Noble Savage Trope Novels & Stories

Zuri wrapped her arms around her own waist, holding herself as if physically trying to keep from falling apart. "One night, the perimeter alarms failed," Zuri continued, her breathing becoming ragged. "A pack of the Savage Men breached the outpost. But they didn't just attack like mindless animals, Mwajey. That is the lie people tell to make the monsters seem less cruel. They retained the vindictive, sadistic nature of the male spirit. They knew exactly what they were doing." Mwajuma’s blood ran cold. She leaned closer, her massive hand hovering near Zuri’s back, wanting to comfort her but afraid of breaking the fragile moment.

Revenge for something I had no single idea about. “Already in tears?” she questioned, “Save it. You will be crying for a very long time and no one will save you. One thing about rogues is that they don’t pursue material things like we do—no. They have very limited desires. The desire to kill and then the desire for sexual satisfaction and that’s what makes them so easy to figure out.” I sobbed silently, the sheer glee on her face even more revolting. “Goodbye Luna Kate, it was nice knowing you.”

“Disappointed?” His gaze flicked to the dirt under my nails, the bruises blooming across my arms. “Impressed,” he said finally. The word sat heavy between us. Raven walked past, throwing her knife into the dirt beside the fire. “Don’t get sentimental, Mason. She’s still got a long way before she’s one of us.” “One of you?” I asked. Raven shrugged. “Rogue doesn’t mean monster. It means survivor. You either learn that or die wishing someone had warned you sooner.”

That was when I found the rogues. They were a larger tribe in the northern territories. Nomadic. The idea of joining them seemed perfect; large enough to go unnoticed by outsiders amongst their numbers, and their nomadic lifestyle meant that I could keep moving, evading Gideon, without having to survive on my own. It should have been simple—an opportunity to rest, to regroup, and to begin planning my next moves. But it was anything but. I was accused of stealing on my first night simply because I had taken a secret second helping of dinner. I was starving, but they didn’t care. In their eyes, I was a newcomer who had taken their resources, and I had to pay.

It wasn't my story to tell, I didn't even know the full story yet. "Freaking rogues” Valerie said, she hated them just like I do. Just like every other wolf. Rogues are wolves that were banished from their packs, for blasphemy; some of the leaft themselves. Being out in the forest, without a pack, it takes their human side slowly, so they become crazed and kill anybody on sight. “So, I'm just going to take a shower and rest, I have to leave in the evening". I say, standing up to go to my room, Valerie didn't stop me this time, she nodded, letting me leave and I sighed in relief.

Maddox said anxiously. I raised an eyebrow. "Don't be swayed by the mate bond, Maddox. Renegades are often cunning, and some like to disguise themselves as fragile and innocent. Don't judge a renegade by its appearance; they're called renegades for a reason, and those reasons aren't always good." I reminded him, but his mind seemed clouded by his sudden love for his mate. He was convinced his mate was good, incapable of the evil of other savage renegades.

Savanna introduces, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. Savanna's words had barely registered in my head but I caught her last words. Pack doctor of the rogues pack?! I gape and my eyes widen in disbelief. The words hit me like a slap. "Wait... I’m in the Rogue Pack?" I ask, my voice trembling. Rogues are supposed to be cruel, merciless, and bloodthirsty vampires, feral wolves who show no mercy, not saviors. I remember I have had my own unfortunate fair share of them these past weeks; I almost died.

"He wouldn't make a bad husband, baby girl." True. Olivia could do worse than Nakos Hunt. With the dark skin tone and black hair of his native Arapaho tribe, combined with solid bone structure and a handsome face, he'd definitely been conceived at the deep end of the gene pool. He was also hard-working, kind, and protective. Too protective, but she shrugged that off.

“Deadly snakes, poisonous plants, water that’s not safe to drink, raging rivers, and worst of all, native rogues.” When he says those last two words, Ginny’s forehead crinkles, and she turns to look at him. “Native rogues?” she repeats in her thick accent. “I don’t know how to say it.” “Wolves that have lived in these parts for thousands of years,” Sanders tells her. “They still think those lands out west are theirs, even though the humans are tellin’ ‘em otherwise.”

Lord Danbury, the man that had been raiding the Princess of Nightway’s realm to feed MidGale City, and inconveniencing The Nauvree in the process, looked up at the man who hadn’t blinked during the interchange. Savage sat quietly watching them. Not reacting, though clearly close enough to hear. He was young. Blonde hair twisted into braids near his face with wood beads strung in them. Kill beads. Each engraved with a kill he was proud of.