Krogan Without Armor Romane & Geschichten

Their eyes burned with determination, their muscles rippling as they dodged and countered the rogue's attacks. I noticed one of the storm pack's warriors, a massive wolf with a scar across his face, his powerful jaws snapping at any rogue that dared come close. On the other side, the rogues were savaging, a disorganized mass of fur and fangs. Their eyes were wild with desperation and rage, and they attacked with reckless abandon. They outnumbered the Storm Pack warriors, but their lack of coordination was evident. Each rogue fought for themselves, lashing out at anything that moved.

“The rogue we managed to capture said something similar.” Sal's eyes went wide. “You guys captured a rogue? That's sick!” A moment of excitement crossed her gaze before she went serious and cleared her throat. “Okay so back to what I was saying, the rogues are essentially mercenaries sent here by someone from another pack. There was a man in charge of these mercenaries, he goes by the name Grog—” “Grog?” Kaiden said, looking pointedly at Bradford, who also had a similar look of surprise on his face.

As Tom would take me from behind, the warm water running down my back as one hand firmly gripped my hip and the other my shoulder. Don't think of him, whatever you do, don't think of him. Tom Bradley was the Alpha of the Rogues, a pack made up of wolves that had been banished from their packs for various reasons. Some valid, but mostly because they were traitors, vicious and untrustworthy. Which made the pack volatile and unruly, and that chaos suited their leader, whose wolf was becoming more and more unhinged. Not the type of wolf the daughter of the alpha of the prestigious Red Crescent Pack should be in company with. But I just couldn’t stay away, I was drawn to his badness like a moth t

We begin pulling away from the other warriors in the pack and we’re fairly far ahead of them as we pass a tree line and break into the space where the rogues are overtaking my patrols. The four of us jump into the fight, tearing into the rogues. Usually rogues are vicious, but untrained. This group seems to have a bit more training than most and are putting up a decent fight, but they are no match for my pack and warriors. We are cutting through them easily, especially since I have three Guardians fighting with me. The pack could have defeated this group without them but having them makes it much more likely that there won’t be casualties on our side.

He nudged his head to the guards and they were on me again, they grabbed my arms and I didn’t bother fighting. A figure was waiting at the hall, blond hair rolled in a messy bun that somehow complemented his high cheekbones that looked like they had never worn a smile before. His dressing was different, a little armored but expensive. Even with all the gold Alpha Kanes took from others, he never did care about the pack guards. And I realized he was the man I would be sold to. He wasn't the rogue Alpha, because the rumors had mentioned his eyes to be dark and lifeless.

I calmly answered his suggestion. Ellias sighed, “So what do we do?” I stared at the forged document again. “We survive. And we watch every moves he will make.” By noon, the reports got worse. A scout came rushing in, panting. “Alpha Aarhea! Rogues hit the northern border! They killed two of our guard warriora before escaping.” My eyes widened, “Any insignia?” I asked. He hesitated, “They wore blank armor, but… the steel pattern was Black Crest make," he answered.

Clair was far too gone to turn back. The skies grew darker, and it was hard to see, but with their special abilities, things weren’t so difficult. Alpha Rogan launched at Ark, slicing his abdomen and making him stumble a few feet back before falling to the ground. Ark watched the sky, but it was dark with no stars or moon. He could not see the light, but deep down, he knew it was not his time. “I told you I would serve your head,” Ark laughed. Alpha Rogan watched his men fall one after the other, and soon, none were standing.

A dozen figures stepped into the dim, flickering light of the station platform. Some were Nulls. Emaciated. Their skin was gray, stretched too tight over sharp bones, mapped with the sores of radiation sickness. They wielded scavenged kinetic pistols—heavy, blocky things that smelled of cheap oil and desperation. Others were Rogues. Lycans who had been out in the Wastes too long. Their fur was matted with clay and dried blood. Their eyes were yellow, jaundiced lamps in the dark. They held lengths of pipe and jagged rebar wrapped in duct tape.

“No, it is a valid question. Are you going to be taking on the rogue wolves on your own, too?” “Nope. You and the rest of the warriors will be nearby. Close enough to come in when I signal, but far enough away that he can’t smell you,” I continued. “If rogues attack, you handle them. The warriors should wear bite-proof armor for the mad rogues. We don’t want…” “No,” Nolan said, cutting me off. I held his gaze, refusing to back down. “I have to go back, Nolan.”