The Shadow

All it took was a single strike.

One final swing of the metaphorical axe, and the crimson-clad Kingslayer felled the mighty Orgoth. With a groan, the behemoth pitched forward, bracing himself on his hands as his shaggy mass trembled. His weapons lay only a hair's-breadth away, and even as his arms bulged with effort, his hands inched ever-closer. In what appeared to be his final Hail Mary, the minotaur flung himself backward, rocking back onto his knees once more. This time, there was no bellow of anger or agony, no cry of terror or triumph. This time, when Orgoth spoke, Shadow’s voice intertwined with each word. 

“THIS IS NOT OVER.”

The Champion of Iron Fist threw back his head. Though he exposed his battle-worn face to the heavens, it was something hellish that poured from his flaring nostrils and gaping mouth. Reminiscent of a hanged man on the gallows, Orgoth clawed frantically at his own neck while obsidian smoke coiled skyward.

Then, in an action that defied logic and physics, it changed direction. As if sucked away by an invisible vacuum, the darkness curved, shifted, then disappeared into a figure suddenly positioned directly behind the writhing Orgoth. For the first time, Shadow revealed himself to the full raid party. Eerily human features twisted in an expression of disgusted rage, and hands balled into fists at the silhouette’s sides. Even as the minotaur remained on his knees, he seemed enormous when compared to his shadowy counterpart. Shadow, on the other hand, stood at less than six foot tall. The sudden stomping of his foot, a tantrum from a petulant child, made him only appear smaller.

“I will not allow you to beat me!” he thundered. “I am above you, do you understand? You cannot touch me.” In demonstration, Shadow threw his arms wide, blackness exploding out from him like a bomb’s impact. It flew in every direction, streaking through the gathered players with the frigid force of icy bullets. By the time the black wave had reached the surrounding walls, the entire room had been plunged into complete and total darkness. No longer were players able to see Shadow, who had slipped silently from his post behind the still-struggling Orgoth. Nor could they witness the emergence of their next threat, born from the darkness that promised to suffocate them all.

ORGOTH'S STATS

PLAYERS' STATS

The fight is currently at [INTERMISSION]. Players of all parties are called to post once.
The deadline for each round is 72 hours [Thursday, 17 December, 2:00PM EST].
[timer]

Orgoth roared, even as the Shadow’s sudden and inexplicable silence lengthened.  But, there was no reprieve.  Even as Oscar admired the silhouette of his altered shadow with vanity bordering on the perverse, the bullish champion set to flaying them all with his advance.  Axes whirling anew, the boss flinched in a moment of unexpectedly intense rage from the one in red, transmogrified by some strange, goopy horror he’d gone and plastered on his own face.  What the heck was that about?!  Granted the opening she needed, the absent one struck true despite being equally stricken by her fellow’s vile visage.  Blows fell in accelerated succession as the gathered players rained pain and insults upon the ravaged minotaur, his hairy flesh now laced with myriad gashes and gashes in glorious, vitriolic orange.  So many now afflicted him that they seemed to have become his own personal source of light.

Amber eyes jumped high and kicked, knocking the beast to his knees, just as his beloved bluenette drove her brilliant spear deep into his tattooed chest.  The black froth gathered around their foe’s mouth fell in dribs and drabs, near constantly now.  Sizzling upon whatever it landed, it sought to eat away everything just as it had tried to consume him.  The others piled on the injuries, sensing a growing vulnerability.  One madwoman with crazy-big shoulder pads even thought it a fitting time for a selfie?!  Orgoth was too distracted to care, his head pounding from within and without.

Flashes of movement on his flank provoked a wild swing, smashing into a deep blue knight yet somehow dulled by unique talents laid bare before the gathered throng.  His fellow tank fell back to recover, but still maintained the fight.  On his other flank, the wall he’d sought to sunder in his last barrage pulsed blue and lanced some thin red thread into him.  Raging still, Orgoth clamped his blunt teeth upon it and thrashed.  Shadow’s corrupting power coursed through it to lash and gore, dampening that party’s healing for a time.

"Trust your teammates!"  Cried one who stood stalwart as he rallied hopes faltered by the revelation of escape denied.  Behind him, shadows fell before the crowed man’s flurries, only to land the slightest, confusing tap upon the boss.  Then came the sliver of darkness that linked the other darkness to his own.  Was this fool actually crazy enough to seek to trap the darkness in his frail form?  Then a voice echoed in the champion's mind.

Checkmate.

Orgoth bellowed with unfathomable and desperate agony, not from pain but from its momentary relief after so very, very long.  The red in his eyes flickered as he stumbled and dropped both axes, letting them clatter to the broken ground with the delicacy of crashing thunder sending forth clouds of ash and powdered hate some naively dismissed as dust.  Drawing a single, ragged breath, he finally managed to utter words sprung from his own indomitable will, even as his hands started to reach for his axes once more.

“END IT!  HIM!!  ME!!! NOW!!!!”

ORGOTH'S STATS

PLAYERS' STATS

The fight is currently at [ROTATION 4, ROUND 2]. Players of Parties III & IV are called to post once.
The deadline for each round is 72 hours [Saturday, December 12 at 1:00 am].
[timer]

It started within Nimbus. A sound rang out, filled with chatter and glee. The whispering laughter continues, echoing around the players seeming to come from all directions. For the first time, the shadows reveal how alive they really are. Figures form from the shadows, taking random forms from creatures to humans to monsters. Each make an almost a cackling noise before they surge forward. The Shadowlings begin to chase those that remained alive this long, only adding to the threat that they had to faced before. 

While these Shadowlings can be cut down with a blade, they only dissolve for a few seconds before reforming and continuing chase. Of course, those that remained away from the pools of shadows were safe from these creatures, but those who found it licking at their heels would find them attempting to drag them back into the shadows that they were born from. The air reached its lowest temperature, just below freezing. While conditions were almost at their worst, the threat had nearly doubled. 

Surrounding the player, MISERY, the shadows in the shape of hyenas nipped at the masked player's legs before dragging the helpless player onto the ground. The shadow rose in the form of hands, grasping the player's figure before slowly forcing the player to sink into its depths. 

Amos found himself exhausted. In his age, there shouldn't be any reason why he attempted to climb a mountainside. However, as a sound of high-pitched laughter whispered through the air, he found the energy to keep moving up. By now, the rest of the city's people were much farther ahead than he. They were young and spry, they didn't need to waste their efforts in someone as old as he. He looked back, finding that the storm had begun to catch up to him. He stared out to it, and found the grinning faces of unimaginable creatures staring back. Moving forward, he would use the last of his strength to climb onto a rock. Holding himself up with his stick, he would stare onwards into these faces. 

