Macradon

Macradon would keep up the pace, going for an onslaught of attacks at near to no pause between each flurry. The party kept engaging and striking the bear like a volley of soldiers shooting through the wall. With every attack, the health bar of the bear slowly dwindled and they were approaching the halfway mark without major incident. The party’s timing with deliberating effects to the bear did not stop it in its tracks, but it did indeed keep it on its toes, despite how big it was. Fearsome sweeps were thrown at Freyd, and yet his health only took a minor dent to it. Last time Macradon had fou

Two health bars down, they were doing great progress towards clearing out this bear, making sure that this supposed resting place would become its actual resting place unlike whatever corruption had taken over its horribly decaying body. Swift wide swings from the bear would deal massive amounts of damage to the tanks of the different parties, and make the tanks truly work on their health management. Macradon was glad to be in party with Freyd, his tankiness was something to aspire for, his tenacity nearly unmatched. If there was any tank Macradon would always trust upon, it would’ve been

Zandra was quick to react to an opening, quickly setting up her Leadership abilities and shouting words of encouragement. And just as quickly as before, Wulfrin would take the vanguard lead to fish out any more damage or debuffs to the ursine threat. A successful hit would begin to eat away at the bear with what seemed like Poison-esque infliction and a frosty explosion that would leave the bear at a more vulnerable spot, this was the time to strike, so Macradon prepared himself and got in close. Quickly sweeping in from the side the knight would engage his sword, gripping firmly in a relaxed

Eight health bars … that didn’t seem good, it was tanky, extremely tanky, but from the looks of it, the Bear’s decaying open wounds didn’t seem to be it’s defence, maybe it had no defence whatsoever. Macradon clicked his tongue and looked at the Rhino’s Horn he had applied to his weapon, only for it to maybe not really be of any use in this raid, as there was no tanky plate armour, no hardened scales, no thick hide to defend against his attacks. He would take in a deep breath and easily fight through the stench as he was aided by his Survival skill. As the parties split up, Macradon fully

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Finally people began showing up, different teams were slowly gathering, it was time! Macradon would put on his game face and do a few stretches while adjusting his armour for the best combat fit. The mist from his armour cooled the air slightly, but the minute temperature difference made no actual difference to the horrid air permeating around them. He would do a few small hops and shake everything into place and get himself pumped for the fight. He would take off his sword in its scabbard and place it in front of him pointed down with both hands ready for battle, ready for war. The knight inh

It took a while, but finally Macradon wasn’t alone out here in this stinking hell hole. He waved at the figure that he found somewhat familiar, it was someone from the raid meeting, he wasn’t too sure who they were, but just knew that they were in the team together. “Hi! Good to see you, seems like Team 2 are the first to begin to assemble out here.” he said to @Wulfrin with a chortle to his tone, it was weird that it took this long, the frontliners were usually there at the same time like a huge wave, but this time … it was different. Maybe it was the smell, who knew. The knight accepted the

“Ew” were the first words to escape the knight’s mouth as he approached the designated floor boss rendezvous point. The stench was horrible, the environment icky, the sights unsightly. This place was a travesty, it looked and smelled like the dumpster behind a butcher, absolutely horrid. “Why didn’t anyone say that it was this bad … I knew it was something about a carcass they were fighting … but this.” Macradon thought to himself. He couldn’t fully comprehend the situation he was in, just looking around in the nothingness but an empty forest that smelled like decaying flesh “And why the hell

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The living pinata that was Macradon dangled from the ceiling with his legs tangled in web. He struggled for a bit before cutting himself loose and began his descent. A quick glance would instantly give him the battle overview he needed and within no time at all the knight resumed his mission. His combat instincts were waking up again, his spatial awareness kicked in, he was fully locked in on the arachnid as he got into a stance mid fall and executed a sword art. His blade was engulfed in orange light that went brighter and brighter until a white light illuminated the webbed arena. His mo

A swift exchange of heavy blows would dwindle down the arachnid’s health as every fighter got their shot at the big weaver. Despite the others’ distaste for the spider-theme, they got strong hits on the Maze Weaver, dealing a good chunk of damage and getting closer to victory. Macradon would ready his sword and went in for another attack, trying to get some more damage in albeit not that much, as his last hit with Charge and all still only did a small sliver compared to the rest. With another cleave at the ready, Macradon leaped through the air, but somehow got super extra tangled in all the s

The 25th floor, last time Macradon was here was of necessity more than anything, he remembered every last bit that happened at that raid … it was a different time, a lot has changed since, bosses became more intricate, floors got more fleshed out, it truly was a huge milestone for the Aincrad conquest. The knight reminisced his time travelling the maze, the penguins he had doodled along the way to the labyrinth boss and eventually what became the floor boss arena. It was a gruelling battle, the hardest Macradon had fought, the hardest Macradon had endured, it was like a personal jab at everyth

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Somehow, for some reason, his shop was being frequented more than he was used to, not that it was a bad sign or anything, but it seemed like the myth of his non-existance was being purged day by day. “Sometimes it actually feels nice to exist” he thought to himself as the bells chimed in his shop's entrance. It was Jomei, a familiar face and a familiar person. A capable fighter Macradon had been on nary adventures with in the far past. “Jomei! It’s good to see you, how may I help you?” he inquired and listened to the request “No problem it is a shop after all, so I expect business from people

Not long after his reunion with an old pal, the meeting began. As per instructions from Whisper in Shadows, Mcradon would find a seat and try to fit into the crowd and let the meeting flow as intended by whomever were planning everything. The knight made note of the scouting party’s discovery, a twisted stag or elk, some decay and rot emanating from the, what would be, boss arena. He shuddered at the thought of all that rot around him during a fight, it wasn’t to his best interests, but what could be in his best interest in a boss raid … it’s not like the bosses had been extremely difficult th