Samantha Stonegully was amazingly pleased with how things were going.
The dwarven rogue had spent years trying to achieve that one big score. Years of pickpocketing dirty magazines and chew toys, of opening lockboxes only to find a few coppers and some old leaves, of sneaking through crumbling catacombs, wading through vile swamps, and searing her fair skin to a crisp under the desert sun. All in pursuit of this.
At last, she'd found it. A treasure trove for the ages -- enough to keep her in luxury for a lifetime. Her vault in the Ironforge bank overflowed with it. Gold coins stacked to the ceiling. Bushels of sparkling jewels. Bolts of priceless cloth. She'd almost gotten it semi-sort-of-legally, even.
Hefting one of the ruby-filled urns into the vault, she caught a glimpse of herself in the polished golden surface. She looked good. Flame-red hair tied back in a braid, eyes the color of honey, and a fantastic build. While other dwarves stuffed themselves with sausage and guzzled down mug after mug of beer, she'd abstained, keeping herself slender and stealthy. Oh, she was still curvy -- that was a given for dwarfs -- but the black leather of her working clothes hugged trim, toned curves rather than the doughy rolls so many of her sisters and brothers sported.
Although now that I've got enough money to retire, she reflected, I suppose I don't have to be so careful. Finally, she could let loose and eat whatever she wanted.
On the other hand, perhaps it wasn't time to relax just yet. She'd made a lot of enemies in her day. Perhaps it was time to visit a local mage, someone who could help disguise her distinctive looks, so she could enjoy her 'retirement' in peace. Hmm...
After a moment, Sam grinned. She'd made up her mind.
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