"Death is not something in which I'm afraid of. I've lived too damn long to not understand that it is a part of life." The storm licked at the front of his boots, washing onto them. Three figures loomed upward to him with outstretched arms. Slamming his stick into one, he would find that the creature had the same consistency as water. The creature splashed back into the storm. The other two didn't seem to mind the fall of their friend, but instead took the moment of his defenselessness to strike. Cold hands grasped his body, pulling him down to his knees. The creatures made a chattering noise, as if filled with glee from his capture. He understood this was the end. He didn't fight back against the storm as he was plunged into its depths. 

†  MISERY has been consumed by the Storm of Shadows.

Round Nine will end in 72 hours [Dec 10th at 2:15 A.M EST]

The LD Threshold is 8.

Orgoth’s twin axes came crashing down once more, the poor corrupted minotaur fueled by a shadowy rage that wasn’t quite his own. While the frontliners whittled away at its health, dropping it to a perilous low, Orgoth’s rampage ran them through, uninterrupted. The fighters’ attempts and pleas and all their blind gusto fell flat under the strength of the beast, whose inhuman power indiscriminately carved through armor like butter. Inky tendrils caressing its monstrous form, it seemed wholly focused on dissecting one pink paladin with two powerful chops… even to the point of ignoring the other attacking party altogether. Yuki would find that in an instant, her health had been reduced to little more than a fraction of what it had been a moment before. With any luck, it’d serve as a proper reminder for the mouthy tank to watch how she spoke to those above her. 

Bahr, spurred on by his imminent realization, quickly fumbled for a crystal to take him away from the locked, darkened chamber. But as he retrieved the teleportation stone, holding it triumphantly in the air, one thing would become immediately obvious: the crystal was dead. There were no sparkles on its surface, and no swirling light residing within its shining core. It was devoid of all color, siphoned of its mystical energies, a sickly, miasmic blackness crawling just beneath its surface. It wasn’t necessarily that its reception to a teleport gate was being blocked by The Shadow himself; in here, they just wouldn’t work at all. 

“Idiots~.” 

Where taunts and threats had fueled the atmosphere prior, now only a long, throaty chuckle resonated in the void surrounding them. Something very interesting had happened, hadn’t it? He wondered if the little realization would be enough to shatter their confidence. If so, maybe he should have revealed it sooner! The enigmatic figure did not speak with the same fervor with which he had before -- instead, he carefully chose to savor the chaos that was sure to ensue in the wake of their revelation. At least for the time being. 

ORGOTH'S STATS

PLAYERS' STATS

The fight is currently at [ROTATION 4, ROUND 1]. Players of Parties I & II are called to post once.
The deadline for each round is 72 hours [Tuesday December 8, 4:00 am EST].
[timer]

Cold wind ripped through the floor, cutting through clothing and even buildings. Those players that had survived this long would only find future hardships. While the storm hadn't taken much turn for the worse yet, several players already got to taste the threat for the very first time. As shadows took hold of them, it began to devour them whole. The light swallowed by the darkness. Those that managed to be freed from the grasp of the storm would notice that the areas that had been held down had begun to become eaten away, clothing and body. 

The dark rain continued to pour, pelting players and NPC's alike in the face with the freezing droplets. The shadows washed down into the lower ground, flooding them and rising up. As the players moved up, they would find the inky water splashing onto their feet as it moved down the mountainsides. Nimbus, once the main settlement of the seventh floor, was nearing a point of no return. Any who remained there would find their window of escape to be gone. The few NPC's that had managed to escape the city, moved up the mountainside. Children in front, the adults behind ushered them to what was considered the safest place from the storm. Taking the rear to this ground, Amos climbed after them using a hefty stick as a crutch to move up. The old man looked forward. "Keep moving quickly now. It won't be long before the mountain's too slippery to climb!" 

___________________

"Unfortunate, she will be missed."

The cold voice was unexpected to hear. Taken aback, he would frown as he held his weapon expectantly. Ignoring the dull throb in his back from the previous attack, his eyes searched the darkness for the figure of Setsuna. The area seemed to grown even colder as the sound of a unsheathing blade filled the air. "Tell me, what kind of monster ignores the passing of their friend?" It entirely made sense. Of course the parasite of the world cared not for each other. Only themselves and their benefit. Their own survival. 

Hugo prepared to block the oncoming attack; however, in his injured state he was no where near as fast as the small blue figure before him. As the cold steel slashed through his flesh, he would fall onto his back. Afterwards, the figure darted away as fast as she had come. 'What is up with them? Did she not intend to hunt me down? Why wouldn't she finish me off?' He pushed himself up off the ground, his body groaning as he did. His health was quite low. He was a low-leveled bandit. Taking on two players of decent level hadn't been the wisest of choices. 

"I'll get that girl." he whispered. He moved to push himself up, but found himself unable to even lift his hands or knees from the ground. His eyes floated down to the ground, finding his body sat within a puddle of the inky black liquid. It seemed to have frozen around his form and now slowly traveled up his arms. 

Trying to wrench himself from the ground, he found quickly any attempt was entirely futile. He had been captured. The ground bubbled in front of him for a moment as the shadows consumed more of his figure. A hissing sound made itself audible and in horror he watched as a dark figure rose from the shadows. Then another. The dark figures loomed over his downed body. The only feature he could make out were the demented smiles of these creatures before they clutched his body and drug him down into the shadows. 

† Alkor, Valentine, Koga, and Hugo^NPC have been consumed by the Storm of Shadows.

Round Eight will end in 72 hours [Dec 6th at 6:15 A.M EST]

The LD Threshold is 7.

The "rain" continued to pour down in sheets. The flood would only rise and while the temperature drop had significantly slowed it still fell at a steady pace. It was surely close to freezing temperatures. There was certainly much for the players to struggle through. At this point, Nimbus was hardly able to be resided in. The players that still may find themselves within it would be forced out or succumb to the storm shortly. Each of the buildings themselves had collapsed and fallen over. The rubble slowly being consumed by the storm; however, the rubble also would make a temporary bridge for an escape from the city. 

Within the city, Hugo found himself "entertaining" a few players. He awaited for the masked player to give chase, but the player hadn't seemed to follow. 'Perhaps he had been trapped in the flood?' Wiping the dripping black liquid from his face, he turned to make his escape from the city. It was clear to even him how treacherous the situation was within. The ground was entirely covered up to a few feet. Anyone caught that deep in had no chance of escape. "Now just to-" 

Pain flared from his back as he was assaulted from behind. Thrown atop of the rubble he stood on, his eyes met his assailant. While it was almost hard to make out through the pouring rain, he captured the figure of a blond woman wielding a scythe. 'Another damn player?' By now, the pain had subsided by the damage taken had been effective in the least. 

