Page 54 of With a Little Luck

I compare that mental picture to the character in my comic—the eladrin cleric who had been cursed by dark magic, trapped in the form of a statue for years, waiting to be saved. In the comic, the character inspired by Maya is beautiful, imposing, and elegant, just like she is in real life.

But she was also a statue, and I guess … pretty devoid of personality, now that I think about it.

At my silence, Maya’s expression starts to fall. “Did I get something wrong?”

“No! No. I’m just … surprised. A tiefling fighter. That’s … cool. Really cool. Have you thought about names yet? Because tieflings tend to135follow particular naming conventions. Not always, but they usually have names taken from the Infernal language, or—”

“Or virtue names,” says Maya. “I looked it up. Do you think Grit works as a virtue name? Because I was thinking of calling her Grit Stonesplitter.”

I blink. “That is an awesome name.”

She beams. “Thank you.”

“And you do know that tieflings have horns? And tails?”

“Yep,” she says. “I had this idea that maybe Grit’s tail was scarred in a gruesome battle years ago, and she’s kind of self-conscious about it, so she keeps it hidden most of the time.”

I nod slowly. “Sure. Yeah. Um. Here, you can write that down.” I tap the top of the page, and Maya starts to write her character’s information in her looping, half-cursive script. “We don’t have any tieflings in the group yet. Or fighters, actually. She’ll be good to have in the group.”

“I’ve been thinking about her all day. I’ve got a whole backstory worked out and everything. I want to be … I think it’s chaotic neutral?”

“Your alignment. Yeah. Chaotic neutral would be like … like a free spirit. You’re not really concerned with being good or evil, but you value your freedom and following your heart.”

“Yes, exactly,” says Maya, her eyes shining. “I have this idea that Grit grew up in a really dismal orphanage, with a lot of rules and restrictions, and now that she’s away from all that, she’s sworn to always let her instincts guide her. She wants to live a full life, full of new experiences and meeting new people and not be stuck in these tiny boxes that people try to put her in, where she always has to try to be what everyone expects her to be all the time. Instead, she can go out in the world and be adventurous and spontaneous and fall in love and have fun—” Maya cuts herself off and the moment of enthusiasm vanishes into discomfort. “Sorry. I’m probably way overthinking this.”

“Not at all,” I say. “Actually, it’s really good to think about backstory and how it made your character who they are. It makes it a lot easier to136play them authentically, and figure out what sort of decisions they would make in different situations.”

Maya frowns at me. “Then why do you look so skeptical?”

I grimace. “I’m not. I’m just … surprised. It’s not the character I’d envisioned for you, I guess.”

“Oh? What had you envisioned?”

“An eladrin,” I say immediately. “Which is a type of elf. With summer magic. An affinity for nature. Lawful good, or maybe chaotic good.”

Maya’s eyebrows raise. “Given this some thought, have you?”

I laugh. “Not really. I just … I guess that’s how I see you. In a way.”

“As an elf?”

My heart thumps, and I hesitate. Half of my brain screams not to respond, to change the subject before I say something I’ll regret. The other half knows this is not the sort of opportunity one should pass up, no matter how great the risk.

“As someone who brings beauty and warmth and goodness with her wherever she goes.”

I hold her gaze just long enough to see the compliment register, then I look down and pretend to be sorting my notes for tonight’s campaign. “So, uh, I have some extra dice that you can use. The next step is to roll for Grit’s stats.”

I hand her my set of dice. The old resin ones, not the mystical twenty-sided dice that almost never leaves my pocket now. I talk her through the rest of the character creation process and Maya tackles every step with enthusiasm, brilliantly concocting more of Grit’s backstory as she fills in her character sheet with ability scores and equipment. Maya is already talking about Grit like she’s a real person—a connection that some players don’t develop until they’ve been playing the game for weeks, or even months.

I’m more than a little impressed. I’m inawe.

By the time the doorbell rings again, most of my fears have evaporated. I never should have doubted the magic of Lundyn Toune.

Clearly, Maya is going to fit in just fine.

137

Chapter Eighteen

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