When he first came to town, young and eager, i was skeptic he could survive a day longer than his predecessor, a level 5 barbarian. you see, i was unlucky enough to have a river and two huge lakes. what that means is that the number of rooms was extremely low, but the number of monsters per level always stay the same so the rooms were packed with all the goodies (or shall i say baddies) that underworld has to offer. it was a hero meat grinder. i watched maybe a 100 heroes give their life in the hope of getting just a bit of hard earned fame. but among those men and women, one name kept coming up.
Durvak, son of gershon.
I watched him grow from a level 5 squire who struggle to even scratch an hobgoblin to skul crashing level 46 demigod! packing 10,200 hp, Durvak withstood more than 200 monsters that couldn't bring him down to his knees, until one stray weretiger gazed his eyes and paws upon him. it was quick. it was dirty. it was sad.
I shall always remember you, Durvak, son of gershon.
(feel free to share your own)

