The first story of the Rogue Legion, by Cloaked. Originally posted on the official rogue forums, here.
The blindfold and the cloth gag are untied; the prisoner of war slowly opens their eyes and comes to, finding themselves in a stone room with only a table and a few chairs – that, and several notable rogues, most of whom were only thought to be rumors. In addition, prisoner’s hands, arms, and legs are bound: chances of escape, let alone surviving, are slim to none.
“What’s it look like, Verelyse?” asks a blood elf, her long auburn hair flowing liberally behind her.
The tanned, black-haired blood elf, Verelyse, stands from her seat and walks over to the table in front of the prisoner. “A human female with dark skin and red hair…” Verelyse nods. “Identity confirmed. Caera, it looks like we’ve got our suspect.”
From seemingly nowhere, a gnome jumps onto the table and looks the prisoner dead in the eye. “I say we KILL HER! KIIIIIILL HEEEEEER!”
Verelyse’s hand settles on the gnome’s shoulder. “Settle down, Gyro; we’ve still got plenty of questions for this one.” Gyro spits on the prisoner and jumps off of the table.
“Heh… as if I’d tell you guys jack. You might as well heed the gnome’s words and ki-” before the prisoner can finish, she takes a crucial blow – a powerful smack across the face.
“If anyone’s gonna ask questions around here, it’s gonna be us, you little @#%$,” says a brazen woman – another human – who is of a lighter complexion than the prisoner with black hair of the same style.
“I didn’t ask any que- oof! Stop smacking m- oof!”
“Looks like we’ve got us a live one,” speaks a night elf in a soft voice, the brim of her hat covering her eyes, “But I think I’d prefer you not smack her so much that she can no longer enunciate, Snoz.”
Snoz gives the prisoner what is perhaps the coldest glare that has ever been given before wandering off elsewhere. Meanwhile, a goblin begins inspecting the prisoner’s belongings. “Heeey, she’s got some mon’nay!” says the money-hungry rogue, pocketing a significant amount of gold. “Sheevah’s gonna be riiich, Sheevah’s gonna be riiich…” she sings quietly and happily.
“Hey, that’s mine!”
“And you are ours, little human.” The deep voice that spoke comes from a dark corner of the room; from that corner emerges a forsaken rogue whose face is mostly cover.
The other rogues clear a path as he walks through. Despite her grievous rogue training, the only thing the prisoner can gather about him was that his eyes were dark, devoid of any soul or emotion. She tries her best to maintain her composure.
“Can… can you see me? You have no eyes…” the prisoner asks nervously.
“I see many things…” The forsaken rogue continues to approach her slowly, staring her intently into her eyes. She is gradually becoming more confused – more afraid.
“You don’t scare me… I eat rogues like you for breakfast,” the prisoner scoffs.
“What a coincidence; I partake in cannibalism now and then as well,” says another forsaken rogue, this one female, from the far left of the room. The prisoner averts her eyes momentarily to try to catch a glimpse of the figure.
By the time she turns back, the first forsaken rogue is just at the other end of the table. She shivers, clearly intimidated.
“Are you… afraid?” he asks, his stance and glare unwavering.
“Could you blame her?” Caera says, “Even as long as I’ve known you, Haileaus, sometimes you still send a chill down my spine”
A low exhale can be heard from behind Haileaus’ mask; afterwards, his face slowly turns to Caera. “That… is what makes a rogue.” He turns and returns to his corner of the room. The prisoner’s shoulders relax.
“I’ve heard of you… I’ve heard of all of you! Verelyse, Caera, Backstabi, Gyroscope, Haileaus, Sheevah, and Snitz…”
“Snoz! It’s Snoz! Do I have to smack a @#$% again?!”
“S-Snoz! ” the rogue looks around and observes all of the fierce presences, both aggressive and rational, that she has seen. “You are… The Rouge Legion… The Rouge Legion is real?!”
Verelyse nods; Caera takes a step toward the table. “Now, as for you, Keorics…”
“WAIT A MINUTE!” yells a high-pitched voice from above. Through a secret opening in the roof, a pale, dark-haired blood elf falls, flips once, and lands lightly on the table. She looks up, and her gaze is immediately fixed onto Keorics. “You…”
“You…” Keroics’ face quickly turns sour. “Cloaked…”
“WHY DID YOU NOT ANNOUNCE CLOAKED’S NAME WITH THE REST OF THE LEGION?! Cloaked is a part of the legion, too, y’know.”
