Traditional Scythe Tattoo Novels & Stories

he demanded, capturing her fingers in a tight grip. He covered her much smaller hand and forced it to his hair roughened chest. He held her hand tightly for a moment until he was certain she wouldn't take her fingers away when he loosened his hold. Her eyes stayed on his tattoo as she traced the pattern. It was some kind of pagan tattoo, almost Celtic, but in the shape of a four-sided, bladed weapon. It protected his heart. She traced her fingertips over the intricate knots, fascinated by the depth of the work. Her nail accidentally scraped against his flat nipple, drawing a hiss from him. Her eyes flew to his and she nearly snatched her hand back. "Don't stop," he growled from between gritt

The tattoo image was at the peak of perfection and it almost seems as if both scorpions are gonna come alive at will. On a closer look, one would discover that both scorpions were different in color. One is Red and the other one is Dark-blueish color. Both young men were so charming that they could stop any lady and cause them to look at them several times. But one of them look younger and he was three years younger than the first guy. On the left hand of the Elder, brother was a red scorpion, and on the left arm of the younger was a tattoo of a dark blueish Scorpion.

“Right there. Your name and music notes on either side. Maybe some little butterflies.” “Are you serious, Reb? That’s permanent, you know.” “I know. You don’t want me to?” She traced a tattoo on his forearm with one finger. It showed a dagger through a skull. It was a beautiful piece of art, but masculine. “Would you rather I get one that matches yours?” “I would love my name permanently etched on your sexy little back. I could stare at it while…” He lifted her shirt and took a peek at the area in question. “Damn…” he said breathlessly and gave himself a little shake. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

Not him. Just. Like. Everything. Else. "Yes, Pakhan." I bow my head with reverence, and Aleksander's eyes drift down to the tattoo on my wrist, where his gaze lingers. All the men in the Knights who pass The Reaping at the age of sixteen receive the Viking Futhark rune for defense tattooed on the underside of their wrist. They then receive the Greek Sigma symbol once they're initiated into the Brotherhood. I have neither because not only should no one know of my existence and lineage, but I was supposed to die that night seventeen years ago.

My heart’s pounding as I pull my top down from my shoulder and look at Shane’s mark that is now tattooed over my shoulder; it consists of a shield which covers my shoulder. It has a sword upon it with an intricate hilt. In front of the shield is a wolf standing protectively. Shane… the shield of defence… He was ready to protect everyone, and he died a true warrior… I brush my fingers down my tattoo. Right beneath it, I had his name tattooed too. I look at Jax’s mark on my neck. It’s darker than Shane’s was. It consists of a thicket of trees, black with hues of dark green, and through the trees, you can see the dark silhouette of a wolf with yellow eyes peering out from between the trees.

Nearly all of their melee weapons took on some variant of the scythe’s form: Long-handled heavy war-scythes, long-handled light war-scythes, short-handled light war-scythes, double-edged war-scythes, gun-scythes, and many more besides. This was because the war-scythe was intimately bound to the racial class of the Gondarians: the Slaughter Knight. Many inherited battle techniques could only be executed in conjunction with a war-scythe. The weapon Lombart handed to Logo was a long-handled gun-scythe, 2.23 meters in length and 0.64 meters in width, forged from transcendent metal and layered with multiple enchantments. It could hook, thrust, and cleave with devastating force.

Crossing me will only lead to their deaths, and I vow to never make it an easy death. I may sound like a sick and twisted b*stard, but I enjoy this part of my work. Everyone back home respects me too much to ever cross me. So I never really get a chance to have fun. Today, however, I plan on having a lot of fun. Several hours later, the man before me is unrecognizable. Blood is splattered everywhere, including all over my suit. Great, I'll have to find some clothes to change into. It's not as though I can just parade around covered in blood. Before I leave, I grab my last instrument. I pick up a branding iron in the shape of a scythe. The branding iron has become my signature. Before I dispo

“Your tattoos are beautiful.” I look at the tattoo of a skull surrounded by black flames. My whole right arm is decorated with tattoos from shoulder to wrist. My skin prickles with every caress of her fingers, but I don’t stop her from touching me. The tattoo sleeve has several tribal symbols, and there are a seal trident and a frogman tattoo on my shoulder. Each tattoo represents something in my life. The skull represents my status as an Assassin, and the cross is a play on my name. Her finger moves down the line of my intricate cross, then to the inside of my rib cage, where I have an inscription. Qui velit, ut vivat in aeternum.

Scar kissed her neck softly as she traced every line of the ink as if she was re-inking them herself. A large skull was surrounded by an array of roses. A Christian cross in the back, behind the skull, stuck out to Lani because of the dove perched on it so innocently. Scar's tattoos were a mixture of dark and light, they described him perfectly. The same happened on his arms, one was decorated with the ideas of Satan, the other those of holy angels.

Summer’s fingers shook as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt from the top by his throat. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck and knew that he was fighting the urge to bite her. He remained motionless, waiting for her to move further. She could feel the tension increase as she slowly made her way down, gradually releasing each button to display his muscular chest. Her eyes were transfixed by an emerging tattoo. On his sternum was tired tree branches that spread off in every direction. As she pushed her hand to open more of his shirt the patterns changed towards his arms which took a haunted vein and shattered glass appearance. On the end of some of the branches had numerous nam