Short Story Sample
Wandering Rogues
The wandering Rogues, true to their name, never intended to settle down. With no heart for the plight of others, they found sincere enjoyment in traveling up and down south Mediah and mugging every traveler they could find.

Nefarious though they may seem, these were the ways of Mediah—a lawless land of various races that never quite figured out how to live together. Each group followed its own code, and the only thing that mattered was looking out for your own.
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The Rogues never wanted to change their way of life, but the Three Days of Darkness flipped everything on its head. Reeling from personal losses and a new terror that no group was equipped to deal with, they occupied a plot of land nearby Tarif and established a den. Tarif had been especially devastated from Illezra’s onslaught, particularly for those who helped raise her there. The Rogues were consequently able to move in with relative ease. A lone scout from Tarif had found the den soon after it was established but was never heard from again.
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This caused Ahonia Kirus, the Chief of Tarif, to establish a group of villagers and sorceresses as town guards. It wasn’t much, but she predicted this would be a prime opportunity for would-be intruders.
With bolstered defenses she sent a party to investigate the nearby area, and they were able to find and report about the Rogues’ den. However, not all was as it seemed.
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The scouting party returned because the rogues were no longer aggressive; they didn’t even seem particularly prepared to attack the village. But above all, their skin had turned black, and their eyes a sinister red. The evidence was clear. The Rogues had succumbed to the Dark Energy.
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The horse of the lone scout appeared in the village the next day. Though the horse was without the scout, it brought back with it a number of crumpled pieces of paper stuffed into a small sack. A quick look by one of the sorceresses revealed them to be scrolls, apparently with spells inscribed onto them by the Wandering Rogues. One scroll in particular carried an ominous message:
“Our skin, soaked in darkness. Our eyes, drenched in the Goddess’ fury. Watch as the Crescent Moon turns! For our powers reborn shall not be restrained, as they are proof of our undying loyalty.”