Posts Tagged ‘blood’

Fighting Bull by dumont on DeviantArt.com

Antonio struggled to breathe.  

His guts were spilling out but he did not panic. He had always fought with honor and respect for tradition. He would die as many of the bulls had, with grace.

A young, spindly man knelt beside him. “So what do you think?”

“He was the greatest I have ever faced. I stabbed him with many swords. I danced with him for an entire day. He never tired.”

“Awesome! It’s all robot bulls from here on out. Thanks for beta testing. Here’s an Amazon gift card for your trouble.”

Antonio wished he had Prime, but alas.

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ZOMBIE by Metalinvasor on DeviantArt.com

The knob jiggled; Katie positioned herself near the door. There was a second of silence before it flew open in an explosion of splinters. Katie swung her bat, but the intruder ripped it out of her hands, and smashed her skull with one nauseating crack.

I buried my axe into his neck before he could turn around. He dropped beside her, bleeding out onto the floor.

Another man entered. We quickly assessed each other.

He held out his hand. I grabbed my supplies before accepting it, and followed him out.

And that’s how I met your father.

Paizo monster – Mosquito Monster by DevBurmak on DevinatArt.com

The government’s solution to the mosquito pandemic buzzed in Dr. Meyer’s lab.

“Genetic manipulations, controlled releases, the parasites will soon be extinct,” said General Shaw, leading an assembly into the lab. “Right, doctor?”

Through his hazmat suit, Dr. Meyer said, “This plague will soon end.”

“When shall we release them?”

“Now.” Meyer pressed a remote. Dark swarms flew from trap doors. Huge, aggressive, bloodthirsty, they attacked the visitors. “You ask me to orchestrate their genocide?” shouted Meyer amidst screams. “This species predates the dinosaurs. The hubris!”

He stepped over desiccated corpses, opened a window, releasing the swarm. “Eliminate the parasites!”

ambush by tahra on DeviantArt.com

Three of us remain: he and she and I. I want him, so I lie in wait, crouched in shadow near the only fresh-water source for miles.

The sky is as gray as the land, with a wide ellipse of turbulent crimson, dotted with darker gray — always churning.

She comes, bucket in hand, and I leap from the darkness, slashing with my scythe. Gouts of blood float in seeming slow-motion as she falls to the ground — gray on red on gray again.

I’ve won, securing for myself the second-to-last man on earth by elimination of the last woman.

Monk by PointLineArea on DeviantArt.com

“I am bigger,” laughed Takamasa.
“True, but answer,” Masasada slashed, nicking Takamasa’s forearm, “how does one bring down Fuji-san?”
Takamasa winced and squinted as he considered the question. He thrust his sword forward, but it was knocked aside by Masasada’s thinner blade.
Masasada struck and drew blood. Before Takamasa could react, Masasada opened up another slit on Takamasa’s arm.
Masasada smiled. “One chop at a time. You see?” He slashed again and opened Takamasa’s shoulder. Blood sprayed and Takamasa dropped to his knees.
“Patience is a virtue,” whispered Takamasa, respectfully.
Masasada thrust down and inward. “Patience is a weapon.”

Samurai Spirit 5 – Slasher by Artgerm on DeviantArt.com

Taneshige turned, avoiding a slash. He brought his sword around, clipping Amano’s neck, causing a fan of blood to issue forth. Taneshige ducked, but could not avoid the spray. Dripping blood, wide-eyed, showing teeth, he raised his weapon and ran through the yard. Fearless Samurai turned and fled this Hellspawn. Taneshige turned a corner and slashed at a low, black shadow. His sword slipped from his blood-slick grip and he missed his mark. It was a good thing. His master’s daughter stood before him, quaking in her sandals, her robe split by the keen, crimson blade, but her flesh unmarred.

Seedpaining 033110 by godofwar on DeviantArt.com

“If you do not do,” says Master, “still you have done.”
I grow tired of this. He sees me frown.
Master smiles.
I am a warrior. A Samurai.
“If you do not teach,” I smirk, “still you have taught.”
His brows come together, questioning. His head is cocked. His hand clasps my wrist and squeezes.
He holds my gaze. His thumb presses.
My blade drops and lands softly on the rushes.
“Were you a true Samurai,” he lectures, “you would have faced me fairly.”
I taste steel, then blood.
“You would be Rōnin?” he hisses.

Daimyo by ISOTXART on DeviantArt.com

Ashikaga was tasked with eradication of the pirate threat. The Daimyo looked upon his men, weak and afraid, wide-eyed in the face of pirate-rage. He knew he must set an example. He rushed into the melee, and slashed the flesh of a burly pirate, even before his Katana had fully cleared its scabbard. The ugly brute fell to the sand as Ashikaga’s second in command stomped on his throat. The men rallied. Hands, an arm, ears and bits of flesh littered the sand, and Ashikaga was filled with pride as his Elite proved themselves and showed honor to their Daimyo.

Seppuku by Rlkahwe4kl on DeviantArt.com

“You fade, Lord. Allow me to do what I must.”

“I cannot!”

“You would die in bed? It is not fitting!”

The daimyo clasped Yamatso’s hand. “I will die. It is enough.”

“Leave my husband be,” the Lady hissed.

Yamatso grimaced. “Out of respect, I have stayed my blade, oni. No more!”

His wakizashi flashed and found her stomach. The Lady screamed. Her face twisted; a snake’s tongue whipped between her fangs. Yamatso twisted the blade. She collapsed, spewing yellow blood.

The daimyo stirred. “What have you done!?”

“Now you shall recover.”

“Commit seppuku!”

Fishing Swiftly by SpooningFairy on DeviantArt.com

Pondside, Mitsuo gripped his bamboo pole. Not a bite.

A soft tread from behind. Ronin bandit!

“Nothing here to steal,” said Mitsuo, not turning. “Haven’t even caught dinner.”

The footsteps neared. Mitsuo sighed. “Please. You’ll disturb the fish.”

The rasp of steel on scabbard.

Mitsuo rolled, a blade clipping his earlobe. Mitsuo spun the fishing pole, parrying another slash. The pole snapped. Mitsuo jabbed upward with the bamboo. The bandit grabbed his throat, croaking. Blood gushed from his windpipe. He splashed backward into the river.

Mitsuo watched bloody ripples rock the reeds. At this rate he’d never catch a fish.