The Bet

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a heavy silvery glow over the desolate battlefield. Basking in the moonlight, the Harbingers stood ready to confront a tiny portion of the glimmering white Skeleton Army charging their way.

"Sid, want to bet, like the old days?" Samar asked the cloaked man with a grin. There was no need for him to say more as both of them knew the condition of the bet - The one who kills more mobs wins!

In the absence of unfamiliar eyes, Sid removed the hood, uncovering his wheatish brown face. His dark eyes glinted with mischief and joy as he asked, "What are the stakes?"

"Loser pays for the drinks!" Samar said, getting his bow ready. 

"You are on!" Sid replied with a challenging smirk and whipped out his Twisted Ebony Staff. The two grinned at each other and attacked the incoming horde.