Description
Tenebra the Shadow-Mistress is the fourth boss encounter for The Dragons' Claw (Area: Falls the Shadow). As with all bosses, Tenebra the Shadow-Mistress can also be battled in a raid with 4 available levels: Normal, Hard, Legendary and Nightmare.
Loot[]
| Name | Att | Def | AV | Per | Ability | Obtained | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
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Tenebra the Shadow-Mistress Essence | Used to summon Tenebra the Shadow-Mistress (Raid) | Tenebra the Shadow-Mistress quest boss | ||||
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Black Bottle of Blood | Used to upgrade Mina von Richten to Mina von Richten2 | Tenebra the Shadow-Mistress quest boss | ||||
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Tenebra's Eye | Used to upgrade the mount Solus3 | Quest Boss - Tenebra the Shadow-Mistress | ||||
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Dark Drake Cuisses | 100 | 90 | 123 | 90 | Ebon Scales: Chance for bonus raid damage | Quest Boss - Tenebra the Shadow-Mistress |
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Brown Dragon's Tooth | Craft x2 Stat Points | The Dragons' Claw raids, quests, help requests | ||||
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Grey Dragon's Tooth | Craft x2 Stat Points | The Dragons' Claw raids, quests, help requests | ||||
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Green Dragon's Tooth | Craft x2 Stat Points | The Dragons' Claw raids, quests, help requests | ||||
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Blue Dragon's Tooth | Craft x2 Stat Points | The Dragons' Claw raids, quests, help requests | ||||
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Purple Dragon's Tooth | Craft x2 Stat Points | The Dragons' Claw raids, quests, help requests | ||||
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Orange Dragon's Tooth | Craft x2 Stat Points | The Dragons' Claw raids, quests, help requests |
Lore[]
Enter battle[]
| Lore |
|---|
| "Let go!" you hiss, desperate to keep your voice low.
The sound of your scuffle -- the pounding of feet, Marcus' shouts, your bodies slamming against each other, the walls, and the floor -- have already made enough din. You need to get out of here... But though a lucky trip put him on his back, Marcus is as tenacious as a hunting dog. He clutched you as he fell, bringing you down with him. Now his limbs entangle yours, holding you in place. Even as you struggle, trying to pull yourself free from his grasp, to break the stalemate, you curse the fact that he must have a great deal of experience wrestling suspects to the ground. Why wouldn’t he have been one of the less dedicated guardsmen, who resort to the blade or bludgeon regardless of the offense? You manage to extract one of your arms, yanking it from his grasp. Its hand tightens into a fist. "I don't want to hit you," you say, "but-" A wordless cry of anger tears from your throat as he bucks, dislodging you and sending you tumbling in his grasp. Now it's your back pressed into the carpet, him on top of you -- pinning you down. You punch at his face. His head slips to the side, eluding the clumsy blow. His own fist rises up. A horrendous crash of sound tears through the corridor, reverberating within your head as though an arrow's been fired at pointblank range through each of your ears. Marcus' grasp weakens as he likewise falters before the sonic torrent, but you're too shaken to take advantage of it. "I've always thought playername could benefit from an occasional punch in the face, but did you have to do it in the middle of the night?" You and Marcus turn. There stands Medea, dressed in a short elven nightgown. Her harp slung at her side, as always. "Do you sleep with that thing?" Marcus groans. Footfalls come from further down the corridor. "If the two of you want to settle a quarrel, why not wait till the morning?" Roland asks. "Or step outside?" "Tell them," Marcus says. "Tell them what you were going to do." You sigh. The story tumbles out once more. "Let him/her up," Roland says. "Let him/her up, so I can knock him/her back down." --- "The sheer idiocy!" Medea whispers. Her harp whispers in turn, somehow managing to express a full portion of derision in a near-silent note. "The absolute stupidity..." "Are you going to keep that up all the way there?" you ask. "If I kept it up until the end of creation it still wouldn't be enough." You sigh. But it's too late to walk alone into sudden death now. Your companions are with you, and all of them have taken a moment to express their opinion of your recent decision-making. A form slips out of the undergrowth. For a second you entertain that hope that it might be an enemy, leading to a battle which might distract Medea and cause her to abandon her abuse -- at least for a time. But it turns out to be the druid who was sent off to scout. "The dragon is a few hundred yards ahead," she says. "She has a single beastman with her. One of the bat kind." "We need to make sure it doesn't have a chance to escape," you say," and carry a message to the gold dragon." Medea smiles. "Leave the bat to me. A bard I met after the fighting in Fallows taught me a trick that works against their kind." "The dragon might flee herself," Roland says, "when she sees that you're not alone." "Don't worry about the drake," the druid replies. "The trees won't allow her to get away..." ---
