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About Macradon

  • Title
    Imperial Topaz
  • Birthday 05/11/1997

Guild Information

  • Guild Name
    Solo Player
  • Position
    Commander of the Vanguard

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  1. dusts off old casket

    Time to dig you up again old pal

    release undead muse

  2. The tattered tents, patched up tarps, and littered streets. If anyone were to think of slums, this would be a picture in a dictionary. Macradon sighed at the digital misery that was forced upon these people, be they sentient or not. He didn’t have much to say on the matter, he wasn’t a figure of power to turn anything on this floor, if anything he was a terrorist, a foreigner who has come to stir up some problems for his own personal gain: freedom from the hellscape Aincrad. Hirru was quick to find the so-called ‘corridor’, and Macradon had to agree with the description. A lot of people w
  3. Night truly showed her advantage in this fight. Macradon’s range wasn’t enough to keep her at bay. Flashes and blurs disappeared around his attacks, dodging and evading like cleaving into a mist. The knight chortled even though he was in a disadvantageous spot “You’re pretty good, light footed across the battlefield. I can’t imagine you also doing this while going all out with your greatsword. Saying I am impressed would just feel patronising, you’re a good fighter!” he exclaimed and went for a rock solid blocking guard, but it was futile, Night’s agility trumped his reach and ferocity, he was
  4. Macradon snickered, “Glad to know I’m not the only one having just about nothing to do when raids aren’t upon us. Every excuse to get outside seems like a breath of fresh air, no matter how non-fresh the air ends up being,” he said and commented on their surroundings. It wasn’t the best of places to be, but it was something. This place wasn’t important, what was really important was what Baldur would be pointing out in the distance. “That mountain huh … so the mountain houses the boss we’ll be fighting?” he questioned but only needed a short while to piece the pieces together “Oh shit. T
  5. With a quick upwards strike trailing behind him like a tail, Macradon glamorously failed to connect with Night who easily diverted from his oncoming attack. The incoming attack would then at least attempt to be parried, but the added momentum, and the lighter weapon Night was using, easily manoeuvred around his unwieldy blade with a just as unwieldy grip. His boulderous rock slide of a parry didn’t go his way and was hit by the quick strikes of Night. To his retaliation, Macradon would boulder his way through but play to his own advantage now, reach. Not only was his blade longer, his hilt as
  6. What a sight, this wasn’t really what he had anticipated for what seemingly was a valentines event … a tournament. Macradon chortled and looked at the crows around him and Baldur standing strong on his centralised position to everyone, telling everyone present what was going on and how the tournament was to be executed. It was quite the setup Baldur had prepared, training clothes, weapons, and gear. Everything seemed to be proper sparring gear where everyone could go all out without anyone being hurt. The dojo’s aesthetics were pleasing to the eye and everything seemed to be neatly placed to n
  7. Macradon had packed and donne some great gear for the cold cold 4th floor as he exited his estate only for him to receive Baldur’s reply “For fuck’s sake.” he exclaimed and went back inside and began packing other clothes for the occasion, something that was more … battle-ready, since an ancient earth elemental was guarding a forbidden garden onsen which sounded endearingly interesting to check out. He would begin to don his Frostlight after sending the message to the two, and heavily pack extra cloth on his ironclad boots, making sure that his feet wouldn’t get stuck in the muddy envi
  8. Macradon growled lightly by all the fuss going around. A mere choice in a game, a non-dilemma, going up in flames around the frontlines. He wasn’t a person to argue, he was a good soldier and followed orders, he was a battling machine, so interactions weren’t part of his fine repertoire of murderhobo-ing through everything and everywhere. He sighed heavily and struck his sword into the ground, leaned up against it, and began to massage his temples “Are you guys really sure about this. Are we really playing Pokémon now? Going all out until it’s in the red, then we ‘capture’ the poor little thin
  9. As his team without hesitation went on the assault, everything was going as “planned”, the scathers were disabled or disactivated and Gabrandr was hurting all over. The next parties to take their turn at the punching bag came barging in, ready to finish off the boss to get everyone out to the other side, safely to the next floor … or so Macradon had hoped. But nope! Visual Novel time let’s go! A prompt appeared in front of him, as well as in front of everyone else. It asked them all the same question, and there was a definite line between the frontlines, some would spare and others would go fo
  10. Macradon nodded, the wording probably wasn't as kind as he wanted it to have been, but with the current setting, that was probably a better word to describe the conditions. He added to his description "A general gathering/living area predominated by a minority in the wider scope. Since these Galteans are held at lower regards, they might have their own living areas from everyone else, or they might just be locked up in a big mosh pit. I'd like to find out either way." and went on with what Hirru noted about the slums "Alright then, let's head out and get closer." Macradon said and began walkin
  11. “He’s a wily one this Gabrandr!” Macradon shouted out to the rest of his party. The damage that was done and then rightly so nullified kept the team running. The other players were quick to run for the scathers and disarm them as quickly as possible, letting the rest reach for the vanguard. With the next oncoming attack, Macradon knew that it was gonna hurt and he prepared himself “Morg, I’ll take the next hit, you’ve done more than a good job! I trust you with my safety!” he called out as he ran past his party’s tank “This one’s gonna keep him at bay for a little while!” he roared and went in
  12. The fizz of a can being opened, the heavy sigh of the drinking subject. The first floor estate sat empty apart from its now only resident. A big house for a single person, a whole lot of nothing to do all alone anymore. He brought the drink up to his mouth and began chugging, it was all he could get himself to do now, there wasn’t anything else that was giving him the entertainment and thrill of the fight that he used to strive for. He longed for the hectic daily battles, he couldn’t forget the action he kept meeting day in and day out, everything was now so … mundane and boring. He finis
  13. The blinding bright flames would erupt and cover Macradon in a wicked retaliation from the boss, dealing a good chunk of damage to all affected by the luminous payback. It didn't seem like he was the only one hit by the flares, at least that was what he could notice from the HUD in his view, but just as fast the health was slowly depleted, his health was bumped back up, he couldn't see clearly, but he could hear and the voice was familiar "Thanks for the backup, @Simmone!" he called out to his team mate. Macradon kept his mind steeled and focused on what was at hand, but something irked him th
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