scholar624

DarkPassenger wrote: »

Hmm in all seriousness, I do know 2 people with 500k range that cant kill her, not cause of the damage but they cant do the mechanics. one is a wind archer the other a bishop. wind archer not sure if they've gotten v skills or even 200, bishop just got back into the game after 8 years, she's 214

To give your bishop friend the benefit of the doubt, I too struggled with story mode V. Hilla on my funded Bishop.
The fight requires maintaining high mobility, something explorer mages in general sorely lack; teleport mastery being our only saving grace for dodging in between strings. Stopping to cast Genesis or rebuffing after ress is a quick way of sabotaging yourself.

The only way I was able to beat her was by turning on A. Vengence stance, teleporting behind Hilla when she glows blue (telegraphing her Shade-style spirit bind), and gunning the hag down. Have Bahamut up to take potshots at her undead cronies helped keep them at bay.

Seriously though... couldn't we just splash her with holy water and call it a day?

What would everyone think if Maplestory became a crossover event for another game?

Do you think it would attract the curiosity of other individuals into exploring Maple World?

Heya,
The game will be undergoing an unscheduled maintenance (link to the official announcement) to stop soot glares from crashing everyone.

If you still experience crashes afterwards, continue posting below; include what graphics card and driver your computer uses.

Thanks everyone for being patient, gives the Black Mage a small breather before the GMS community resumes marching towards his front door!

Countless times, I ask up towards heaven wondering the same question: "Why me?”, A bitter breeze blowing across an already jaded heart comes the only reply.


They say time heals all wounds, but does that include mortal traumas to the fragile heart? We are taught to forgive and press on, grudges and memories both dissolving into oblivion. Yet for some, the scars brought forth by fate's cruel handiwork never truly fade away. They remain hidden buried deep from prying eyes behind a single painted innocent smile. With every nostalgic moment corroding jealousy's binding shackles, until a day when that single supporting chain finally snaps in twain.

When malevolence finally awakens from imprisonment, what is one suppose to do with such a strong motivating vigor? Become the selfless sacrificial lamb stopping one's own life in exchange for ending a painful Greek tragedy, or continue living a cursed existence as a mere puppet’s role with little hope of ever achieving purifying redemption?

For one individual, that choice is hastily approaching. In the stormy winter regions of ElNath where glistening ice crystals in the wind share a tranquil beauty beneath a cruel malevolence.

___________________________________________________

It was 5:00 in the morning when her alarm clock's chirping arousing its sleeper from their reverie. Malixion sat up from her bed still groggy and silenced the wakeup call.

“I'm scheduled to work a double shift today. Yet another sunless day and sleepless night ahead for me" she muttered to herself.

Called mostly "Xion" by her coworkers and relatives, she was slightly below average height, with charcoal colored hair bobbed just above her ears. When lacking any sign of sleep deprivation, the youth's eyes would be a vivid shade of azure, contrasting the facial pallor caused by lack of sun exposure.

Sunlight was at a premium being born and raised within the snowy regions of Ossyria, at the base of the ElNath Mountains. Even in mid summer, typical daylight would only last for a mere 6 hours before sinking beneath the polar horizon; welcoming the arctic night air. Yet still, residents in the central town of ElNath were able to adapt accordingly and still went about their casual lives while still extending warm hospitable gestures to travelers who regularly ventured through the area.

Xion contributed to this culture by waiting tables at the town's tavern to make ends meet. Growing up, her dream was to become a renowned researcher uncovering lost fables, tales, and lore. Granted, waiting tables was not her ideal choice of a career but, it was the only opportunity available that would let her cover rent, utilities, and of course satisfy those accursed student loan creditors she thought could help her cut the apron strings.

Upon turning the age of adulthood, she enrolled in Victoria Island's Ellinia Magic Academy to study legends following the great heroes while dabbing into rudimentary magic as an elective. The tranquility of becoming one with the world while harnessing the will of ethereal mana greatly intrigued the young student and gave her yet another field of study to excel at. Being natural exposed to the cold elements during childhood served most useful in invoking the arctic will of nature for potent ice spells.

After a few years, Xion graduated from the academy as both a historian and an intermediate magician in ice magic. Applying her skills and talents proved to be a challenge more gruesome than final examinations.

Even after all this educational training, all this time and effort studying, and financial risk in obtaining her graduation degree, Xion still was unable to find any employer who would hire such a fresh novice at a salary capable of wiping away her debt.

Feeling exhausted and defeated, the former student returned back home and continued working at the tavern as if nothing had happened in between the years spent on sabbatical. For now, all that could be done was to keep the mesos coming in, hoping of ever escaping this occurring debt.

It was now 5:15.

Xion donned her server's apron, slipped on her black coat over the top of the uniform, and stepped into the dark bitter twilight air.

It’s a toss up between Ark and Evan.

Ark is such a relatable character; discovering the true horrors of war and quelling afterwards with ones inner demons (metaphorically and literally).

The chemistry between Evan and Mir is golden. Both being completely new to the outside world, yet the comic banter between them is refreshing; even if their naivety leads to being more easily manipulated than one of Francis’ marionettes.