I lurked outside the opulent castle, keeping out of sight. I'd wait for the heist to be well under way before bursting through the window to join my companions. If I could find them.
Just then, I spotted the head of a short, bearded dwarf hiding in the shrubbery. I thought I recognised him from the grubby drawings I'd received the previous week from our employer, the one who had organised this heist and formed our party.
"Hey, you - dwarf. Nogg, right?" I hissed at him. "Get your ass over here!"
He made a beeline for me, his dark eyes sparkling with fury.
"Shut your hole, elf! We haven't bin a group long enough for you to call me by mah first name," he growled, twirling his own daggers menacingly. At least, that's how he wanted it to appear, I think. He was just tall enough to reach my thighs.
"Why were you hiding in the bushes, you moron?" I snapped, ignoring his threats. Not that I hadn't done it myself, but it was unsavoury behaviour for a non-rogue.
He scuffed his boot against the ground, glaring at me from under his bushy eyebrows.
"I'm the rogue," he said finally. "Have to be late, don't I? Appear in the nick of time and all that."
I stared at him, discomfited. That couldn't be right, of course. I was a rogue. I'd learned roguery at my father's side. I insulted my companions at every opportunity, kept few friends. Was mostly late to events, especially heists.
"Howdy, lads," a slim, red-headed woman said as she dropped down from a nearby tree. She had sparkling green eyes and a wide, mischievous smile.
"Let's get this show on the road. Don't mind me when I slip away to stab someone, alright? Can't help myself, sometimes," she chuckled, pulling out her daggers. Her smile faded when she saw we carried the same blades.
"Well, this can't be right," she muttered, after we explained the situation. "Someone messed up this arrangement. Three rogues will never work! Does anyone know our employer? I'd like to shove a blade right up his ass."
"That'll be me, young lady," a wheezy voice spoke through the gloom. My night vision showed me the stopping figure of an old wizard. He wore dark grey cloaks, and a wild beard obscured most of his features.
"What's the deal?" I barked at him.
"It's hard to get you rogues in one spot," he chuckled, twirling his staff in our faces. "Very tricky, fiendish ingredient to gather."
"Ingredient? What ingredient?" I echoed, frowning as he drew a symbol in the air and muttered to himself. Gods, I hated wizards. Always trying to be ominous, and mysterious, and superior -
"Rogue, of course. Haven't you been listening? It's a complicated spell, will take too long to explain," he grunted, bringing his staff down.
The rogues crumbled to the floor, senseless. The old dark wizard grumbled to himself as he turned them into rabbits, threw them in a bag and stole off into the night. Rogue rabbit stew was delicious, but such a damn hassle to make.