"Setsuna over here." the figure called. Was that the name of the masked player? It didn't matter. It was his duty to the Sundered Spire and every resident of Aincrad to take down the plague. The disease. The parasites that found themselves eating away at the very world they lived in. Summoning every ounce of his own strength, he would fling himself at the blond player. His first attack wasn't aimed at her body, but instead her hand. His a wave of his left arm and a slice of his weapon his opponent would find herself disarmed. Literally. With his freehand, he clutched the woman's neck. "That really hurt. I'm not sure if I'll have the strength to stop your friend. But Masahiro would've been proud to know I did some good in a time like this. Maybe when I return I'll have a promotion in store. I'm not strong like some of the others, but I'm loyal. If I keep trying, even someone as small as me can be useful." 

Tossing the girl's body over into the black waters, she would find herself unable to escape from its cold depths. His hand reached back to touch the gash in his back. Red pixels flowed freely from it and there was an obvious rip in his once white shirt. Grimacing, he would face the direction the player came from. There was a chance this 'Setsuna' was still back there. They had been foolish to attack separately from eachother. He sighed, pushing back the fear of death. No matter how many times it happened, it was hard to face the reality of it. Apparently the fear faded after enough times of going through it, but it still scared him a bit. 'I suppose even if I stall Setsuna for a bit, they would get stuck inside of Nimbus.' he thought. Self-sacrifice was necessary. That would be another player down and a step forward for their cause. Hugo put one foot in front of the other and called out:

"Come on Setsuna! I'm right here and waiting!"

 

† Blueberry and Freya have been consumed by the Storm of Shadows.

Round Seven will end in 72 hours [Dec 3rd at 12:30 A.M EST]

The LD Threshold is 6.

Screams echoed in the distant darkness enveloping the chamber.   They were few at first, but quickly grew in number and volume like thunder from an impending storm.  Moments later, they were legion and a slick drizzle of inky black oil-like rain washed briefly over the battlefield coating everything and everyone in a thin film of something utterly vile.  Shadow cackled triumphantly as the battle continued to rage, his words booming from everywhere all at once.

“Yes!” He urged.  “Give them hope, noble Samurai!  Own the shame of their failures before they even achieve them, as any dutiful master should!  Feel the film of so many weak and fallen souls on your flesh and know that it comes from those you foolishly left to die!”

“Scheme as hard as you want, Red Wanderer!  Assume that math will rule, when it doesn’t matter anymore.  The odds have been stacked!  Shouldn’t you actually be over with the orange brigade?  You’ve spilled enough blood to have earned it!  Keep feasting on the darkness in my pet, and know that you’re draining her life in a vain attempt to spare your own!”

“Such a clever one, this little metal-clad turtle at the forefront.  He's always trying to deconstruct the scene.  Don’t you get it yet?  I’ve played this out a thousand  thousand times.  While you’re set on winning a battle, I’m winning the war!  Every moment I hold you here, more of Aincrad becomes… me.   Shield away!  Hold the vanguard steady.  Every moment you buy brings my victory closer.  Thank you so much for your generous gift of time!”

"Eh?  What the..."

A flash of white light burst forth from a blue-haired beauty, with her beau at her side, washing over the giant minotaur and bathing his scarred hide in cleansing light that limned the countless tattoos visible upon his ravaged flesh.  Orgoth draws in the deepest of breaths and holds it, turning his gaze to the starless night above.  Every muscle on his massive form flexes terrifyingly taut. The entire field pauses, waiting for a hint of success.

“Bwahahahahahahahahahahah!" Came a high-pitched squeal of delight.  "It tickles!”

Orgoth’s mighty fists slam suddenly downward, rending more of the already broken floor and sending a potent shockwave outward to shake everyone free of their reverie, tossing their hopes out the window in the process.

“A prayer to the gods?!  There are none left to answer.  I am pure void, dear child, and your paltry pleas cannot reach me.  REQUEST DENIED!  Thanks for coming out, though, and leaving your precious siblings behind.  They made delicious snacks.”

Even before Shadow finished his latest taunt, Orgoth lunged forward and smashed Shield to his knees with such a massive blow that it cratered the ground below him by its sheer force.   Without missing a beat, he followed up by stomping a gargantuan hoof into the ground, unleashing a sonic thunder-wave that knocked the entire party back a dozen feet, some left teetering on the brink of the darkness at the room’s edge.  Shadow’s taunts resumed with gusto.  He seemed positively pleased by this turn of events, though his initial pause suggested that even he hadn’t been sure of their stratagem’s outcome.

“Quit gawking, blondie!  She's just knackered herself and doesn’t even realize it yet.  Better get in some smoochies while you still can!”

“Healing today, are we, big man?  Aren’t you a little overdressed for a nurse?”  Oscar’s shadow subtly shifted, its silhouette morphing to show him wearing a maid’s outfit, as hearty guffaws echoed all around.

“Shameful, little blue knight.  I like the colour scheme, though indigo might suit you better soon enough.  Are you sure you’re up to playing with the big boys and girls?  All that hard work, and you still can’t hit the broad side of a bull?  Pathetic.”

“YES!  Roar, mighty, little lion.  Oh… uh… was that it?  You’re not going to soil the carpet when my pet strikes you again, are you?  I swear, I had a spritzer bottle around here somewhere.  I guess we’ll just have to improvise!”

Orgoth wheeled, having already scattered the first group with his advance.  Heaving both axes overhead, he smashed them both into the ground before him, whirling as quick as a desert wing and batting the airborne debris to scour the second party.

“Sticks and stones, as they say, but without your precious healing skills, every scratch counts and wears you down!”

“Hey!  You in the corner!”  The sound of snapping fingers rang out all around Zandra.  “The fight’s over here!  Do pay attention, will you?  Funny how the pain doesn’t stop just because you do!”

Even NIGHT, watching the chaos unfold before her, wasn’t completely immune to Shadow’s reach, though small solace was offered by the fact that his taunts did not reverberate in her mind.  “Do you think I’ve forgotten you, little absence?  An empty void in all that remains of the light in this world?  I. FEEL. YOU.”

Two among them managed to retaliate as Shadow’s champion wreaked havoc on the raid, and they were spared the darkness’ wrath, until last.

