"You're next."
"No, I'm not. Technically Kirana is next on your list. I've passed her. I've just levelled up to seventy two," Ash countered.
"I think I'll stick to my list."
Ash looked at Jace solemnly.
"You sure you want to do this?"
"Yeah."
"My Trial is awesome. No one has passed it yet. Those few who tried gave up after dying numerous times. Even that pompous Paladin, Tristram and his righteous Knights," Ash gloated.
"I won't."
"To be honest, even I had to be extra careful to pass my own Trial. What makes you think you can do it?"
"I don't know but I have to try, whatever it is."
"I bet you won't make it. You can't pass my Trial," Ash said confidently.
"You're on. Loser buys the winner dinner for a week."
"A week!! B-but ..." Ash spluttered.
Jace raised his dark eyebrows challengingly at his best friend. Ash narrowed his twinkling blue eyes in response, challenge accepted.
"Fine. Loser buys the winner breakfast, lunch and dinner for two weeks."
"You're on!!" Jace smirked. "Okay, let's go in. Let's do this."
"I don't like it when you smile like that. You look absolutely wicked," Ash grumbled as he put on his gaming headgear and logged in.
The Heroes spawned at the same time, Valentine allowing Lazarus into his home.
Lord Valentine, Thief, Level 72 was resplendent in red and gold. The bold colours enhanced his handsome features and the cut of his outfit showed off his muscled warriors' body. He looked down from his dais at Lord Lazarus, Assassin Level 76. The slender Assassin was dressed in his customary black, the dark colour fast becoming his trademark. Dark green runes were embroidered at his collar and sleeves adding boosts. It also ran along the edge of his tunic and boots.
The stark contrast between the two Heroes couldn't be more obvious.
"Welcome, Lord Lazarus. What brings you here my friend?"
"My Lord Valentine, I am here for your quest. I request your Trial for the use of your keystone."
"Ahh, the Trial. It is a difficult one. One I would rather you not do. Would you like to reconsider?"
"Thank you but no, I must take it. Please, tell me what I must do."
Valentine squared his shoulders and smiled grimly at the Assassin.
"So be it."
"In my travels, I have come across a poor soul. He has been cursed and has gone mad, not being able to control thought or action. In order to contain the damage he was wrecking upon my people, I have confined him in a ravine not far from here."
"The cause of his madness is the saber he wields. The cursed saber is supposed to make its master invincible. Many have fought over it and for it but little did they know, the one who owns it will slowly grow insane. The saber is cursed and feeds off madness and power. It knows human weaknesses, greed, lust, jealousy and revels in it. The saber is the real master and it's supposed master it's slave."
"Your task is to free this poor man from the curse. Take the saber from him and bring it to me. I must rid the lands of the evil weapon. Be warned, he is a highly skilled fighter and very cunning."
"Bring me the cursed saber and I will grant you the use of my Orb. Do you accept my quest, Lord Lazarus?"
GateKeeper Valentine, Thief, Level 72, Portal Orb Trial.
Accept / Reject
Lazarus bowed to Valentine. "I will bring you the cursed saber, My Lord. I accept your challenge."
With the acceptance of the Trial, Valentine disappeared.
Lazarus kept a neutral expression as he pondered the trial. He had heard of the famed fighter who had fought valiantly for the weapon. It was said he wanted to save his comrades from the evil power and had sacrificed himself. He had managed to wrest the saber from its former master but in doing so fell under the saber's strong curse himself.
Now he was trapped in the Ravine of Regret, doomed to madness. The only way the warrior could recover was for him to part with the saber, something he would not do willingly. Legend has it, only death can part the saber from its chosen victim. Once free, it will call to another chosen one to find it.
The Assassin ported to the Ravine of Regret. Now all he had to do was find the swordsman. Lazarus walked slowly, stealthily, listening to the wildlife. Anything strange will give away the presence of another being.
The deeper he went, the quieter it became. No more animals could be heard. The trees became wild and twisted, misshapen shadows crawled on the ground as the sun lowered in the sky. Even nature shunned this place, he thought.
He came to a clearing. It seemed odd in this weird place. The clearing was spacious and covered in clean soft sand. A small hut stood at the edge. Alert, he went to investigate.
"Greetings, is anyone here?" he called out.
Suddenly, the door of the hut flew open and a man charged out. Lazarus jumped back.
"Whoa, friend! I come in peace!"
"No one is my friend! Everyone wants to steal my saber. Everyone wants to kill me! I will not let you take it!"
The mad man rushed the Assassin. He was fast and skilled, his madness fuelling him with urgency. Soon, the two were fighting. Lazarus went on the defence, blocking and dodging. The sound of steel rang in the still air as the two fought. Dead leaves and soft sand flew into the air as the two fighters continued their deadly dance. Lazarus did not want to kill him, all he had to do was take the saber away from him and the warrior would have a chance at sanity.
Lazarus was tiring, his Health declining rapidly. His poisoned body could not cope with the unrelenting onslaught of the frenzied warrior's strikes. The other fighter seemed unaffected by their long sparring. It seemed like he did not feel pain or fatigue, only fear of losing his precious weapon. He was indeed cursed.
The swordsman was gaunt, almost skeletal. His bones protruded sharply, stretching his blotchy pallid skin. His robes were tattered, soiled and he smelled terrible. He was half dead, only his obsession of the saber in his hands was keeping him alive. What a miserable life, even for an NPC.
His thoughts distracted him. The swordsman grabbed the opportunity and slashed at the Assassin, cutting him down the front.
"Aarrgghhh!!"
The Hero looked down in disbelief, his blood already soaking into his clothes. The swordsman stumbled back a few paces watching. He knew his strike was fatal, he had cut deep and with force. His deadly saber had sliced through muscle, sinew and bone with ease. Without his vital organs, no Hero could survive.
Lazarus clutched his bleeding front trying to hold in his guts. He fell to his knees, pain written all over his face. Bright red blood gushed out taking his strength with it. The assassin's body started glowing. He cried out as he burned, his body brightening slowly and finally combusting. The whole area lighted up with the Hero's fiery death.