image [https://imgur.com/4kLoIKe.png]

Luka surveyed the fallen bodies of the small monsters. They were frustratingly innocent looking in death, too small and too weak to truly feel dangerous. But they were monsters. Many good people had died to them over the years. His [DETECT EVIL] ability always outlined them, even if he personally felt that they didn’t quite qualify. He glanced over at Samantha. She was shivering, but trying to hide that from him. She had done well, much better than he had thought she would. He had set her up for each killing blow, but she had taken them decisively. It had been the adrenaline, because now she looked as if she could no longer even lift the small dagger in her hands. “Samantha…”. He could not finish the sentence. He felt a heavy pit in his stomach. The Cave Goblins were always here when it was time to level a Chosen, which meant they must be spilling out in the surrounding areas, but this had felt worse than usual. Perhaps because he usually stayed at the treeline, and watched the newly arrived Chosen flail around. But this had felt wrong for him, wrong for the goblins, wrong for this young girl. Samantha looked up at him, her eyes blinking rapidly. “I got a level.” She smiled, and tears streaked down her face. “Yay me.” Luka nodded. He let the sick feeling leave him. A Hero fighting for Good had gotten stronger, as was right.

“Samantha, go ahead and put your points into [PHYSICAL]. Remember, that it won’t stop you from dying but it will greatly improve your own damage output.” He watched as she swiped the air, and frowned. “That… was two swipes. Samantha?” She glanced guiltily at him, and then smiled shyly. “I put a point into luck, is that okay?”

Luka sighed. “Yes. The physical stat will allow you to hit harder, but it can only do so much to protect you. The luck stat COULD benefit you, occasionally. But remember that every stat point is precious, and most of the Heroes that rise the highest are tightly controlled in their usage.”

Samantha sidled up, eyes wide, still red rimmed. “I have been assuming that the luck stat would, well, make me luckier. Is it just a general purpose thing, or is it more limited?”

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Luka let his eyes wander over the fallen goblins. “Let’s collect anything valuable from the goblins while we talk. The sun will set soon.” Samantha made a pained expression but began to cautiously poke through the scant belongings of the small forms on the ground.

“Like I said yesterday, luck is not a stat that many people, other than perhaps eccentric nobility, put many points into. It is simply too variable. RARELY a person will invest heavily into it, and be used as a treasure finder by a well equipped party, but even that kind of Hero will make sure to cover their weaknesses. I have not heard of someone putting more than twenty points into Luck. It is simply not done, understand? The more consistent you are, the better you can assess your ability to take risks. Luck skews that variable wildly. It can result in much rarer events taking place, and can push and pull you and anyone around you into situations they are ill-equipped to deal with, no matter the possibility of an increased reward.”

Samantha pulled a small stone dagger out from a goblin’s clutched hand and dropped it onto a pile of the goblin belongs. It was not an impressive collection. She nodded, looking at the ground. “I get it… thank you Luka.”

They stood there for a while, and then a loud gurgle emanated from Samantha’s belly. She squeaked and pulled back. “Oh. Ah.” She was suddenly very shy. “You wouldn’t happen to have any dinner around? It’s a long walk back to town…” Luka’s eyebrows raised, and then laughed. “Let’s get away from this mess, and I’ll prepare something. Even Heroes need to eat.” She nodded, smiling and wiping at her eyes. “And… maybe bathe. And get a change of clothing. And sleep for a long time…”

Luka understood. In time this world would become Samantha’s home. He pulled out some pre-prepared uncooked poultry from his large pack. He let his mind wander for a moment. It had been years since he had visited his family on the eastern coast. His nephew would be twelve now. He hadn’t thought about them in some time, and chastised himself mentally for that lapse. As he broke off some tree branches to whittle into skewers he let that frustration grow. He felt like he had done nothing of importance in the years since his last Chosen Hero had gone off. Had he just wasted that time? It all felt foggy and dreamlike. Now that Samantha was here he felt more grounded, more present.

His knife quickly sliced away at the sticks, small white shavings littering the ground. He knew he was good at his job, and that he was always at his best when working, but all the same, he could have made the effort. He glanced over at Samantha, watching as she gathered up bits of dry wood. Was there something about being near a Chosen that caused him to be more introspective? That made no sense. And yet.

He slowly pushed the sharp spike through the soft meat of the small pheasant.