The Thief

You’ve heard them, sitting around the campfire. Bragging about this battle or that, or about how their gods are smiling on your merry band. You count your coins and smile to yourself—this is the thrill above all. You alone know the secret of Dungeon World: filthy, filthy lucre.

Sure, they give you lip for all the times you’ve snuck off alone, but without you, every one of them would have been dissected by a flying guillotine or poisoned straight to death by some ancient needle trap. So let them complain. When you’re done with all this delving you’ll toast their heroes’ graves.

From your castle. Full of gold. You rogue.