“Hmph, hardly. How’d you even get in here?”
Cloaked’s brow furrows and her eyes become ferocious. She grabs her dagger from a sheath on her hip and holds it up to Keroics’ chin. “Would you like to see?”
“Hah, as if. You probably couldn’t even kill me all tied-up like this! You, of all the members, have no notable credentials.”
Cloaked looks at Keroics for a while before returning her dagger to its sheath. “You’re right: nobody knows of anything Cloaked has done. Cloaked’s name is but a word to most.” Cloaked turns around and walks away from the table. “And soon, yours will be nothing more than a memory.”
Cloaked turns around to look at the prisoner, but all that’s in the chair are the ropes she was tied in. “Where’d she go?”
“Cloaked!” Backstabi yells; Cloaked quickly turns to find a knife being hurled at high velocity in her direction. With a minor repositioning of her head, she catches the knife with her teeth.
“Are you shill doubting Cloaked’sh skill?” Cloaked mumbles, her speech hardly hindered from the dagger in her mouth.
Keroics was found and is being physically restrained by Gyroscope and Caera; everyone, including Keroics, looks at Cloaked curiously.
“Cloaked…” Verelyse sighs and covers part of her face with her palm. “Really?”
Keroics bursts out laughing. “Fitting that a circus freak like yourself would catch a knife in your mouth.”
“Cloaked ish not a circush freak!”
Caera sits down in a chair near the table and crosses her legs. “Cloaked… no one can understand you bec-”
“Cloaked KNOWSH that no one understandsh her! Cloaked hash come to termsh wifth that.” Cloaked crosses her arms.
“No, you fool, it’s because there’s a knife in your mouth,” Backstabi says while shaking her head.
Cloaked flips her head back and throws the knife up, then catches it in her hand. “Hmph. Cloaked will never be understood.”
“The hell are you talking in third-person?” Keorics asks snarkily.
“FOOL!” Cloaked throws the knife swiftly; it cuts a small lock of Keroics’ hair off. “There is only one Cloaked. There are not three.”
Verelyse stands up and clears her throat. “If we could begin this interrogation…”
Caera’s fingers and thumb rub her temples. “I second that.”
“Hmph. Cloaked is too busy for these ‘interpretations.’ Cloaked will be… somewhere.” Cloaked takes a few steps back and gradually disappears into the darkness.
“… Hey,” a deep voice says.
“Yeah, what’s up Hail?”
“This is my dark corner…” Haileaus replies, “Go find your own.”
Cloaked steps out of the dark corner angrily, then finds one at another part of the room. “Cloaked will be… somewhere.” She slowly backs into the dark corner.
“Ya be gettin’ a little too close for comfort, Cloaked.”
“Ah jeez, where’d you come from, Kiwe?” Cloaked leaves the corner yet again.
“I been here the whole time, waitin’ ta see if Keorics be havin’ a fightin’ chance; if I see she be givin’ us trouble, I handle da business.”
Cloaked, now completely frustrated, heads to another corner of the room. Before she can reach halfway, a familiar voice yells out. “Don’t even come over here. This is the 2000+ corner, no PvE heroes allowed.”
“DAMMIT! FINE! Cloaked will go upstairs!” Like a child who just had their bottle taken away, Cloaked stomps through the Rouge Legion and heads up the wooden stairs.
Keorics struggles to contain her laughter. “So, this is a typical day for the Rouge Legion, huh? You guys aren’t nearly as tough as all the rumors say.”
“WE ARE TOO!” Cloaked yells from upstairs. “ESPECIALLY Cloaked!”
“ENOUGH!” yells a deep, rough voice; Keroics suddenly feels a strong presence behind her. “Keroics… you WILL tell us… EVERYTHING you know…” The worgen man from behind her growls in a low tone.
“T-Twitch…” Keorics shivers, feeling the worgen’s hot exhales along her neck.
The worgen draws his dagger and licks its side. “Now… I’LL show you how to make a prisoner squeal…” he laughs manically.