|Anonymous Mask||325||300||400||Strength in Anonymity: Chance for bonus damage; Extra damage for each additional Anonymous item equipped; Extra damage for each unique Beastman Marauder equipment piece owned; Extra damage against Beastmen||The Grey Death|
|Anonymous Armor||325||300||400||Strength in Anonymity: Chance for bonus damage; Extra damage for each additional Anonymous item equipped; Extra damage for each unique Beastman Marauder equipment piece owned; Extra damage against Beastmen||The Grey Death|
|Anonymous Fingers||325||300||400||Strength in Anonymity: Chance for bonus damage; Extra damage for each additional Anonymous item equipped; Extra damage for each unique Beastman Marauder equipment piece owned; Extra damage against Beastmen||The Grey Death|
|Anonymous Leggings||325||300||400||The Grey Death|
|Anonymous Footwear||325||300||400||The Grey Death|
|Anonymous Ring||325||300||400||The Grey Death|
|Anonymous Broadsword||325||300||400||The Grey Death|
|Anonymous Death Chain||325||300||400||The Grey Death|
|Anonymous Steed||475||425||581||Strength in Anonymity: Chance for bonus damage; Extra damage for each additional Anonymous item equipped; Extra damage if the Beastman Marauder Prisoner is owned; Extra damage against Beastmen||The Grey Death|
Full Set Bonus
|Raid Attack Value: 3781.25|
|Duel Power: 2500|
This set is a tribute to the DotD Anonymous guild on Kongregate.
|1. "Another!" The bard slammed her empty tankard onto the countertop. "I need another draught of inspiration."
The innkeeper gave his unruly guest a sour look. "I'd say you've had enough inspiration for one night."
"Nonsense!" The bard shook the mug. "I need more! I've been assigned with writing an epic about the heroes who defeated Byron Siculus!"
"I'd think that would be a cherry assignment." The innkeeper's tone was dismissive. "Wouldn't that story practically write itself?"
"Ah. Ah!" The bard waved a finger. "You'd think so, but it's not so easy to write about Anonymous."
|2. "Anonymous what?" The innkeeper's annoyed tone made it clear he didn't enjoy nonsensical conversations.
"Anonymous. That's the name the heroes have assigned to their band." The bard glowered at the empty tankard in her hands. "It's like they have a vendetta against my profession."
|3. "Can't you just write a song addressing the actions of each member in the group?" The innkeeper had stopped polishing the wood of the counter.
"You'd think so!" The bard threw her hands up in the air, the few remaining drops of ale flying across the room. "But no! Anonymous isn't just their group's name; it's this whole ridiculous lifestyle they embrace. They all dress the same, meaning each individual was lost in the crowd when they raided Siculus's castle!"
|4. The innkeeper took the young woman's tankard from her hands and went to refill it from the keg. "So let me see if I have this straight: You've been tasked with writing a ballad --"
"Epic," the bard interrupted with a moan.
"Right. Epic. Sorry. You've been tasked with writing an epic about a group called Anonymous, who protect the anonymity of their members with their uniforms, and refuse to identify themselves in public?"
"Exactly!" The bard was all but screeching in despair now. "How am I supposed to do my job?"
|5. "I don't suppose you could ask for a change of assignment from the Mistress of Songs?" The innkeeper looked sympathetic as he handed the tankard back to his sole remaining customer.
"The Mistress of Songs hates me." The bard's whine had changed to a sulky grumble. "Why do you think she gave me this task? What better way to flunk someone out of the Bard's Guild than to give them an epic that's literally impossible to write because it's focused on this band of Anonymous warriors?"
|6. The bard dropped her head to the countertop. "Make Anonymous the stars of an epic. I'm doomed," she moaned, pounding her fist in time to her words.
"Well, let's think about this. Every problem has a solution." The innkeeper quietly moved the tankard a few feet out of the way of her hand.
"Can't think." The bard's voice was muffled, distorted by how her face was squashed against the wood. "I'm still too sober."
"You can barely stand."
"That's still too sober right now."
"You know..." The man's eyes grew a little distant as he focused on this strange dilemma. "I think I might have a solution."
|7. "Does your solution involve killing myself?" The bard's head stayed down, her voice still muffled.
"No." The innkeeper couldn't help but chuckle. "Though if you keep drinking all this ale, that might happen anyway."
"Does it involve killing the Mistress of Songs?" The head still didn't move.
The innkeeper made a thoughtful sound then cleared his throat. "Ah. No, but that's not a bad backup plan if this idea for an Anonymous epic doesn't pan out."
The bard's head tilted until an eye with cocked brow was raised above her arms. "I'm listening."
"Why not just make stuff up?"
|8. "'Just make stuff up?'" The bard's look was incredulous. "That would never work! Epics about heroes need to be carefully researched and verified!"
"Right, but who's going to claim your story isn't accurate?"
"I..." The bard's mouth opened and closed, as her argumentative look was replaced by a thoughtful one. "Well, nobody, I suppose."
She held up a hand and began counting on her fingers. "The Mistress of Songs wasn't there, so it's not like she can directly challenge me. Byron Siculus is dead. And the only way this Anonymous group can contest my claims is if they publicly identify themselves."
The woman flashed a drunken smile at her new best friend, who grinned back at her. His solemn tone held an edge of humor in it. "I am full of very good ideas."
|9. Within minutes, the bard had moved to a table by the fireplace and was writing at a furious pace. The innkeeper, in turn, had begun to brew some coffee and begun to heat up the oven so he could cook her a bit of real food.
He hummed as he went about his business, looking over at his guest from time to time to make sure she was still awake.
After he'd served her some food and coffee, the man excused himself for a moment and went to the pantry behind the stairs. As he went to grab bacon, butter, and bread from the larders, he noticed the secret panel was still a bit open, exposing the Anonymous Mask he'd worn the night he cut off Byron Siculus's head.
With his free hand, he pushed the panel closed, hiding his uniform away until it would be needed again.