Loot her.

You hurriedly shake your head. Boobs were boobs, to be sure, but what about that warhammer? If she so much as roused from her present state, she would be gone before you had the chance to hex her. Grabbing her shoulder, you manage to heave her onto her side, allowing you to remove the straps on her weapon and relieve it from her back. You hold the bludgeon in your hands, fingers moving over the ornate patterns carved into its handle. Although you never once held a hammer for as long as you can recall, the weapon seems to fit you like a glove on a hand. You take a glance at its statistics:

Basic Bronze Warhammer
+2 Melee attack
Class Bonus (Warrior): Additional +6 Melee attack.
Affinity Bonus (Gnome): Additional +4 Melee attack.

Score! You won't be smashing dragon skulls any time soon, but this is a significant upgrade. As you think this, the barbarian's **** body blips out of sight, courtesy of the same warping light that brought her in. A shame, you briefly think to yourself. She was easy on the eyes at least.

"'ey, scrub."

You flinch, mostly out of habit. Gritsheim Thugs are a common enemy in this locale, given that they're part of a quest to wipe out thievery assigned to beginning heroes. Due to that, they typically have even less longevity than you, but that didn't stop them from treating you like a poor joke.

"Saw a light comin' from here," drawls the bandit, poking his head into your hovel. "You get yer half-pint ass kicked again? Haw haw."

"Say that to my face again," you squeak, brandishing your new toy. The goon snickers at your lame attempt at a threat, but staggers as soon as he catches sight of what you're holding.

"Whoa whoa whoa, what the fuck? A freakin' hammer?" he quails. "Noooo fuckin' way, half-pint. Cult freaks like you don't get hammers!"

"This one does." Growling, you advance upon the quavering human. "Want me to show you how it works?"

"Yer mad! What d'ya think you're trying to do, play the hero? Fighting me isn't going to get you anywhere!"

"Anything to shut you up!" Roaring (as much as your limited gnomish voicebox lets you), you heft the hammer in both your hands, fluidly like a stone through water. You catch the Gritsheim Thug by his hip, and he oofs as he tumbles to the ground. Snarling, he pulls out his dagger, but you're already prepared. Light dances from behind your eyes, lining runes along your temples as knowledge of your "new" spell pulses through your nails. The Convince hex strikes the bandit on his nose, and he drops the sharpened knife in his hand, an oddly placated look on his face. You take the opportunity to swing your hammer again, cannonballing the hapless human a few feet away, throwing him on the dirt with a thud. A malicious grin forms under your mustache, but strangely enough, you don't feel any of the rush you did when you defeated the heroine earlier. Did the leveling system not apply for enemy-versus-enemy fights? It would make sense - if mooks could get stronger just by fighting each other you'd probably be the bottom of everyone else's food chain.

"A-a-a-a-wgh," groans the Thug as he pulls himself together. "The fuck just happened?"

"You're not going to push me around anymore," you tell him firmly, perching the weight of the hammer on your shoulder. "Any more lip like that, and I'll smash your skull in, along with whatever brains you have left!"

"Awright, awright! Yeesh!" he mutters. "A little basic hero gear and the munchkin monk thinks he's a fuckin' boss or something. What's the big deal? Yer just gonna rot here with the rest of us anyway. Ya wanna be the king of the hill now?"

You pause. The thought has never crossed your mind, but if you're getting stronger, moving out of this pathetic ruin of a quest area might very well be possible now. You thumb your whiskers thoughtfully, which does not go unnoticed.

"Aw, hell! Ya can't be serious!"

"Actually..."