Rogue Apocalypse Meme Novels & Stories

A howl sounds some distance in the front, just at the same time a group of rogues leap out of the bushes. I spring into motion immediately, all my training kicking in. I knock the first one down just before he shifts into his wolf, wrapping the wire around his neck and pulling hard. Suddenly, the clearing is a battlefield. Weapons clash against weapon, rogues fall down. I roll to the side, avoiding the snapping of fangs as a wolf lands where I stood a second ago. From the corner of my eye, I see Ragnar watching it all from the sidelines, like a messenger of death himself.

“And of course, you don’t want to mark me because you don’t want to take your throne back.” “I don’t know what I want to do yet. I have no support. No army. It’s not that easy.” “What about these rogues Monty spoke about? What is a rogue anyway?” “A rogue is a packless wolf. It’s not that easy. Rogues aren’t warriors. By the time I have them trained and ready for a war, Caspian would know and we’d all be dead. Well, not you and me…we’d only wish we were dead.”

They’re barefoot, rail-thin, short and unkempt with clothes torn and stained from weeks, maybe months, in the wild. They’re roasting a boar’s head over an open flame, the smell of charred meat thick in the air. Rum sloshes in dented. metal cups as they throw their heads back, snorting like pigs at their crude jokes. I know them. I’d recognize the stench anywhere. Rogues. That sickly mix of desperation, blood, and madness gives them away every time. No discipline. No order. Just hunger and violence. They're not even wolves anymore, just animals pretending to be men.