White Beard Name Novels & Stories

I could see name plates with dates listed under them. “Look-” I started to say. “King Alfredius.” The man said standing up. He had a full black beard with shortened hair. He was rather muscular and wore ivory colored robes with a silver rope around his waist. As he walked over to me, I could see that he had a badge with the Royal Family crest. He lifted my chin and smiled gently. “Do you know who I am?” “You just said King Alfredius.” I replied plainly.

Blackwheel looked shocked as he tried to compare his immunity with that of the man he had met a few times in his long life. "I know the master," Blackwheel said. "I have met him before. It was during a long journey to a lonely island in Asia. But that was a very long time. He is not just a man. He is more than a man. He has long flowing hair and a sharp teeth that can suck life out of any living creature. He is a terrible beast you wouldn't want to meet in real life." "That is very true. I have heard what you just said from many people who have come in contact with him," Alberto shook his head. "They say he has lived for more than two millenniums now. Some even claim he is older than the big

Caddel interrupted quickly. “I'm sorry” I apologized, and he glared at me. Laughing, we continued walking back to the forest. On our way there, we spotted an old man walking towards us. His bag was made of animal hair and his long beard almost touched his chest. “Doesn't he seem like a healer?” Caddel asked. I found his assumptions a bit silly. “Just because he has a bald head doesn't technically mean he is a healer. Don't go making stupid assumptions like that!” I scolded him, and he rolled his eyes at me. “You'll be shocked to find out he's one,” he said before heading towards him.

"I've been searching for answers, and I was told that you might be able to help me." The sage old man appeared slightly different from the image I had seen on the internet. Maybe it was the picture quality or maybe the picture was taken a while back. His features were worn with age and wisdom, and his eyes seemed to hold a depth of knowledge that I could only imagine. My eyes could not help but notice a black leaf-like spot in his all-white beard standing out, rooting from below his lower lip.

a voice called from behind I turned at once and saw a man with a white beard, dressed in a white suit "Who are you sir?, and how do you know my name?" I asked my mother and sister walked to where I stood and they greeted the old man before me "I guess we haven't met each other in a better circumstance but that's about to change, I'm Edwin Pendragon, the great and fearless man, and also the biggest oil mogul," he said

The bearded man rubbed his nose, patted the scimitar on his waist, and asked, "You know who I am, right?" "I don’t." Adrian was disgusted by this man, thinking how shameless it was for the latter to dare claim fame because of some lousy weapon. The bearded man became a little impatient. "I’m the famous Purple Scimitar Fighter, Igor Gretzky. That name should jog your memory.” At this moment, many people had gathered behind Igor. Judging from the aura they exuded, they were not to be trifled with. "Oh, I remember now." Adrian did not deny it. "You’re from the Moonlit faction, right?"

"I-I-I apologize. I'm Esmerelda Goodwyn, Elder of Thunder Whitecloud." I nodded. "Greetings and salutations, Esmerelda." I turned to the man sitting next to her. He chuckled. "I'm Garreth Whitehead." He looked to be of Asian descent, but where he'd gotten a name like Garreth was anyone's guess. His dark hair was brushed back from his face. His dark eyes twinkled as he nodded at me.

ATTIRE His attire aligned well with his looks and character. Being a supernatural entity of knowledge, who has literally all about the universe and its fabric in his head, no looks suits such personality other than an aged white bearded man. Possessing curly hair, a staff which was close to no use, and a garment that signified simplicity.

It didn’t take a genius to know what that meant. She smiled a dazzling smile at me, but all I could see in her was a witch of moronic proportions. She actually thought I’d accept her as my queen. “Your Majesty, you have finally arrived,” said one of the kiss-ass council members I called as Lord Beard because he had a beard so long it touched his waist. This man had been in my father’s council since the day he made this kingdom. I wasn’t specifically fond of keeping old men as my advisers—or even keeping advisers, for that matter—but since the first king already established such a stupid culture, I allowed it just to keep up appearances.

I saw the wizard Doyle Stalin for the first time in my life, although I had heard of him previously because he was a famous magician and his name kept appearing in the news headlines. He was an old man, and the wrinkles on his face were clearly visible. He seemed to be extremely wise and experienced. I noticed his hands, and I could see wrinkles there too. He had a thin frame and a long beard. Even his gray hair was long, and he had tied it into a bun. He was wearing a white robe with a black cloak over it and a pointed hat on his head. His expressions seemed to be kind and humble, contrary to what I had imagined. I thought him to be as rude and heartless as the vicious Joseph Andrews.