A lone barbarian.

The light shimmers out of view, and you squint for a proper look of the incoming hero, identifying them as a female barbarian. Standing at what's probably over twice your halfling height, she bears the traditional body frame of a strength-focused class; despite the "Level 1" indicator above her head you can make out the musculature starting to form under her smooth, battle-virgin skin. Of course, that's how most of the new players looked, but not that it mattered to you - you were precisely designed to fall against even these mindless DPS machines. This time, however, you're a little less dread-filled. Your new enemy bears a look of dazed confusion as she looks from side to side, causing her tresses of blond hair to bounce over her shoulders and slightly pointed ears to twitch. The sign of a half-elf, you realize. Maybe she was counting on the elven speed bonus to make up for the loss in strength?

"Ugh, I knew I should've picked a lighter weapon," you hear her grumble as she stretches. "This warhammer is killing my back! ...And that's not counting the rack I have in front!" she adds, hefting her twin mounds, barely covered by the traditional barbarian garb. "Who made these scraps of leather anyway?!"

You twitch. There's something alluring about the careless way this newcomer shuffles her assets about, but you're still wary of her innate power to smash you into pulp. Still, she looks as good as a target as any...

"Raaaaagh!" you yell, emerging from your hideout and triggering the encounter. Though with your short stature and squeaky voice, you have all the intimidating power of a field mouse.

"Eeeeek!" Then again, it doesn't seem to have mattered. In her surprise, the half-blood warrior fumbles with the weapon at her back. The opening does not go unnoticed, but which spell do you use? Clenching your eyes, you release a blast of your Exhaust spell, dull red sparks slamming the ditzy fighter in the underboob. "Bwuh-wha?" All of a sudden, the player demonstrates even less finesse in her footwork, unsteadily tipping one shoulder to the side and almost spinning on the spot. Her fingers brush the handle of her hammer, far too uncoordinated to grasp it properly. Now's your chance! You leap on her like a pouncing kitten, waving your staff with all the skill and dexterity of a drowning man clutching at straws, screaming to drown out whatever noise that might be signalling your incoming doom...

Nothing. You finally stop, sweat dripping down your shiny forehead and matting into your messy beard. Shudders grip your forelimbs, and you're almost certain that you pissed yourself silly at one point. But the rush! You don't remember the last time you felt as invigorated as you just did. But what of the barbarian lady? Dragging a hand across your sweaty brow, you finally realize where you are: perched on her stomach, with her leather-clad boobs lightly jiggling in front of you. You did it! you shout inwardly, raising your nobbled staff and fists in the air. Was this what being an adventurer felt like? Getting a kick out of bashing lesser, unfortunate creatures?

A sudden pinging noise catches your attention. You blink; it's the same noise you always heard whenever you got your pitiful ass wiped, just as you faded into nothing. This time was different; colored lights descend upon you like angelic feathers on a saint, their mere presence strengthening you. You clench a fist in anticipation. Words cannot adequately describe the catharsis in your mind, but what matters is that you've become stronger!

You are now Level 4!
MP +3!
Ranged attack +1!
Magic Defense +3!

All right, so it wasn't much. Hardly surprising since all you did was beat a lone novice of a heroine, but that matters little to you. Finally you can boast of being able to use your Convince spell without the game having a laugh at your expense. Taking a moment out of the afterglow, you observe the girl under you. Mooks dissipate, but what does it mean for heroes to fall in battle? While you've heard stories of losing inventory, you've never had the chance to personally witness the phenomenon. Save for a bit of bruising on her midriff, the warrior looks like she's sleeping.

"Ah, screw it!" you think, pulling her by the ankles. She's your "kill", and you're going to figure out what to do with her. It takes you a good few moments to tug the heavyset female into your ruined base, somehow without her waking up from the gritty ordeal. Now what? Do mooks manually loot heroes they defeat? You gaze at her heaving chest, realizing that you've been staring at her assets for a while now. Blue sparks flicker at your fingertips as your mind wanders. Maybe there are a few things you can do...