“Oh, he’s got paper courage emboldened by hollow words!  Listen to him, Orgoth!  Or are your ears so full of hair that his precious praise falls flat?”  A mass of writhing tentacles sprang from Itzal’s flickering shadow, trying to engulf him as he flailed desperately to cut them down and keep their grasping at bay. Shadow tossed his own words back at him with self-assured mockery.  “Fight champion!  You are no less a warrior than the man-cow!  Show us your bravery as you pre-occupy yourself with preserving your vanity.”

“And this scrawny one!  So dark, so brooding, so frail that he can’t decide whether to stand in light or dark.  Actually, I think I like him!  Yes, let’s use him next, after Steak-boi is spent.” 

Dozens of writhing black tendrils lunged from the shadows at the room’s edge, piercing Freyd through and lashing at the same concealing clothing Shadow had previously singled out with his dare.  Two inky tentacles wrapped themselves around his head, dissolving his cowl just as the rest of him was flensed by the rest of the rippling swarm.  His clothes and mask were torn, parts fading to translucence by an attack intended to target the spirit instead of the flesh.  Where red eyes should have been, only two black orbs remained, though the Whisper seemed to be straining with every available ounce of available will to keep his body from slipping beyond his control.

ORGOTH'S STATS

PLAYERS' STATS

The fight is currently at [ROTATION 3, ROUND 2]. Players of Parties III & IV are called to post once.
The deadline for each round is 72 hours [Wednesday December 2, 11:00 pm EST].
[timer]

The darkness showed no sign of relenting anytime soon, threatening to consume everything until nothing was left. The flood of the inky water rose high enough that it had begun to force people from the city of Nimbus and leaving those without a source of light... in the dark. Not light nor hope had any place in Aincrad. All that remained was the darkness that was to consume all, even its inhabitants. 

On slightly higher ground, the storm was manageable. Not quite as high, but it slowly rose. The situation within the city was dire as most buildings slowly crumbled. Those still found within would find escaping harder and being forced to use the collapsed buildings to move around. 

It was too late when Hugo deciphered the difference in the sounds of the storm from the sounds of a man pursuing him through the murky waters. His body was slammed into the building to his right, the air being forced out of him. Dazed for a moment, he heard the threatening words of the figure in front of him. "Unlucky day? Every day after I woke up has been unlucky. I was once a bandit, slaughtered every damn day for just what I was designed to be."

"I don't think I am going to have to wait on respawning just yet." He slammed the hilt of an unseen dagger into the building, giving the force it needed to crumble away. Rolling over, he would push the player up and off him and onto the rubble of rocks. His eyes fell to his legs which had begun to be consumed by the storm. Picking himself from out of it he would roll up his sleeves. "Aincrad itself is trying to wipe out the plague that is you players. I am just helping it out."  He flipped the dagger in his hand. "Don't take it personal, but you don't look to strong. Pretty sure I could take you and Aincrad is about to wash out this city. You sure you can beat me and have enough time to get out?" He hadn't intended on getting in any real fights. He wasn't as near as strong as his superiors. He hadn't the cunning of them either. Some of them got around with craziness alone. 

Round Six will end in 144 hours [Nov 29th at 5:00 pm EST]

The LD Threshold is 5.

“The limit of my powers?” The voice did not boom like a cannon, but it held just as much devastation. Cold amusement and hot annoyance made a volatile mixture, and it coated each word as the Shadow mirrored Morgenstern's words. “You truly believe that you’ve figured me out? That you have even the slightest idea what is actually happening right now? You stand there, so cocksure, insisting you’ve seen it all. You think you know what I’m capable of?” The tone took on an edge sharper than any blade in the room. “You know nothing.”

The moment the words were spoken, Orgoth’s head jerked back as if yanked by an invisible hand. The creature bellowed, a tortured, otherworldly sound that echoed in the large room. Pebbles skittered across the floor as the minotaur lunged, hooves pounding like hammers against an anvil, as he cleared the distance between himself and the nearest party. Though his taut muscles still strained, and veins bulged beneath leathery skin, Orgoth moved with a surprising speed. In rapid succession, he plunged the blade of his ax into the orange-clad tank, tore it free, then slashed wildly across the entire party.

Unfortunately, the devastating attacks did not appear to satiate the beast's blood lust. This time, Orgoth emitted a low, animalistic growl as he turned on yet another group of players. Lifting both axes, he held them straight ahead, eyeing his victims over the hooked tips. When he was finished, a crisscrossing trail of crimson lay in his wake.

Once more, the shadows took shape, fusing to form a ribbon of darkness. The blackness twisted and curled, dragging along each player like a lover’s tender caress. The difference, of course, was that the touch held no warmth whatsoever. Instead, a bone-chilling cold graced exposed flesh, and penetrated light clothing as it swept through the ranks.

Finally, the tendrils reached for @Bahr, then gently stroked the length of his long, crimson coat. “You all want to discuss limitations?” While some of the earlier edge remained, the Shadow’s tone had taken on a strange sort of flirtation. As had been the case with Itzal, he spoke directly to Bahr, despite his voice filling the entire space. This time, however, the snowy-haired swordsman was clearly the intended target; the shadows continued to circle him like sharks. “I’ve noticed that you haven’t struck the minotaur a single time. Why is that?” The Shadow nearly purred as he asked, “Is it all a part of your plan, or are you simply failing yet again? Failing, just like you failed to protect your friend from that goblin? Just like you failed to protect your girlfriend from me?”

As the shadows lost their solidity and splashed across Bahr’s boots like black rain, the Shadow’s laughter rolled like thunder.

ORGOTH'S STATS

PLAYERS' STATS

The fight is currently at [ROTATION 3, ROUND 1]. Players of Parties I & II are called to post once.
The deadline for each round is 72 hours [Wednesday November 25, 2:00 pm EST].
[timer]

The storm showed no signs of relenting anytime soon. The air remained chilled and the waters slowly rose. It was the very definition of the apocalypse, the end. The sky by now was entirely blotted out, no light shone on the players. There was no light at the end of the tunnel for the players to stride for. Within Nimbus, the only source of light were the green crystals hanging on the walls. The number of these crystals were quickly diminishing as NPC's snatched them up for themselves. In the dark, the inky water was invisible. The only sign of it was the intense cold and the scent of what seemed to be a rustic iron. 

The dark waters pelted Hugo in the face. The end was near. So why was he smiling? What could possible there be for him to be happy about in a crisis such as this? Was he ruined at his core? Maybe. He stepped from his house that had already begun to leak and threatened to cave in soon. The creaking of the boards told him that much. There was no hiding from something like this. He adorned his typical wear: A brown T-shirt that matched his eyes and a pair of worn jeans. He took hold of his necklace and pulled it out of his shirt allowing to be in plain view for those close enough to see. Adorned on the necklace was a coin with the symbol of a red towed split down the middle by a black sword. The symbol of his purpose, of his people.

