A Bad Day In the Life of a Rogue

2008 April 3
by Stupid Ranger

Today was just one of those days when you realize you should have listened to your mother when she tried to convince you to become a cleric. Things started out great; the mayor finally left town on a short vacation to visit her family, and I finally got the chance to sneak into her home and take a look around. But that’s where the good luck ran out!

First, the tip of my best lock pick bent as I was about to open the back door. Just as I was trying to figure out what to do next, the constable wandered down the alley. Now, me and the constable have had our run-ins, but this… this was bad. Usually he only suspects I’ve been lurking where I shouldn’t have been; this time he actually saw me.

Not realizing yet how much worse this day could get, I figured I could talk my way out of a lengthy stay as the constable’s guest. After all, what good’s a silver tongue if it doesn’t keep you out of trouble every once in awhile. So I started reminiscing about last year’s harvest festival and the constable’s remarkable performance at the archery contest. We started to wander back down the alley, and as we walked, I discretely dropped my lock pick in a shadowy spot next to a small pile of debris, knowing I could always come back to get it later when the constable was occupied somewhere else.

Just as it looked like I would get off with only a warning, I felt a slight tug on my pant leg. I looked down to see a street urchin gazing up at me with her big, bright eyes. “You dropped this,” she said in an innocent voice, and, to my horror, she held out my lock pick. The constable’s eagle eyes had no problem discerning what she was returning to me, and putting two and two together, he was no longer so keen to share his archery secrets. Instead, he marched me along to the jail.

It was too much to hope that my bad day would end there. Once back at the jail, the constable took all my picks, as well as the other various tools of my trade. And, of course, my belt pouch. Now, I don’t normally carry much with me… coins can make too much sound during inconvenient moments. But I had been out late the night before, plying my craft at the tavern where a “good game of cards” is always fun (for me); I hadn’t had the chance to add my current bounty to my savings. The constable, of course, decided that my earnings just about covered my crime and confiscated all of my gold. He told me that after another day in jail, I would be able to wander free… under his watchful gaze. I couldn’t decide which was more upsetting: the loss of my coins or the addition of the constable to my every day life.

I’m beginning to think that the life of a cleric might not be a bad idea, even it if sounds rather dull. Maybe a mage would be a better option… surely there’s a great spell to open locks without having to rely on picks.

3 Responses leave one →
  1. Greenvesper permalink
    April 4, 2008

    🙂 I love the street urchin bit.

  2. Yax permalink
    April 6, 2008

    Rogues secretly enjoy all the trouble that comes with the profession, don’t they?

  3. Stupid Ranger permalink
    April 6, 2008

    Greenvesper: Thanks! 🙂

    Yax: I think rogues enjoy that extra attention… but they would never admit it to anyone else!

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