Novel & Cerita Krogan Without Armor

I'm so fucking dead. "ROGUES!" he shouted and a flurry of footsteps gathered. Over a dozen leather-clad rogues stared at me. Hungry, angry people. The four rogue women were all in their twenties, bright-eyed with thick plaits and braids piled high, acting like hats. The men were all chunky, draped in black leather jackets. Apart from one. Built like a grizzly bear with huge shoulders, maybe a foot taller than the rest. He wore a pelt of thick brown fur, under a thick black body warmer shirt.

Out stepped a figure that defied description. He was seven feet tall but hunched over so severely his knuckles grazed the ground. His skin was gray and patchy, covered in coarse hair. His face was elongated, rat-like, with yellow eyes and teeth that were too big for his mouth. He wore a tattered security uniform jacket that was sizes too small, adorned with bottle caps like medals. This was Grog. The leader. Behind him, dozens of other figures emerged. Some looked like him. Some had scales. Some had extra limbs. They were a carnival of mutations.

Eriyumilai stood proudly between Blake’s legs. Eriyumilai’s sleek, muscular frame was now clad in matching black armor, intricately designed to complement Blake’s suit. The armor was both elegant and functional, with sharp, angular lines that mirrored the pup’s natural strength and agility. Spikes adorned his shoulders, and the chest plate gleamed with a polished finish, offering protection while enhancing his intimidating presence. The pup’s eyes, still bright with youthful energy, now held a fierce determination, his sharp teeth barely visible beneath the armor that covered his strong, battle-ready jaw.

As we arrived at the north end, I was surprised to see four very strong looking rogues standing in front of us. They were not the traditional looking rogues. Rogues were typically weak, scrawny, and often had a stench about them. A stench that was the usual way to identify a rogue. These rogues did not have a scent of any kind. Something was off. I shifted, and grabbed a pair of shorts, as each of the four rogues stood naked in front of us.

The cabin had a plethora of pro-rogue papers, books, and maps, and if Steph’s mother, Maren, was a rogue, and Amaris was involved…. Maybe other rogues knew about it, too. I put Steph behind me as Kellen joined my side. We both bared our teeth but didn’t get confrontational. The last thing we needed was more violence. “What do you want?” I demanded. The rogue was a young man, dark-skinned, dark-eyed. He didn’t look like he meant any harm, but his warning sure as hell wasn’t inviting. “The rogues want you,” he’d said, looking at Steph. Then he’s jerked his chin at me to say, “They’ll kill him to get to you.”

They shifted their weight from one foot to the other, their eyes flickering from one person to the next as they kept a watchful eye on the room. Their uniforms were a testament to their strength and ferocity. They wore thick leather armor that covered their chests and arms, adorned with intricate designs that marked them as members of the Alpha's personal guard. Their boots were made of thick, sturdy leather, and their pants were reinforced with strips of metal to protect them from claws and teeth. As the meeting progressed, the lycan guards remained vigilant, their senses on high alert. They knew that any moment could bring trouble, and they were ready to spring into action at a moment's no

"Anyone who touches Alpha Derek is completely dead!" The loud shout is followed by the sudden arrival of over two hundred huge warriors in black armor, all heavily armed with claws and blades, quickly surrounding the entire Blackfang rogue crew. Rocco turns around fast, his face twisting with deep frustration. "Mr. Stilinski! Why is the Crescent Ridge Territory showing up in such massive force on this border?" With his top Beta wolves flanking his sides, Stiles Stilinski walks proudly out of the crowd. He completely ignores Rocco's face as his boots approach my frame.

Before I could answer, a growl came from behind us. We both turned. Out from the trees, a large shape stepped forward. It moved like a wolf, but its body was too big, too thin, and its fur was clumped together in patches. Its eyes glowed white, and its breathing was uneven, more like a growl with every exhale. A rogue. Kael stepped forward without hesitation. I wanted to help, but I couldn’t risk showing too much strength. My disguise was still the only thing keeping me safe. The rogue lunged first. Kael dodged and slashed at it, cutting its side. The thing barely reacted. It came again, faster this time, claws tearing into the ground.

"Protect the non-combatants! Bottleneck them in the corridors!" Total chaos erupted. Enforcers scrambled to form a living shield around Zoriya, Cayden, Kai, Maeve, and Karla, pushing them toward the heavy iron doors at the rear of the hall. A massive, grey-furred rogue lunged straight for me, its jaws snapping wildly. Before I could even summon the white-hot static in my chest, a blur of solid muscle and silver intercepted the beast. Ronan drove his combat knife deep into the rogue's chest, throwing the heavy body aside with a brutal grunt.

When they reached the ridge overlooking the east patrol path, they halted. Below, the scene was chaos. Three pack warriors were surrounded by a group of cloaked figures—rogues, by the look of them. One of the intruders stood out, taller, with glowing red eyes and a strange insignia across his chest. Killian bared his teeth. “Bloodfang rogues.” Seraya’s breath caught. “But they haven’t crossed borders in years.” “They have now.” He shifted mid-stride, his massive black wolf leaping into the fray with a snarl that made the trees tremble. Seraya followed suit, her silver wolf smaller but swift, slicing through the shadows like moonlight.