And this time he did not return to his corpse. He realized that in order to open the cauldron, he'd have to clear every single ghoul around it. Four mobs from the other side of the cauldron. Just a bit further.įinally - FINALLY!- he made it! He began to open the cauldron. He was always so close! Each death was a fluke. He was so close, he could feel it!īut of course our hero died again. How many elites had fallen to his spear? How many giants of the deep, how many beasts and humanoids? He returned once more to the Writhing Haunt. He had soloed every quest from here to Feralas and back again. He couldn't believe these little nothings were defying him. But it seemed that they were always just close enough together, or they were respawing right behind him. Apart, they were each no stronger than any other two-bit npc the young paladin had encountered. Others had stuns that lasted upwards of 5 seconds.
Some had interrupts that left him helpless for seconds upon seconds. But the mobs were more powerful than he had thought. Just clear a hole big enough to unlock the cauldron. He returned, and fought, and kept fighting, and fighting, and fighting. He watched in amazement as he was slaughtered by two mobs the same level as him. He fought valiantly, but one of the mobs had a spell interrupt, and it soon became clear it wasn't going to let him heal. But what's this? Looting lag! And look, mobs he had never seen before were respawning! Apparently another warrior had been through just before him. The young hero finished slaying the last add and looted it. Soon he found and defeated the Lord - it was difficult, more difficult than he had thought it would be, but he had the key now, and having the key meant nearly done. His god gave him no warning.Īnd so our doomed hero began to fight the ghouls he found there. No macabre symbol of his future torture greeted his arrival, no "Abandon all hope." It was a field like any other in these Plagued Lands. Would he have turned back, if he knew? Could he have believed the tens of minutes he would spend smashing his head on his desk, tears streaming down his face, crying "Why? Why? Why?" If only he had known what terrible fate awaited him. It was even part of a chain, a chain he had breezed through 'til now. Not that long ago, on a server much like this one, a young lvl 55 paladin received a quest, a quest merely called "Target: Writhing Haunt." It seemed a simple quest, he'd read dozens like it before. Comment by ThottbotGather round, children, and let me tell you the Tale of the Paladin and the Writhing Haunt.
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