Thorn Blade Bg3 Novels & Stories

"But we’ve brought the extraction kit. We’re going to find out exactly what your father hid in that blood." He raised his hand. Between his fingers, a long, hollow needle gleamed with a violet-silver tip. A harvesting lance. I tightened my grip on the shard, the silver threads finally igniting across my jaw in a jagged snarl. "Try it," I hissed. Thorne’s lips pulled back to reveal teeth that were too white, too perfect. He didn't lunge; he simply tapped a button on his wrist. The lights in the suite died instantly. The room plunged into a darkness that smelled of antiseptic and incoming steel.

The garden was copper and gold by the third week of September, and Mr. Osei was pleased about it. She could tell from the specific way he moved through it—not the working pace, the appreciating pace, the one he had when the garden was doing exactly what he'd designed it to do and he was simply receiving that fact. The south bed had pulled back to its bones, and the bones were right. The oak was turning fully now, the bronze she'd seen at the tips in the first week of September moving through the entire canopy, the tree becoming its autumn self.

Their wounds closed, their strength returned, and they fought with renewed ferocity. Malakai's troops, taken aback by the sudden turn of events, stumbled backwards in disarray and disappointed. Thorne's warriors, now empowered by Eryndor’s presence, pressed their advantage and launched a devastating counterattack. The hesitation was over. The sound of swords, sharp blades of knives and daggers were in action

The big drow yanked on the chain and swung it to the side, sending the blade towards Otheric. The young drow ducked and the blade merely shattered the chimney he was hugging. Without much effort, Nymgos spun the blade around again, keeping Minos and Rei at a length's distance. Anybody who dared to move, Nymgos would toss the blade against them, and pull it away, and spin it up again.

“You bring me what you find. Discreetly. And in return… I offer you truths. About the attempt on your life. About the undercurrents in this castle that threaten far more than just your engagement.” The offer hung between them, heavy with risk and potential. Trusting a shadow was insanity. But refusing meant facing the labyrinth of Blackwood Castle blind, with assassins potentially at her back and her own brother pulling her strings towards ruin. Lysander represented an unknown variable, a wild card. But in a game rigged against her, a wild card might be her only chance. “How?” Vivian asked, her voice barely audible. “How do I contact you?” A small, dark object flew through the air. Vivian fl

"Think about it, the name Kopis is ancient Greece for a knife and it's no coincidence that your name..." "... Is Blade." I finished for her as I began thinking about it. "If this is in anyway true, that means I'm cursed." "Yeah!" She said. "You are." My heart crashed as somehow, I had been hoping that this bloodlust thing would go away and I could try to have a normal life again.

She was his responsibility to look after and promised the Lord that he would protect her like a daughter. Rose’s training went well! She thought Cain took it too easy on her, however she was grateful. Her muscles had muscles that hurt, and ones she never knew she had, hurt! By the end of the day she was able to flip that big giant over her from a charge and get away! Next step will be to do it from standing still and then learning to attack back! Rose could barely contain herself, this was happening! Everything she had dreamt about someday accomplishing is on the right track! As she ignored Madame Gruage and went right for a hot soak bath, Rose reflected on that for a minute. “Everything has

As it passed, I drove the silver-infused tactical knife upward with all the force in my shoulder, aiming for the cluster of glowing energy where its throat should be. The silver blade sliced through the shadow-matter like a hot scalpel through butter. The thrall shrieked a wail of agony as the silver violently disrupted the dark magic holding its body together. It crashed heavily onto the floor behind me, with its form dissolving into a puddle of thick sludge that hissed against the concrete, eating into the stone. "Calista! Watch your right!" Kael roared from across the room. I scrambled to my feet, but I was too slow. The third thrall hit me from the side, it was heavy slamming into my rib

“You think this changes anything? Thorne will rebuild, he always does.” Talana crouched slowly in front of him. “No,” she said softly, wiping a smear of blood from her cheek. “You don’t get it yet.” She drew the blade. It wasn’t long. Just six inches of Morelli-forged carbon steel. Matte black, balanced, honed to a whisper. “Your boss doesn’t rebuild,” she said, voice like crushed velvet. “He buries.” She rested the tip of the blade on his sternum.

He replies to my mind with an image of a thumbs up emoji. I launch myself on top of my maker. In an attempt to halt him. The longer I'm in his presence, the more obedient my mark grows and betrays me. I'm trying to hit, bite and even scratch him. The mark is spreading over him shielding my attacks. He continues walking with me on his back. We stop in front of Arlo and Helena trying to make their escape. Arlo steps in front of her but Thorne grabs his throat and throws him away. I pry myself from his back and step in front of Him. His eyes are red and snake like.