Rogue had been a thief for as long as he could remember, and he thought himself pretty damn good at it. Today was no exception. He had spotted his mark from the back of the crowd gathered to witness the public execution: A rich lady, dressed in fine clothes with a strange outmoded leather pouch tied to her belt which caught Rogue’s eye immediately.
He should have known better – thieving is never easy, especially when your target knows exactly who you are and why you’re there! Rogue soon realized that this wasn’t just any old purse; inside was a hoard of precious gemstones worth more than enough to buy him passage away from this city forever.
But his joy was short-lived; within moments of snatching up the purse, he felt an intense chill run through his body, freezing him in place like ice. A frail and dejected looking beggar looked at him with tearful eyes. He knew what had happened – Rogue had ill-fatedly stolen from a witch…
