Warriors Oc Creator Novels & Stories

:Warrior, you said you had another such vision earlier. Rhychard nodded as he told them about the incident at his parents' house. "That one was real enough to singe my fingertips." He held out his hands for their inspection. Tryna slid off the table, took his fingers in her tiny hands, and inspected them as if she were a doctor. "You really should have had Kree treat these burns when they first occurred. That is part of the reason cosheys bond with Warriors, remember? Their healing powers help keep you alive."

The item had to be shaped according to its future usage: you could forge a sword but, if you didn't manage to shape it with sharp edges, then it couldn't be used properly. In Sara's case, with her last creation, the first three requirements were met: her mental sphere could store the "Breath", she managed to imprint it with a strong will, and the material used coincided with her element. However, simply the beak of a Moon owl could not sustain many impacts and its form made it unusable as a throwing weapon. 'I can't sell it directly or the world will be informed that I'm training to be an inscription master. I'll just store it for now and maybe sell it in another place.'

“Every day.” “Just yourself or others?” “Both.” “You lead training for...?” “The top warriors.” The rhythm between us was rapid-fire, like a verbal ping-pong match. I was curious, and something about all this didn’t sit quite right yet. “Who else trains during the other sessions?” “Most of the pack—warriors, teens, kids, women, omegas. Everyone’s divided into groups.” I hummed thoughtfully, piecing it all together in my mind. “But you don’t train those groups?”

"Don't look so scared babe. The worse he'll make you do is fuck him. It might be pleasurable depending on-" Losing all his sense of his cool, war let go his mate and his cool demeanour flew out the window and into Trent's face. The blow to his packmate forced the large in height and width man to stumblya few feet backward. A sickening crack sounded. Trent groaned before his hands went to his face, letting loose a slew of curse words. His fullname was Warren; but that didn't suit him much. War was his name and he felt the surge of the power from the name flow through him as he stalked over to Trent.

Professor Damaris also said that every Summoner has a spirit animal who can protect and guide them. The Healing Caste is the sixth caste in the Olympus wherein people like Dr. Foster have the ability to heal and revive someone from death. If not so, others from this caste can create different kinds of potions—good potions to be exact. Professor Damaris didn’t elaborate on it because she said that I’m able to know it soon.

I shrugged and replied: ' OK, creep, cut the chase, why are you so engrossed with being my friend?' The reply was instantaneous ' I'm not sure if ' creep' defines me caring and I'm not 'engrossed' with you. I just want to be your friend.' Knowing I wouldn't win this fight, I said: 'fine. You're still a creep. See you tomorrow then.'

His wise eyes sized me up. I knew I must look like hell—red eyes, wrinkled clothes, reeking of despair. He cut me off. "So, you know where she went. But do you know why she had to go?" I froze. "Damien, do you know what The Claws represent?" The Elder stood and walked to the window. Of course, I knew. The top werewolf security organization in the world. Directly under the royal family. Only the best of the best from every pack made it in.

Except he was the person on the bike that night. “You’ve been following me around?” I narrowed my gaze, my fingers curling into a fist. He dipped the phone back into his pocket. “Let’s just say I take an interest in patients before treating them.” “I’m not your patient.” “Not yet,” he said, still calm. “But if I were to release the pictures and tell the world that you are becoming an omega. Imagine how the press would ravage it. ‘Tom Rivers is becoming an Omega for Gerard Vance, the man who created the Omega drug so Alphas could fall in love.” He paused, staring at me. “Beautiful headline. Do you think your father would like it?”

I'm made of sharp edges and vengeance, and I will not crumble. "Eleven years. You should be more informed," I snap. It's a foolish mistake to irritate a Warrior, but I'm tired of being undermined and treated as a disposable toy. He clenches his fists. He's the perfect impersonation of danger, and for the first time, I wonder who exactly I'm dealing with here. "Careful," the word barely escapes his gritted teeth. "We're done here. I will only answer to your Alpha," my voice comes out cold and detached.

What… what was happening? Before I could ask, another warrior approached carrying a black cloak. Unlike mine… this one bore the silver crescent emblem of Silver Moon Pack stitched across the shoulder. The head warrior gestured, and the warriors immediately released me. My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the ground. The head warrior tossed the cloak toward me. "Wear it." I stared at him in confusion. "You have one hour." His voice was cold. "Leave Silver Moon territory before then. If you're found here after that..."