He pushed through the storm, his boots stomping through the waters that tried to grab him with every single step. The smile remained on his face. His eyes caught on a player, frozen no doubt by the mere fear of death. She was small in stature, a kid most likely. However, in a world like this. Even the children were guilty of the crimes committed on this world. Murdering the creatures and people of it over and over. They were parasites. They came from a different world and had come only for the reason to destroy his. To destroy Aincrad. He walked passively toward the white-haired child and as he got close he snatched her from behind. Luckily, the sound of falling raid had concealed his presence. Slamming his foot into the girl, he would push into the dark murky waters and hold his foot atop her stomach. "Shame you can't respawn huh? Once you die its over. Take that and run, you don't have to remember the horror every time. I pity you though, dying the first time is always harder. You are just the first. This storm is the sign of the world fighting back against the parasites. I am simply going to help it finish the job." The girl became fully submerged in the water and his smile became much more sinister. "One down. Where's the next?" Hugo questioned. This would be far too easy. He didn't need to have the strength to defeat the players like his superiors. He could use the storm as his weapon to get the job done. 'I'll focus on the players running around solo first. Then work to take down the clusters.' 

His figure sprinted off into the distance, leaving the girl to drown in the cold. 

† Assassin has been consumed by the Storm of Shadows.

Round Five will end in 72 hours [Nov 21st at 9:30 pm EST]

The LD Threshold is 4.

And still, the Frontlines persevered. No matter! For all their taunting and grandiose speeches, Orgoth was still standing, although wounded, and that was all that The Shadow needed. One kill; that’s all he needed. One carefully placed axehead, and their whole raid would shatter as easily as fractured glass. The void’s depths would once again rumble with The Shadow’s low chuckle, evidently humored by the ants who would dare declare themselves above him. 

Unfortunately, as if it wasn’t obvious already, his control over Orgoth wasn’t flawless. Those unsettling, jerking movements the minotaur demonstrated was a result over his manipulation of a creature with an unusually strong will. While the monster had been stripped of his agency, still he fought against The Shadow’s absolute dominion, blinded by rage and bloodlust, targeting only those who incited that wrath. But that wasn’t of concern to him. Not in the slightest. The Shadow was confident in his own strength; Orgoth was simply a tool, an instrument, as unwieldy and faulty as he was, and he would be treated as nothing more than such in his disposal of these pitiful heroes. 

Without hesitation, the full of Orgoth’s might came crashing down. With one swing, he’d strike Shield true, likely forcing the stalwart tank back a few feet - or at the very least, a few inches. Fortunately, his second attack struck nothing but air, yet still the entire party would feel the slightest whips of air pressure lashing out at their forms. 

But the boss wouldn’t miss a beat as his form violently contorted, focusing his attention then on a different party. Breathing hot death through his nostrils with a glare that could pierce even the thickest armors, Orgoth’s fury would meet the frontliners in a blinding crash of steel on steel. Ariel would be his primary target, letting his monstrous weapon carve deep red gashes through the digital mesh of the fighter’s mitigation as easily as if she were wearing nothing at all. His second would come from the side, a deadly follow up that cut indiscriminately across the entire party, damaging all those who stood beside her. At this, The Shadow couldn’t help but to gloat, the vile mirth in his voice its most prominent feature. 

“Please, keep struggling! The taunts, the gusto, the blind faith in the strength you so painfully lack -- I haven’t had this much fun in ages! I wonder, who will be the first to fall? I’d personally love a new toy to play with. Do I have any volunteers? Or shall I choose for myself?” 

With that, his attention would fall to @Itzal, though as Orgoth was still preoccupied with the fight, it wouldn’t be clear who his words were directed at. The Shadow’s voice rang throughout the cavernous expanse, almost as if he were somehow speaking directly into the ears of the frontliners. This time, The Shadow’s cadence was one of musing, as if he so desperately wanted to sink his teeth into this low-hanging fruit but insisted on skinning it first. 

“Perhaps you’re offering yourself? You, who speak down on the use of darkness yet still cloak yourself in it? I knew you frontliners were small-minded, but this level of hypocrisy comes as a surprise even so. If there’s nothing to fear, why hide? Maybe you’re scared of something? Who you are. Who you’ve become. Maybe it comes from a past mistake, a blunder that you couldn’t quite muster up the courage to face. Or maybe still it stems from a responsibility you aren’t yet ready to bear. Well, let me help you.” 

Inky tendrils of shadow would coalesce at the feet of those in the raid who hid themselves under hoods and behind masks, creeping up their bodies like snaking vines. They reached for their cowls, tugging ever-so gently at them, teasing a forceful and unwanted reveal. @Freyd - The Whisper in Shadows in particular would find that the tentacles that pulled on his cloak were much more emboldened, and would easily do away with his facial garb should he not pull himself free of that bind. If any player chose to rip themselves free of it, they would be able to do so effortlessly -- the shadows would immediately release them from their grasp, dispersing with even the slightest show of force. And The Shadow would laugh. 

“Do away with any false preconceptions you may have of your identities and face yourselves for the rats you are, or I might just choose to do away with those measly puffs of fog you use as a facade and show you myself~.”

But with that, his laughter receded, and it would seem, for the time being, The Shadow had sated his appetite for good entertainment. The fight carried on.

ORGOTH'S STATS

PLAYERS' STATS

The fight is currently at [ROTATION 2, ROUND 2]. Players of Parties III & IV are called to post once.
The deadline for each round is within 72 hours [Nov 21, 11 AM EST].
[timer]

The wind picked up even more, bringing with it the chill of winter. The temperature had already dropped well below the normal for the floor and threatened to soon drop below freezing. Within the city of Nimbus, the puddles that scattered the ground now formed together and covered the ground with a thin film of the dark inky liquid. Behaving unlike water, it slowly creeps up the bodies of still players and begins to climb upwards. Those however, that remain moving will find that it won't creep up onto them. The mixture of the howling wind continues to destroy the weak-structured buildings, forcing many NPC's out into the streets with panic-filled eyes.

