor and that risks a man’s life in battle. If his breastplate isn’t thick enough, it leaves his chest vulnerable for a fatal hit,” he carried on, “now, I was once in the army that fought against these beasts. I fought battles against men, got wounded, killed men, but it’s nothing like fighting a beast, you see.” Flashes of the beasts on Snowfang mountain flashed through my mind and I saw myself tumbling off

He let it flow in his movements, which gave him an angry and unyielding style and he didn't just force Chris onto the mat once. "When you're in that mood, you are really exhausting," gasped the blonde Elevender and rubbed his jaw, which had just had an upper cut. But immediately he attacked again. He didn't lose the casual expression on his face for a second and Dareon knew that he was only making love to him. Provided him with a chance to blow off steam before he had to work with Catlynn Campbell. His friend sensed that this woman could have a meaning for Dareon and was smart enough to set the course as best as possible. His fabulous looks and boyish charm sometimes belied the fact that Chr