Echoes of Blood and Shadow: My Dance with the Traitorous Straghess

I stand at the precipice of darkness, my blade gleaming in the dim light of The Forsaken Hollows. This new expansion to Elden Ring Nightreign has consumed my waking hours since its release earlier this year. Like a moth drawn to fatal flame, I find myself irresistibly pulled toward the challenges that await in these haunted depths, where nightmares take physical form and dance with abandoned glee.

The Crimson Waltz

The Traitorous Straghess stands before me, a monument to malice disguised as flesh. Though only the second boss in this expansion, he towers like a cathedral of bone and sinew, his presence as suffocating as a burial shroud wrapped too tight. My encounters with him have been numerous, each ending with my blood painting abstract patterns across ancient stone.

His first phase unfolds like a grotesque ballet, each swing of his arms like the pendulum of a clock counting down to my inevitable demise. I've learned to iframe through his attacks, my body momentarily becoming as insubstantial as a whisper in a hurricane. The creatures he summons scatter across the battlefield like fallen autumn leaves, small at first but growing into twisted forms if left unattended.

I've noticed Straghess collecting damage stacks during this phase, his power growing like a cancer feeding on my hesitation. Twice during our dance, he sucks blood from the ground with the desperate thirst of a desert wanderer finding an oasis. Sometimes he forms this essence into a projectile; other times, he raises it skyward—a signal for me to retreat as the ground erupts like a volcano of flesh and gore, leaving crimson puddles in its wake.

Symphony of Despair

The second phase arrives with a scream that tears through my soul like rusted barbed wire. Structures rise around the arena, useless decorations for our final performance. His attacks come faster now, a blur of motion that requires my fingers to move with the precision of a master pianist striking impossible chords.

Two mechanics have claimed my life more times than I care to admit:

1. The Targeted Assault - A flurry of strikes culminating in an AOE explosion that spreads like plague across the battlefield, spawning puddles that seem to reach for my ankles with hungry determination.

2. The Tower of Dread - Initially a single column from which he launches himself like a bolt from a crossbow, this attack evolves into a forest of putrid spires erupting from the earth. The subsequent explosion sends linear attacks across the arena that cut through space like the scythe of Death itself.

These towers rise from the ground like the fingers of buried giants clawing their way back to the world of the living. When they appear, I run as though chased by my own mortality, seeking clear sight of my tormentor to anticipate his next move.

Strategies for the Desperate

For those walking this path after me, I offer these insights:

• 🛡️ Phase One Survival

• Dodge through attacks rather than away

• Don't obsess over the smaller creatures; they're more distraction than threat

• Watch for the blood-gathering animation and prepare to create distance

• ⚔️ Phase Two Tactics

• Keep your camera centered on Straghess at all times

• After his scream, prepare for increased attack speed

• When towers begin to form, prioritize positioning over damage output

The Scholar class offers particular advantages with its health regeneration triggered by ailments—a small mercy in this merciless encounter.

Beyond the Veil

After countless attempts that blur together like fever dreams, I finally witnessed Straghess fall. Though he is but a stepping stone to the expansion's true final challenge—the Dreglord—conquering him felt like emerging from a long submersion in dark water, lungs burning with the sweetness of survival.

The path ahead leads to greater horrors still. The Dreglord waits at the conclusion of this forsaken journey, his defeat promising The Night of Dregs relic and closure to this chapter of darkness.

As I rest at a site of grace, my thoughts drift to the battles yet to come. In The Forsaken Hollows, every victory is but a prelude to greater challenge, every triumph merely permission to face more exquisite suffering.

And yet, like a gambler ruined by addiction, I rise again to throw myself against these impossible odds—for what is the Elden Ring experience if not beautiful agony?