Luck was walking across the streets of Harelfall drenched in sweat and marred by a couple of scratches.
His shirt was the biggest giveaway of his unscrupulous adventures. The side was ripped to shreds and painted crimson by his own blood. The wound was shallow but still, it was more than enough to make him bleed.
It only took a couple of confused stares for him to decide that hiding in the darkness was far better. Now just like he did when he was a kid he was avoiding their gazes by moving under the cover of dark.
While he was in the dungeon, he ended up running into a few more guard skrills before deciding that he had gone far enough for one night. It was getting late after all, and Luck felt that if he continued, he might have gone on a rampage murdering skrills till there was nothing left in that cave.
That was if he didn't meet a large enough group. Most of the guards he encountered were not more than groups of two.