White Beard Name Novels & Stories

“If you don’t mind my speaking up, I think he might still be alive!” Dale looked up with such speed that his neck nearly snapped. He scrutinized the man who spoke those words. He was standing in front and looking down at them. He was nearly six feet tall, bald and white-bearded. He had a dignified expression and was dressed in white noble clothing. His white robe and beard fluttered in the wind slightly as he looked at the crying Dale and supposedly dead Wilson. When Dale said nothing and looked on in a daze, the old man continued speaking.

– The man was sitting cross legged in front of him, with his red eyes and his white hair, with the appearance of a 60 year old man, even though he was over 2 thousand years old, he was muscular, he had a good physical conditioning. Joseph was the wet dream of every fiery gay man and woman, a crown of smooth, well-kept skin, no signs of age, just white hair, he was muscular, strong and defined, his muscles were defined and not hidden in the slightest. over the clothes, a man with white fur on his arms and chest, a real polar bear, an albino with red eyes.

The old man chuckled and said, "A name is just a name. What's so good about it? I've had many names. Some people called me Wang Xu; some called me Wang Chan, Xuanweizi, Ghost Valley Sage..." He sounded indifferent when he talked about himself; he was seemingly unenthusiastic with those titles. 'What?' Darryl felt as if there was a clap of thunder in his mind as his body stiffened, and he felt confused. 'Gho... Ghost Valley Sage?' 'This old man is the Ghost Valley Sage—the most phenomenal person on earth?'

Seti cornered a tall, long white-haired man with a long white beard in white robes. “I will, yes, you and the others must be careful. I do not trust Sheamus Ainsley, nor the company he keeps.” Leif patted Seti on the back as he turned to slowly leave. Leif was the oldest man living in the kingdom, he had a long face, long narrow nose, and small black eyes. His white robes drug the floor as he walked with a bad limp carrying his staff.

said the old man while stroking his long beard up to his knees. His wrinkled face showed how old the man was. His body was hunched over and had a tanned skin color. A long black robe with a unique tree-shaped symbol sweeping across the floor was his trademark. This man was one of the most renowned healers in the entire country. On the other hand, he was also Winter and Nevada’s teacher as a child. “Greetings to you, Master Fang,” Winter said with a tone of anxiety and fear. This made the great master stare at Winter with an astonished look. It was unusual for Winter to show his emotions.

A dog howled and whined loudly inside the cabin, alerting the people who had broken in. A split second later, the doorknob twisted and the massive wooden door groaned open. A short man with beady eyes and a scruffy beard gazed out at them from the other side. His white hair was casually arranged atop his wide face and head. His facial hair was patched with grey streaks here and there. The lumberjack image was completed by the man's farmer shirt and Levi's pants. He looked like he was in his seventies.

for sure. I was still trying to figure out where the smells were coming from when I noticed the thick, white smoke in the air. The smoke took on the shape of a person. I took two small steps back and tightened up, getting ready to kill whatever it was. When the smoke cleared, a very, very black old man stood in front of me. He wore pure white clothes that looked like sheets on his body. He has long hair and beards that are both pure white and grey. He doesn't have any black hair or beard. He looked right at me and grinned.

The senior physician was called master Wu Quibai, an old man whose hair was all white. The eyebrows, nose hair and fine hair on his hands also have a grayish white color indicating that the man has at least reached a fairly old age. Physician Wu asked Zhou Fu to sit down while he cleaned up the blood on Zhou Fu's head. There was silence for a while, only when Wu Quibai was about to stitch Zhou Fu's scalp did he start a conversation. “Young man, what is your name?” he asked in a voice pleasing to the ear, soft and conciliatory.

A Shaman! He was older, his hair a wild cascade of gray, his beard a tangled mess of unkempt strands. A sharp, pointed mustache lent his face a sinister, aristocratic edge despite the rags he wore. His garments were strange, marked with ancient symbols and hand-painted patterns that whispered of forgotten, macabre rituals. He looked ancient, but I knew better than to trust appearances. Shamans wore age like a mask, their shabby exteriors concealing a power that ignored time.

His hair is tied into a man bun at the back of his head and his beard is thick and bushy; all he’s missing is an axe and pile of wood. “Oh great, it's Paul Bunyan of the shifter world," I sigh sarcastically. I start to walk away from him when his booming laugh fills the surrounding area. I stop with just a few steps under my feet and turn back to see the man standing with a small grey wolf; it's not growling or snapping at me though so I take that as a win.