Amos had already begun to accept his fate. His back was numbingly cold as he laid there stuck under the crushing weight of the house he had built himself so long ago. In his own age, he was wise enough and accepting of the end that was at hand. That was until unexpectedly, he felt the weight being pulled off of him. Slowly but surely, the obstacles holding him down were removed. Using his own strength, he ripped himself from the ground. The inky water the puddled on the ground tried to hold him down but it wasn't quite strong enough to hold him down. Holding himself up until he sat on the rubble, he found himself breathing heavily. "Thank you kindly strangers. I've been through countless of Mother Nature's tantrums and this ain't nothin like any of them. I'll try to make it on my own, but don't worry about me. I am ninety-one years old and ain't got much life left in me. You kids run along and find somewhere safe." He sat for a moment, taking a breath before struggling to stand. As he turned his back to the players, they would find that his entire backside was bright red as if every inch had been attacked. The color as normal in SAO, was slowly retuning to normal but it was definitely a strange occurrence. 

† Dracul and Aru have been consumed by the Storm of Shadows.

Round Four will end in 72 hours [Nov 17th at 11pm EST]

The LD Threshold is 3.

Resounding laughter rang out from the void, echoing in the deepest recesses of their minds.

“YES!  That’s it!  Hit him harder!  Make the mad cow suffer!  See him truly, my friends, how humiliated he is at the very notion of being brought low by the likes of you.  It will make a fitting end, though I think it more sporting to see you carve each other up more first.”

Orgoth’s actions still came in awkward jerks and spurts, but the speed and strength behind them was terrifying to behold.  All that power, and yet he was no more than a plaything to The Shadow.  Its infectious darkness could be seen boiling within his eyes and blood alike, emerging in the form of black smoke from his flaring nostrils as he seethed.

“You think yourselves the bravest and the best that Aincrad has to offer?  Yet you can barely manage to take down this over-aged meat-puppet!  Where’s the one with the hot dog cart?  Maybe he brought a barbeque with him, and we can throw on some nice, thick, juicy steaks.”

The boss’ taunts turned against his own pet, as more and more steel struck home, chipping away at his health.

“See the ones with the orange lamps, Orgoth?  Isn’t it thoughtful of them to have clustered as they have?  I’ll take them next, when you’re gone, and see their talents turned against their fellows once more.  They have the knack, you see, and the taste for their fellows’ blood.  It would be so easy to let their darkness out to play.”  More sinister laughter followed, laced with malevolent and hateful intent.  Each player silently prayed that the monster’s mentions were but bluffs, though one or two might harbour secret desires that such a thing were actually to manifest.  They felt a coldness coiling around and down their spines, as if the dark tendrils of the puppetmaster were slowly slithering inside, just waiting to take hold.  A battery of mockery then boomed in a voice that seemed to be growing deeper and grander with every passing moment, splintering into a dozen thundering and overlapping, cacophonic calls.

“Ooh!  An impressive title that counts for nothing, and will stand for nothing when the mantle it sits on falls!”

“A lost child, perhaps?  Desperate for recognition and kinship?  Who would bring such a whelp to the party, and then leave him abandoned in the dark?”

“I like the next one, with the past dripping in blood, who deludes herself that a tint of orange can serve as sufficient cover-up.  Her sins are black enough to match my own.  She thinks to heal others, yet cannot heal herself!”

“A sneaky one, full of malice and bile.  I’d like her, if it wasn’t but a thin veil and paltry glaze to conceal the weakness within.”

“There a touch of infectious madness, in that one.  His bile and blade are vectors for spreading it to others.  He hides, but isn’t sure who he should stab.  A simple answer: everyone, before time dwindles.  Soon, there will be no more targets.”

“Green and orange?  I think that’s one’s a leprechaun, and hits about as well as one without his lucky charms!”

“So much pink, and doubts abundant.  Her strength is but weakness behind a thickened shell of eggs.  What will she do in the moment after she cracks?”

“Oh look, another samurai forgotten in an endless sea of origami copies.  Unremarkable, yet clinging to bright clothing as if it will distinguish him in the dark.”

“That other one’s a bundle of doubts wrapped up with insecurities.  Even the others see no worth in his laziness, cowering behind their bluster, he knows all too well that his every effort leads to failure.  Why bother to try at all?”

“Flashy moves in a blinding red blur and haze, yet without substance.  Poor, impotent fool.”

“Look at the majesties on that one!  Oh, and well done!  A bright little prick of light, so magnificently proud, yet soooo completely unreliable.  All light flickers, little dear, and then ultimately fails.  Soon, yours will surrender itself to ashes along with all the rest.”

“Black and red all over?  It’s a lovely the colour scheme, but about as relevant as the papers it emulates.  He, too, will fade soon enough, along with any hope of victory.”

Light dimmed about the room, closing in to crowd the battlefield more tightly and encroaching on the ringing obelisks.   The hanging lamps dimmed, as the air thinned and cooled.  Despite the strength of their opening salvo, the front lines felt suddenly smothered and chilled.  Breathing grew harder as Shadow’s angry bark commanded his hated minion to assault them anew.

“MOOve, flesh-sack!  Keep them busy a while longer.  They’ve already taken the bait and pulled their strength out of position, leaving their kin and homes exposed.”  

Then, just as suddenly, blasting thunder became a subtle lilting tone as Shadow sang himself a twisted little tune intended to drive a dagger of doubt into their brave and boastful hearts to slay the hope that dwelled within.

“Darkness reign and rain away, linger with me while we play. Watch these ‘heroes’, wastes of clay, as I end their final day.”
 

ORGOTH'S STATS

PLAYERS' STATS

The fight is currently at [ROTATION 2, ROUND 1]. Players of Parties I & II are called to post once.
The deadline for each round is 72 hours [November 16, 8PM ET].

Round Three

Amos had never been one for rushing. In fact, his neighbors could not be sure if they had ever seen him break into a jog. For all they knew, the man had never even power-walked. Instead, he preferred his standard, ambling gait. Granted, he did limp these days, but nearly a century of life had a way of taking a toll on the body. So did a life of farming. It was back-breaking work, both literally and figuratively, but Amos had come to love it. He worked with the sun as his clock, the seasons as his guide, and the crops to teach him lessons in patience.

As such, Amos moved slowly and deliberately, even as pandemonium played out outside his door. One hand, speckled with liver spots and trembling just slightly, clutched a burlap sack. The other methodically swiped items off of shelves, drew them out of drawers. His grandmother's ancient apple peeler. A framed photo of his late wife. A tattered Farmer's Almanac. Everything went into the bag with a slow, tender gentleness. 

By the time the farmer moved toward the exit, his boots sloshed through an inch of standing water. The tiniest bit of pressure was all it took to open the door, as the wind surged through the crack, and ripped the handle from Amos's hand. The old wood groaned as it rocked on it's hinges, and as he emerged into the storm, Amos finally recognized how bad his situation was. In his ninety one years of life, he had seen Mother Nature's fury many, many times. He had seen corn stalks ripped from the ground, trees toppled, homesteads leveled, and single pieces of straw embedded in wooden fenceposts. The weather was wild, and it was deadly, but it was a natural part of life. This though? There was nothing natural about this.

