Twisting Blades Rogue Build Novels & Stories

Death was here. Death was staring me in the eyes because all I could see was those dark foreboding eyes, and I winced, fearing that I’d done that as he had me by the hair, fisting down tights. I would die and it would not be quick, at this rate a quick death was better. I was hauled to my feet and tried not to wince again at the burn from my scalp. “Get cleaned up,” the rogue alpha was saying to the general. His eyes dropped to the blood that had soaked through the material wrapped around the general’s hands. “I don’t want any casualties when we go to war.”

He was smart enough to realize he couldn’t take us all alone. The winds from Gus picked up and I watched on as small tornado formed throughout the trees, picking up rogues and throwing them. I saw roots and vines growing up from nowhere, wrapping around rogue’s legs and throats and knocking them out. But the more fearsome thing I saw, was when the first rogue went up in flames. The flames were neon orange, and contained to one rogue at a time. Despite the heavy rain from my mate, these flames persisted until the rogue died and then moved on to another rogue. I made a mental note not to piss off my mate’s father.

“We didn’t want to bring it to you with everything going on in the council. We thought we could manage it.” I turned on him, eyes narrowed. “Stop using that brain of yours and always tell me matters like this.” He lowered his gaze. “Understood.” I exhaled sharply, about to walk away when something glinted in the grass near a thick bush. I crouched again, brushing aside the leaves until I saw it—curved, wicked, and unmistakable. A rogue’s blade. I picked it up carefully, inspecting the bloodstained edge. It wasn’t from any blacksmith in the realm. This was custom-forged—lightweight, designed for speed and silent kills. I could almost taste the lingering energy it radiated.

“I still have to survive the council first. I don’t know much about your world, but it’s obvious that rogues are not liked. I didn’t realize before that I wasn’t only protecting my freedom, I was also breaking your laws.” I might as well begin using the lies needed to build my innocent image. His eyes stayed sharp, and I was not sure he believed me. “Rogues are usually trouble. Without the stability of a pack, they lose control of their beasts. We were not created to live alone. It affects the animal’s instincts and mind. But you are very different. You are one of the most stable rogue shifters I’ve ever seen who has lived without a pack since a young age. I think you’ll be fine.”

I quickly crouched low on the horse's back, hardening my posture and getting into a defensive position. I could see the pure malice in the rogue's red eyes; it clearly planned to jump high and throw me down into the dirt using its body weight. I allowed the beast to launch itself, only when its crazy heavy body crashed down on top of me, I hardened my bones against the impact and forcefully stabbed both pointy edges of my twin-fang blades deep into its abdomen. The beast growled angrily, blood spurting onto my hands, and stepped back a few paces. But it didn't stop. That was the terrifying thing about these creatures. The rogues will just keep coming and fighting blindly until they drop dead

His sharp teeth tore directly into my side, leaving a deep, burning gash across my ribs. “Is that all you've got?” the rogue growled, shaking the blood from his muzzle. I clawed at his eyes, kicking out wildly with my boots until I managed to plant a heavy blow directly against his throat. He gagged, stumbling backward into the brush. The other two rogues hesitated, looking at their injured leader, before they all slowly backed away into the deep trees, realizing I wouldn't be an effortless kill.

Kael settled behind me without needing to be told, his arms coming around me in a motion that felt almost automatic now. “Ready?” Nyra asked. “No,” I said. “Go.” I reached. The second rogue’s mind was different from Marek’s. It's still broken. Still laced with pain and wolfsbane. But where Marek had been mostly spinning chaos—self‑destructive, churning—this one had channels. Blades hidden in the dark. Someone had carved paths into his madness. Guided it. Pointed it. I hit those channels like fingers on broken glass.

I thought I was destined to be alone forever, the life of a Sigma. “Wow!” he said when he saw me enter. “You look beautiful!” I smiled at him. He must be blind, I am nothing to look at, and these clothes are basic at best. Still better than the rags of a Sigma, the rags he is used to seeing me in. My blonde hair is still short, but slowly growing in. It was time for my monthly cut before I left. All Sigmas heads are shaved monthly to take away their beauty.

I need to baby that leg, if I get pushed on it it will give out again and I am at risk if two rogues are over me when fighting. As I continue moving back and forth waiting for them to make the first move, the first rogue runs at me swiping at my front paw. He catches it tearing the skin. As he flies by I catch his neck and slam him to the ground. As the other rogue jumps again on my back, I finish the first rogue off by clawing his stomach; his intestines pour out. He can’t survive that attack and is quickly dying.

Silver blades flashed between bodies and small trees splintered under the force of big bodies slamming into them. I launched myself into the nearest rogue, my jaws closing around his shoulder as we hit the ground. He fought viciously but he didn’t have tact. Rogues relied on their wildness and frenzy while pack warriors had more disciplined and structured training. I broke his leg and moved on as he fell.