Somewhere down below the gaze of a bright robbers moon, within the shadowed maze of buildings and cobbled streets something was creeping. It crept in such a way that actually seemed to negate the very purpose of creeping at all. Something which had long spider-thin limbs that propelled its small round body from shadow to shadow, unconsciously passing through every shaft of moonlight along the way. Large saucer-shaped eyes glowed like street lamps in the darkness of the night, attracting droves of assorted onlookers and flying bugs alike. Indeed all that was missing was a large amount of phosphorous paint, a very big trumpet and an explosive firework display. The onlookers thought to themselves that perhaps the art of creeping should be a little less obvious to the onlooker; in fact maybe it should attract no attention whatsoever and pretty much make it look as though there was actually nobody there. Instead of that.
The creeper's hands were bent at the wrist in a claw-like fashion, whilst the manic tip-toe motion of the feet propelled it along in such a manner that nobody could possibly ignore it. It's name was Pug, a half Goblin half human poster boy for blundering and catastrophe. His chosen profession, at which he was still unofficially in training was situated on the wrong side of the law. He was a robber, cut purse, villain of the highest order and all round scallywag. He only ever did freelance work, hence his need to "creep."
All the laws of nature, and a few nature never even thought of pointed to the fact that Pug should have been perfectly suited to his chosen vocation, from his physical demeanour right down to his sly depraved personality. The only problem was that nature had also seen fit to attach all of this raw talent to Pug's head which in turn gave it access to his brain. This unfortunate problem meant that for Pug, the only thing he would ever really excel at was getting himself and anyone else involved with him arrested.
Pug had earned a substantial reputation in his chosen field, and his name was on the lips of all the dog-eared denizens of the criminal fraternity. The vast elements of crime that teemed within Midville spoke of him in hushed conversations uttered only in dark rooms at midnight, or in tales of legend. At least this is what Pug thought. In reality he was widely regarded as the epitome of the bad luck charm. A pariah to be avoided at all costs and someone to be the furthest away from when a "job" was being lined up. All talks of "jobs" by his peers were quickly changed into conversations about the weather when Pug entered their company. His ineptitude and bungling knew no bounds, and a guaranteed stay at the dungeon was almost pre-determined whenever he was involved. Bearing all this in mind it was safe to assume that Pug worked mostly alone.
Pug flitted from the shadows this way and that, tripping over a curbstone and knocking over a rubbish bin in the process. Everyone watched in amazement as he continued to creep down the road until he came to a dark alley near the entertainment district.