Posts Tagged ‘sword’

Matador by Darksilvania

Matador by Darksilvania

Look at all these people, cheering and waving for little old me. What an amazing day. I can’t wait to tell my kids.
Ouch. That fucking hurt. What did you poke me for? Right. I’ll fucking show you. Now you’re in the shit big time. You’re not getting away with this.
Stop jumping around, you pussy. Quit waving that red thing. It’s annoying. Stay still and I’ll fucking have you.
Ouch, stop poking me!
So tired. So dizzy. Can’t see anything. Is that blood in my eyes? Knees buckling.
Are you kidding? A sword?!
This is bullshit!

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.

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.

Preparing for Battle by F1yMordecai on DeviantArt.com

Takeko roared with exhiliration as she thrust her ko-naginata into the nearest soldier. The weapon was an extension of herself, used with deadly precision. She sliced through skin and muscle, plunging and twisting the blade with fervour, before pulling the ko-naginata free and piercing the next enemy.

Takeko stared at the five bodies strewn around her, their blood drenching the battlefield. A wave of euphoria swept over her, mingled with a numb feeling in her chest. She looked down to see a wound from a tanegashima. An excruciating burning sensation enveloped her and her world faded to black.

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.

Her Fall by moroka323 on DeviantArt.com

From behind, I cut her a wide, red smile – so angry was I that she had dared call me rogue. She is the daughter of my Lord’s enemy. Her blood now paints my forearm and leg. She exhales her last through folds of flesh parted by my blade. Blood-flecked spittle sprays, and the sound echoes in my mind. I am dead once word of my failure reaches the King. He’ll have my head boiled and spiked outside his gate, a warning to others about self control. There’s no place to hide. With one swift slash, two lives have ended.

King slayer by Suzanne-Helmigh on DeviantArt.com

The siege lasted a fortnight. Now, all had perished except them. He had escorted the Earl, Countess and the boy up the north tower steps. Before dawn, rhythmic pounding and Germanic shouts foretold their doom. Now, a barbarous roar as the tower door below crashes inward.

Sir Gareth of Sussex waits. Across the stone room, the royals cower in a dark corner. The grunts and growls grow louder as they ascend — shouts Edmund doesn’t understand but knows they mean death.

He spreads his stance, gripping the longsword with both hands. The first is nearly decapitated, but there are so many.

Fallen from Grace by treijim on DeviantArt.com

Yallen was unarmed, but he would prove that a weapon doesn’t make a man.
Screams from the tavern signaled that the slaughter had begun. Through the door he saw old Marta vomit red steel.
A warrior laughed as he removed his sword from the back of her head.
“Yaaarrrggghhh!” screamed Yallen, and he ran into the fray, swinging a fist and smacking the invader’s metal-clad chest.
The bloody sword came around and sliced off the top of Yallen’s head. As he fell dying, he thought only that he had proven what an unarmed boy could do.

Regicide by thomaswievegg on DeviantArt.com

The door was jammed. He could hear noise inside. Sounds of struggling, of fighting. His heart pounded against his ribcage, eyes watered and dampened his cheeks. The village was in flames at his back, townsfolk screamed into the sky, cursing, wishing, regretting. The King’s death rattle sounded like a siren through the thick wooden door and he stopped thrusting his shoulder against it. It was over. He looked down at his blade, sopping with crimson, and his lips turned down — a bandit who once broke bread with the king.

Bloody Day by BloodyZone on DeviantArt.com

She woke.
It was so dark that she felt she hadn’t opened her eyes. She stumbled to her feet and lost her balance, landing in a heap again. The ground, hard and cold, felt wet to the touch. She tried to look at her hand in front of her face but could see nothing. The silence choked her and circled her like a pitch black shadow of a hyena. She could smell rusted metal, bitter and wretched, and felt the wetness drying a little on her fingertips.
A sound, like a sword pulled from its sheath. True silence.