Zoro Swords Tattoo Novels & Stories

It was the movement of a shadow detached from its source, a predator that had forgotten the limitations of bone and muscle. As he stood, the mud didn't cling to him; it seemed to recoil, as if the very earth was afraid of the cold that now radiated from his skin. The violet light in his eyes wasn't a flicker of life; it was a steady, lethal glow that seemed to eat the surrounding dimness. The new Void-Wolf mark on his chest was pulsing with a black, oily ink that writhed under his skin, seeking something to consume. It looked less like a tattoo and more like a wound that refused to heal. "Dante?" I whispered. My voice was a shredded thread, barely audible over the hum of the dying refinery.

Because I remembered the symbol on Zara’s hand the night she was born I remembered the gold light. And now I was staring at the same damn symbol carved into stone centuries before she was born. “Lord,” I muttered quietly. Zero frowned beside us. “Marcus…” I walked closer. The figure’s chest carried a circular marking carved deep into the stone. A crescent moon split through the middle by three claw marks. My blood ran cold. “What is this?” Karin stared between me and the wall carefully. “You recognize it.” I didn’t answer him immediately. Macha’s words echoed through my skull again. You think the girl belongs to wolves? Fuck.

The artist was a punk rock girl named Zoe who didn't ask questions when I told her I needed them to last at least two months. "What kind of look are you going for?" she asked while setting up her equipment. "Bad girl. Someone who's been around the block and doesn't take crap from anybody." Zoe grinned. "I can work with that." She gave me a dragon wrapped around my left forearm, a skull with roses on my right shoulder, and a compass with "Lost but not Broken" underneath it on my lower back. The tattoos looked completely real and would fool anyone who didn't try to scrub them off.

The werewolf calmly removed the bundle from his back, put it on the table and began to unfold it. “I need a scabbard for this sword,” he explained. Zoran stared in amazement at the elegant weapon, the sword was a Wistolian, a witchcraft sword meant for a mage warrior. Almost no one owned such swords, they were presented only to the elite, those whom the supreme sorceress considered worthy ... Once he had been to Vistolz, and even there only a few walked with such weapons. And they were all great masters. Kerton-deso - as they were called, magician warriors, who at the same time masterfully master both the art of combat and witchcraft.

I will know who you are and I will have my answers. I can't sleep, I glance at Corro, his back was facing me topless. My brows furrowed when I saw his tattoo on the back, I saw this just now. It was a sword with blood dripping and a bloody hand was holding it, then below it was a word written Bloodbath.