"So you've come, human." The blackness shifts and the green lights rise. "I have." "Then let us-" There's a screech from somewhere up in the trees. You focus on a gathering of shadows and perceive the form in their midst -- hanging upside-down from a thick branch. "Not alone!" the bat creature shrieks. "The human has brought allies!" Tenebra growls. There's a rustling in the bushes as your companions join you, relinquishing stealth. "The villagers will pay for your cowardice," the dragon says. The beastman in the treetop unfurls his wings. Whether he intends to join the fight or carry word of your actions to Valanazes is a mystery. And it's one that will never be solved. For Medea acts first. She steps forward. Her fingers strike her harp strings and her mouth opens as though in song. Yet nothing happens. Both voice and instrument are soundless. The bard stands there like a mime, a silent songstress. Were it not for the noises of the surrounding foliage, and the muttering of the nearby druid, you'd think that your hearing had deserted you. But the noiseless song doesn't go unheard. The pteropine beastman's scream is like that of a billion banshees, their voices united to pour forth lifetimes' worth of pain and anguish. Every eye turns to him, and all those present flinch in forced sympathy as the sound ravages your ears. Even Tenebra quails before it, the shadows across her frame quivering like the surface of a troubled lake as she pivots to stare at her minion. Only Medea remains steady and unmoved, her fingers and mouth singing their silent song. The bat wriggles and writhes, dangling from the branch like a worm being jiggled at the end of a fisherman's hook. His wings are wrapped around his head, pressed tight against his ears -- making him seem like a child hiding his face from an imagined horror. Medea's hand quickens against her instrument's strings. Her body shifts and her mouth freezes in its pose as if shaping and holding a single long, inaudible note. There's a howling noise in the dim distance, followed by another and another as the forest's beasts join the cry and give it true voice at last. The beastman's thrashing intensifies, as though a malevolent spirit has possessed his flesh and now rages against the speaking of a holy incantation. His feet slip from the branch and he plummets to the ground below. There's a crack, the sickening noise of shattering bones. But if the bat creature's body is broken, his scream is not. It continues unabated. He convulses on the ground, each violent motion almost hurling his body into the air. Marcus gestures with his gauntleted hand. One of the archers lets fly. The shrieking stops at last. In the blessed silence, you can hear the druid's murmurs once more. Tenebra glares at you. She unfurls her wings, her body shifting in preparation for the leap which will take her airborne. The druid finishes her chant. Branches rustle around the edge of the clearing, a sustained susurration of wood and foliage that forms a whispering din. The trees topple, falling into the clearing, collapsing and... No. They're not falling. They're... bending? You look at the trunk above you. Partway along its great height the wood is angling itself downward, as though the ancient tree were a young and supple sapling. The others are all doing the same, each lofty conifer bending towards the middle of the clearing as though bowing before a master. Their trunks meet in the air above the open space, forming a vaulted dome of greenery, stealing the sky and the dragon's escape route. |
Victory[]
| Lore |
|---|
| "Innocents will pay the price..." Tenebra hisses.
The hiss becomes almost a sigh as the breath leaves her lungs. Blackness seethes across her ebon body. The shadowy coating falls away like sloughing mud, sliding in great rivulets to leave only scales in its wake. The viscous sludge melds into the darkness of the clearing floor, slinking into its depths like a wounded beast in search of shelter. When the druid speaks, and the trees relinquish their hold over the clearing, the starlight reveals no sign of it. In the newly returned light you look up from the drake's corpse and meet Marcus' expressionless gaze. You've alive because of him. Only his hand stopped you from rushing off to inevitable death at Tenebra's claws, maw, and tentacles. And yet you cannot open your mouth, can't muster up a word of thanks. For unless the second part of the plan comes to fruition, unless the desperate stratagem serves you well, dozens of villagers will perish in your stead. So you say nothing, and Marcus looks away. |
Defeat/Flee[]
| Lore |
|---|
| "Where are you running off to?" Medea asks, her harp sending the question into your brain like the blade of an axe. "You were keen enough to come here and die before!" |
Additional Info[]
- Normal -
- Hard - 1820 hp, 720 max damage
- Legendary -
- Nightmare - 4680 hp, 720 max damage