I always enjoyed the night. It provided me covering darkness, people slept and left their treasure unprotected, and the cool night air was always pleasant. I guess the night got tired of me taking advantage of it, for today it became my enemies ally.
Some people like to call me a thief, but I always preferred to think of myself as a charming rogue. I mean, sure, I DO steal things, and I AM pretty sneaky, but I'm not such a bad person. Usually the dungeons I rob are owned by evil kings. And anyway, why are they keeping valuables in the dungeons? Especially in wooden barrels and ceramic vases, you wouldn't believe the stuff I have found in those. I've even found more loot than I can carry in seemingly abandoned caves, strangely dotted between the cave trolls and giant rats, almost like I was being rewarded by killing off these deadly pests.
Anyway, all-in-all, I'm not really a bad man. Perhaps I have killed a bandit or two, but I am no murderer. I have never killed an innocent man, and yet here I am, facing the executioners axe, accused of a crime I didn't commit.
It started with that damn sorcerer. I never did like magic wielders, be it clerics, wizards or sorcerers. Most of them started getting cocky when they could still barely light a pipe, but this one was different. He was truly powerful, could hit an ant with a fireblast from 100 yards, and yet he did his best to help people out. He was wise, and kind, but perhaps he was trusted too much. As soon as he accused me of murdering the citizens of this town, people believed him and soon after my time had run out.
When they came for me, I was out in an old castle, long since abandoned due to an apparent haunting. I didn't believe in that nonsense, and I was sure there would be a choice few valuables just waiting to be liberated from their prison. As always, I went out at night, long after most of the towns people had returned to their homes, and snuck into the house. There were a few rats skulking about, but I snuck up and stabbed them in the back one-by-one, leaving me to peruse the various goodies on offer.
I snuck back out the house, only to find myself instantly surrounded. "Grab him!" I heard someone shout, "He's a murderer" from another. I tried to protest, shouted that I'm innocent, but these people were out for blood. Two of their own had been killed, and they wanted blood. My blood, sadly. I tried turning invisible, but there were too many prying eyes, I couldn't fool enough of them to make it by. I was paralyzed by someone, I couldn't see who, and suddenly I was falling to the floor, having been pushed by some barbarian.
Soon a fighter slowly made his way towards me. Wielding an axe I don't think I could lift, never mind swing, I knew this was it. I tried begging, I tried pleading, I may, to my eternal embarrasment if there is an after-life, even have cried a little. The fighter raised his axe high into the air, and in my last moments I saw people eagerly awaiting my death. I didn't deserve that