That was the last thing Amos thought of before, in a howl of wind and a splash of black water, his porch roof tumbled down on him.

† Nightingale has been consumed by the Storm of Shadows.

Round Three will end in 72 hours [Nov 13th at 11pm ET]
Please be sure to read the below Player Notes.
[Timer]

The LD Threshold is 2.

Amidst the dim and darkened world The Shadow had created, sparks of hope flashed and flickered in the form of various Sword Arts. Although subdued and muted, those colors were the harbinger of the frontlines’ rallying charge. Like fireworks in a cloudy sky, light beat back the darkness as power poured into weapons. Debuffs pierced the shadows, peppering the towering Orgoth as he lifted the axes over his head.

If the minotaur noticed, he gave no indication; he did not so much as swat away the effects before taking a step toward the waiting players. Each move the creature made was jarring, as if his muscles strained painfully with every action. His red eyes rolled violently in his horned head, and a grimace drew taut across his maw even as he turned to the nearest player. The keen edges of his double blades caught the dim light; they made a soft whoosh as they cut the air, and a sickening thwack as they met fabric, then flesh. Then, like a marionette commanded by an unseen hand, Orgoth jerkily drew his weapons back again.

The puppet master’s laughter bounced off the walls, his eerie amusement wrapping the players as efficiently as his cloak of darkness. “Did you really think such cheap tricks could work against me? Clearly, you’ve forgotten just who you’re dealing with.” As Orgoth’s bulk shifted to face yet another victim, the Shadow’s voice came again. “Allow me to remind you.”

Once more, the beast swung his twin axes over his head, then lodged them firmly in the nearby tank’s heavy armor. When no crimson gash was left behind, a flicker of awareness came into Orgoth’s eyes. Though he quickly readied his weapons for another strike, and the recognition was extinguished like a wind-swept flame, its presence was unmistakable. The battle between the minotaur and the players was not the only war being waged.
 

ORGOTH'S STATS

PLAYERS' STATS

The fight is currently at [ROTATION 1, ROUND 2]. Players of Parties III & IV are called to post once.
The deadline for each round is 72 hours [November 12, 2AM ET].
[timer]

Round Two

"Go, get inside the house!" Desiree commanded, shouting to be heard above the thundering rain and roaring wind. Black raindrops pelted her skin as she shoved Mara toward the front door. When the girl stood rooted to the spot, staring, transfixed, at the ink-stained sky, her mother simply scooped Mara into her arms. Together, the pair tumbled into their home seconds before the wind snatched the door and slammed it with all the force of an angry teenager. 

Though the sun's rays fought to permeate the darkness, clouds like columns of soot beat back the light. Thunder rolled, the low, guttural growl of a cornered animal. Even as the rain poured, and the shadows consumed the last of the light, a sense of foreboding lingered. It could get worse. It would get worse.

The NPCs huddled together in the corner of their bedroom, Mara held tightly to Desiree's chest. The girl kept her eyes scrunched closed, though she remained comforted by her mother's gentle murmuring. If only Desiree could believe those reassuring words herself. Panic coursed through her like electricity, but she could not bring herself to rationalize the situation. This isn't supposed to be happening. This is wrong. It was as if a mental barrier kept Desiree from choosing her next step, or the best course of action, so she would simply stay where she was.

A sudden cold unlike any Desiree had felt before washed over her. Trembling, she glanced upward to find a steady stream of black water leaking through her window, and pouring over her head. The storm, it seemed, had still found her.

Round Two will end in 72 hours [Nov 10th at 5pm ET]
This is the final round for players to join. The event will be closed to after this deadline.

The LD Threshold is 1.

<<Storm of Shadows>>

“Mamma, what’s that?”

Desiree straightened, dragging the back of her dirty hand across her sweaty forehead. The hoe she had diligently worked the soil with rested against her arm, and she rolled her shoulders stiffly as she turned to her daughter. “What’s what, Mara?”

The girl bounded up to Desiree, her curls bouncing like springs, and pointed at the sky. Dark clouds spread like massive wings across the once-blue canvas, a bird of prey that chased off the warmth and light. 

“Just a storm coming,” came the woman’s matter-of-fact reply.

Those blonde corkscrews bounced again as the child shook her head. “No,” Mara countered. “It’s wrong. Don’t you feel it?”

Something in the girl’s answer sent a chill down Desiree’s spine. At the same time, fat raindrops began to fall from the ever-darkening sky. A cold gust of wind blasted through the valley, sending the long blades of grass bowing beneath its might. The hoe fell to ground as Desiree stepped away from the garden, one hand grabbing for her daughter, and the other for her wildly flapping skirts. Her salt and pepper hair blasted back from her flushed face as she drew Mara closer. Only then did she notice the girl’s outstretched hand, and the small pool of liquid collecting in her palm. Where Desiree should have found clear rain water, there was only a thick, black ink.

Shouts went up from the nearby houses, likely from people coming to the same realization. Even the heavily-armored individuals who generally seemed at ease in their village appeared panicked by the strange phenomenon. They ran together in small packs, heading for the plaza in the town’s center. Those like Desiree, who had spent their entire lives in the same houses, now ducked into those rickety dwellings. With crashes lost to the howling wind, they slammed their doors against the strange new threat.

Desiree could see it, and she could hear it. Deep down, in the very fiber of her being, she could also feel that something was very, very wrong.
 

Rules

• Players may only participate with one of their characters in this event. Those involved in the boss fight may participate in this event with an alt.
• Players participating will post once per round, roleplaying their escape from the storm. They may focus on aiding other players, helping NPCs, looting buildings, saving themselves, etc. How your character reacts to the disaster is entirely up to you.
• The shadows quickly consume the teleport gate, stranding all players on the seventh floor.
• Players will roll the Loot Die to determine if they manage to keep going.
• Any player that fails to post in the allotted time is assumed to have a Loot dice roll of zero. They can be saved if another player sacrifices a part of their LD to save them (read below for more information).
• Each round will last 72 hours.
• Players do not need to include their stats/inventory for this event - they will not be used.
• There is no real risk involved in this event. Your character cannot die, and player level, skills, and equipment will provide no benefits. 

