Rogue Artwork Novels & Stories

“I hope that doesn’t make you angry.” “No,” Hayden replied as he parted her hair to see a deep cut on her scalp from her hair being slammed on the floor. He wrinkled his nose, not out of disgust at seeing the wound, but at why Krista had it. “I’m not angry because you don’t want to be my mate instantly.” He sighed and continued. “If I’m honest with you, I always thought my mate would reject me at first sight. Most people don’t like to be around a rogue for any reason.” “Most rogues aren’t like you,” Krista said. She closed her eyes for a moment and asked, “Do you think I can lie down until we are ready to leave?”

“Did you have fun leaving a scar on the face of your enemy?” “Yes, I did,” she keeps shaking like a fucking leaf over what has been displayed before her. People from other regions aren't fucking used to how bloody we, the Rogues can be. We are destructive and messy. Rough and most of us are street dogs. We hunt whatever and whoever we see as prey. This is part of our pride. But lately, every Rogue has been on the low since Alpha Arkon took over his father. He has changed a lot of our policies, creating boredom in our region. He is too soft-hearted as an Alpha. And this is why he must have me by his side as his Luna.

My bones cracked and elongated, and sun-gold fur sprouted from my body. I panicked for a moment and worried that a vicious rogue had wandered here looking for prey, but then remembered rogues have a specific scent. A rogue is a lone wolf that has been disowned by his pack or is unclaimed by a pack. This scent, however, hit me like a truck. I began to tense as the scent washed over us. It was like sandalwood, whiskey, and cedar. The most intense earthy aroma, that put the scent of the forest around me to shame. I shook my head trying to clear my senses and figure out which direction it was coming from. As I padded forward closer to the trees the outline of a massive navy-grey wolf stepped

he said, nodding toward me. My stomach tightened. “Explain.” “They have an artefact,” the rogue said with his voice trembling. “Something tied to the Wolf mother’s lineage. They believe it will amplify their power if they can use it in a ritual. But to activate it, they need your blood.” A heavy silence fell over the group. The thought of being used in another witch’s ritual sent a wave of anger through me. “What kind of artefact?” I asked. The rogue shook his head. “I don’t know exactly. A relic of some kind. But the witches are desperate to get their hands on you. And they’re willing to destroy this pack to do it.”

A Rogue. A Rogue is a werewolf without a pack. They often kill any werewolf they encounter; may it be a member of a pack or a similar rogue, like them. They are vicious plunderers. And that same vicious plunderer is right in front of me, deviously smiling. “Others cannot dodge my attack so easily like that. You’re quite good, pup.” He praised me, but I don’t feel good that he did so at all. I’m scared. “W-who are you, Mister?” I tried to sound brave, but aside from stuttering, my voice also cracked.

On the altar sat an artifact—a shard of blackened crystal, its surface veined with molten gold. The rogues encircled it, chanting in low, guttural tones. Their voices felt like nails scraping against the edges of my mind, and I forced myself to focus. "That’s it," Aria whispered. "The cursed artifact." I nodded grimly. "But look at them—they’re not just experimenting. They’re worshiping it." --- As we watched, one rogue stepped forward, removing their hood. A woman with striking silver hair and piercing blue eyes raised her hands, silencing the others.

I am twenty years old, and I have been a rogue my whole life. I don't know who my parents are. I don't know if they are dead or alive or if they ever wanted me. I don't know anything about where I came from. All I know is that I have been on my own since before I can remember, stealing and lying and fighting just to stay alive. That is what rogues do. We do the dirty work. The illegal work. The work that packs do not want to admit needs doing. In return, we get money, food. A chance to see another day.

There's this strong urge inside of me that wants me to protect her. I shake my head and look up at Artis to reply. "Wolves. Rabid wolves. They are called rogues and they smell like rotten flesh. I don't know what they were doing here but it's obvious they wanted the Princess." Rogue wolves are werewolves that had gone insane and got stuck in their wolf form. They are wild and ferocious. "Could it be her father who sent them?" Oric asks and I shake my head. "No. He loves his daughter."

he sighed in disappointment then without any single doubt, he threw the knife to the first fallen rogue. It landed perfectly on its heart which made it roar for a few seconds before it completely died. But that was not the only thing that Vladimir did to the first fallen rogue, he appeared to its dead body. Instead of taking the knife off its body, he dragged it deeply and down till it reached its belly button before he twisted it up to form a letter ‘V’ onto its body. “That’s nice.” Vladimir looked at his artwork and he turned to the fallen rogue behind him. It was angry as it was trying to break from its chain but it couldn’t since there was a fear that began to crawl beneath its skin. Vla

Chapter song: Break stuff by Limp Bizkit Unknown POV Pathetic damn ROGUE!!! That bitch has ruined EVERYTHING!!!!!! I pace back and forth in this stinking cave because I was in hiding! My plan is falling to pieces because the dumb rogue couldn't even kill a stupid 6 year old BOY!!!!! Since that bitch and her witch friends killed all my people, I have been waiting. Just waiting for the day that I can get the heir to be vulnerable. Killing his stupid son will destroy the line FOREVER!!!!