Mechanics

• Each turn, every player still remaining will roll the Loot Dice to determine if they managed to escape the storm. If their roll matches or exceeds the minimum amount, they continue on with the event.
  • Should a player not meet the Loot Dice requirement, they are swallowed up into the storm. They may post once more to describe their experience in the storm. Afterwards, they may not continue posting in the event.
    • Upon becoming consumed by the shadows, players will find themselves in a place where they can't see, hear, or smell anything. The only thing they feel is a brisk cold that continues to grow colder until the player becomes completely numb to it. 
• A player may sacrifice some of their Loot Dice roll to add it on to another player. They may only aid one person per round.
  • I.E: The requirement to escape the Storm of Shadows is a LD:10. Player A rolls a LD:12. Afterwards, Player B rolls a LD:9. Player A sacrifices part of their roll, making their LD:11 and Player B's LD:10. Both Player A and Player B continue.
• A player may sacrifice enough of their LD to send their total below the threshold, but they will fail in the process.
  • I.E: The requirement to escape the Storm of Shadows is a LD:10. Player A rolls a LD:12. Afterwards, Player B rolls a LD:2. Player A sacrifices part of their roll, making their LD:4 and Player B's LD:10. Player B continues on, but Player A is lost to the storm.

Posting & Template

• If you plan to give or receive LD values, you must edit your post to reflect this.
  • Both the giver and the receiver must note the transaction in their post.
  • No edits will be allowed past the deadline, so no further trading may take place.
• All posts must include the following template somewhere. You only need to fill out the bottom two parts if you are giving/receiving.
  Spoiler

  ID#:
  Initial Roll Value:
  Giving or Receiving: List who you're giving to or receiving from, and how much.
  Final Roll Value: The value after you've added or subtracted.

   

Round One will end in

The LD Threshold is 0.

Wisps of ozone and the stench of stale air was the only immediate sign that the barrier had fallen.  The gathered champions advanced with a mixture of caution and anticipation as dim light shimmered, barely visible in the void ahead.  Their own sources of illumination struggled against the oppressive weight that closed in about them.  Fragments of ornamental architecture floated in and out of the depths, like memories of places and times long gone hovering at the edges of perception in a distant dream or pending nightmare.  The hollow safety of the vestibule diminished and then vanished completely as they moved deeper into the gloom.  There would be no easy way back.

A ruined chamber of unfathomable size and dimension opened before them, its edges fading in and out of existence.  Everything here was gray, subdued of colour, joy and warmth.  Life itself seemed unwanted in this place.  Torches burned with muted light on the inner faces of a series of stone columns scattered about the scene, each roughly twenty feet tall and curling towards the center at their tops.  Bits of broken masonry floated in defiance of gravity in the upper portions of the room, as if harbingers of the destructive oblivion they had rushed to face.  The broken stone slabs on the floor were likewise uneven, unbalanced, and uncertain of their foundations.  It all felt... wrong.

At the center of the room was a hollowed crater, nearly ten feet deep and forty feet across.  The ground within was wholly pulverized.  A large and massively muscled minotaur knelt within, its hair matted with dust and oily black residue of some unknown and sinister nature.  Its figure was identical to the statue of the patron of Iron Fist, for here was Orgoth in the flesh.  Those champions who had faced the shadow in the labyrinth recognized him instantly.  He looked weary and tense, straining against himself and the menace that sought to consume and control him.

“Ah!”  Barked a booming, jovial voice from the all-consuming darkness around them.  The image of a greatly self-satisfied feline came to mind while listening to its taunts.  This cat was practically purring with glee.  “The irritant gnats have returned, or most of them at least.  And you’ve brought friends!?  How nice.  More pawns into the field, and puppets to be played against each other.”  Shadow’s words came from nowhere and everywhere at once, leading more than a few players to wonder whether he was somehow rattling about their minds.  The tone of the words was like syrup laced with poison in the ear, barely concealing a lethal and infinite appetite for their anguish and suffering.

Orgoth’s form raised itself awkwardly from the crater, darkness shifting behind his burning red eyes as he raised twin axes menacingly.  

“Come, at me, fools," called the Shadow.  "Bring forth your 'just wrath' and 'righteous fury', and all the tantalizing sass that goes with it.  Let’s play for awhile, and see if you're still smiling as your lights go out.”

ORGOTH'S STATS

PLAYERS' STATS

The fight is currently at [ROTATION 1, ROUND 1]. Players of Party I and II are called to post once.
The time limit for each round is 72 hours. For this round only, this time limit has been extended to 96 hours.
The deadline is on [Nov 7, at 11am EST].
[timer]

Darkness. The universe was born from it. Light came screaming out of the Void, creating the precursors to life as we know it in the blink of an eye. This light - this raging fire of creation - shattered the dark abyss. The dark fled in the face of such unending brilliance. Yet, it is when the light is at its brightest that shadows are the deepest. Shattered, scattered, and fragmented - the dark found refuge in the darkest places. The deepest caves, the depths of the ocean, and even in the hearts of Men.

Dark calls unto Dark. A siren's song draws you in, beckons you forward. The Dark given form and purpose. Drunk on his own power, He lies in wait. A God lies dead at His feet. A Hero remains caught in His clutches. Cling to the light of hope but beware:

Shadows lengthen when the light shines the brightest.

Torch light flickers upon the walls. Intricate stonework veiled in a cloak of black, given only the faintest respite from the dark by the flames. The spellwork that kept The Shadow bound has been undone. Instead of an illusion of a hard-fought battle, only the dark stronghold awaits. The door to the Endless Maze remains wide open, beckoning the warriors forward. Once inside, the warriors will find their entry barred by an invisible force. Only the foyer is open to them. A staging ground for their preparations. There's a feeling of uneasiness heavy upon the room, as if one was being watched from all directions. That would be the least of the warriors' problems should they choose to stay. Beyond the unease, raw malevolence oozes from every crack and crevice. Any surface untouched by the light exudes an aura of pure evil. There isn't much one can do about it short of staying the course. The barrier would fall eventually. And when that happens, all Hell will break loose.



Guidelines
- Players will have an extended sign-up period. Initial posting period will run until 12:00 AM EST November 1, 2020
- If any Players finish any roleplays or gain any items they wish to add to their stat blocks, this must be done before the deadline.
- Following the initial sign-up period, Players will be given an additional 48 hours to divide themselves up into parties. Players will not be allowed to post IC during that 48 hours. They must send their party lineups to Oscar. If parties are not assigned, you will be divided into parties by Staff.
- The traditional strike rule is being suspended for this battle. Players will be eligible for rewards so long as they have posted for more than half of the total Boss rotations. Failure to post for at least half will mean that no rewards - even page rewards - will be earned for this encounter.