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Abomination Illusion Set is a set of 9 Epic items. Loot from the Mobile:Thratu's Abomination (Raid).
The Set
Name | Att | Def | AV | Per | Ability | Obtained | |
---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
Abomination Illusion Mace | 302 | 295 | 376 | Abominable Assault: Chance for bonus damage; Extra damage for each unique Abomination Illusion item owned | Thratu's Abomination (Raid) | ||
Abomination Illusion Blade | 302 | 295 | 376 | Abominable Assault: Chance for bonus damage; Extra damage for each unique Abomination Illusion item owned | Mobile:Thratu's Abomination (Raid) | ||
Abomination Illusion Face | 302 | 295 | 376 | Abominable Assault: Chance for bonus damage; Extra damage for each unique Abomination Illusion item owned | Mobile:Thratu's Abomination (Raid) | ||
Abomination Illusion Chest | 302 | 295 | 376 | Abominable Assault: Chance for bonus damage; Extra damage for each unique Abomination Illusion item owned | Mobile:Thratu's Abomination (Raid) | ||
Abomination Illusion Hands | 302 | 295 | 376 | Abominable Assault: Chance for bonus damage; Extra damage for each unique Abomination Illusion item owned | Mobile:Thratu's Abomination (Raid) | ||
Abomination Illusion Legs | 302 | 295 | 376 | Abominable Assault: Chance for bonus damage; Extra damage for each unique Abomination Illusion item owned | Mobile:Thratu's Abomination (Raid) | ||
Abomination Illusion Feet | 302 | 295 | 376 | Abominable Assault: Chance for bonus damage; Extra damage for each unique Abomination Illusion item owned | Mobile:Thratu's Abomination (Raid) | ||
Abomination Illusion Ring | 302 | 295 | 376 | Abominable Assault: Chance for bonus damage; Extra damage for each unique Abomination Illusion item owned | Mobile:Thratu's Abomination (Raid) | ||
Abomination Illusion Monstrosity | 453 | 442 | 564 | Abominable Assault: Chance for bonus damage; Extra damage for each unique Abomination Illusion item owned | Crafting |
Full Set Bonus
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Raid Attack Value: 3569.5 | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Duel Power: 2388 |
Lore
I. "I told them to stop selling their crap in my city. With most criminals, that usually works. Not because I'm a guardswoman. There are plenty of guards in Bridgeport the scum laugh at, or think they can buy (hell, half the time they're right...). No. It works because cutthroats gossip like nobles at a ball or whores on a street corner. So they all know what happened to Rebton Nine-Fingers, Fat Duco, and everyone else who thought they could prey on innocent Porters.
*I* happened. And if the rest of the scum didn't want me to happen to them as well, they listened and backed off. But not this lot. The gold shone bright enough to make them all brave. Big mistake." -- Sergeant Shannon of the Bridgeport city guard |
II. "They called it Blood Rush, because it makes the blood rush to your brain faster than a boy's rushes to his pants when he's groping around with his first girl. Something the alchemists came up with, and decided was more profitable than healing potions. Made from powdered oroc crystals and -- if you believe the rumors -- about a dozen other ingredients that'd make you vomit if you heard them (pulverized goblin scrotum, anyone?). Snort it up your nose and your piece of crap life explodes with more sights and sounds than the gods have in heaven.
Sounds great, huh? But get the mixture wrong... A little too much of one thing, a bit less of another... Ever seen a woman's brains come out her nose? I have. And I damn well knew I didn't want to see it again. So I leaned on the scum. Broke a few fingers. Tapped some heads with my truncheon. Put the word out. No one sells Blood Rush in Bridgeport. If the stupid bastards had just been smart enough to listen..." -- Sergeant Shannon of the Bridgeport city guard |
III. "It wasn't hard to track Wazz's boys down. I just walked the streets till I found some idiot trying to make love to a wall he thought was a dwarf. A glug from my special flask (not all the city's alchemists are on the wrong side of the law) and a dunking in a horse trough sobered him up. After a longer dunking and a good kicking, he told me where he bought the Blood Rush. Wazz was dealing it out of his own hideout. When a criminal doesn't even bother to cover his tracks, it shows you what he thinks of the guard.
That offended me. Mostly because he was right. No one else was going to go for him. Not Wazz, whose gold found its way into half the councilmen and women's purses, and paid for the mayor's new carriage. If I wanted to bring the stupid little gnome down, I'd have to do it on my own. But that was fine with me. I was in the mood for a fight. So I went to his old mansion in the slums. The place was a relic from the days when that part of the city used to be the fashionable quarter, and Porters flocked to live there. Now just a ruined, rotting shell, like the rest of the neighborhood." -- Sergeant Shannon of the Bridgeport city guard |
IV. "Wazz's lookouts were as useless as the guardsmen who spend their nights in his brothel with their official breeches around their ankles. The first two must've got bored standing around in the cold, and sampled their own product. One giggled and called me a walrus. A headbutt put her down. The other said he was a fairy, and tried to fly. Managed a pretty good backflip, till he landed on his head. Blood in the gutter. Welcome to Bridgeport.
The third was better at her job. Quick, alert. Weak jaw though. Our uniforms may be cheap crap that an adventurer wouldn't even bother looting, but the gauntlets have nice hard knuckles. I've done more damage with those things than the truncheon. One punch and I was walking down the garden path, through the tangled plants." -- Sergeant Shannon of the Bridgeport city guard |
V. "The backdoor was warded. After Corporal Gats stormed a witch's house, burst into the cellar where she was keeping her victims, then burst all over its walls, we'd learned to spot the signs. I even recognized the workmanship. Kikki's. That damn enchantress was one of Wazz's kin, and used to ward places for any cutthroat with a bit of coin. One day she cast a spell wrong and blew her own guts out of her back. No big loss. But to this day, we still come across some of her old work.
They'd boarded all the windows up. But the front door wasn't sealed with anything more than a couple of bolts. The scum needed it that way, so their customers could keep coming in with their money and leaving with their Blood Rush. So head-on it was. Not the best way of taking a hideout solo, but it wasn't my first time. Not by a long shot. Rusty bolts, rotting wood. One good kick opened it right up. The commander says we're meant to shout, "City guard! Drop your weapons!" when we smash into a place. Screw that. The filth can see the uniform. They know who we are. If they're stupid enough to resist, they deserve whatever they get. And that night, 'whatever' wasn't a truncheon. Not for the pieces of zombie crap who peddled their poison in my city. When I went through the door, my sword was out instead." -- Sergeant Shannon of the Bridgeport city guard |
VI. "The door was cheap, but the muscle wasn't. The orc on the other side was about as big as an ogre. That mace in his hands would've knocked my skull all the way to Dracoshire. But you need space to use a blunt weapon, and good luck finding that when a woman who's sick of scum is up close with her hand around your family jewels and her teeth around your nose. One squeeze, one tear, and he was hopping around shrieking. A quick thrust took him out.
Two of the servants screamed and ran for the stairs. I let them go. The jail's for real criminals, not the people who serve them dinner. But the thugs who came at me with blades... Well, they wouldn't go to jail either. They'd be heading to the undertaker's. In sacks. I went through the place fast, all spit and steel, leaving blood and corpses behind me (if the rest of the guards couldn't have my back, the worthless bastards could at least clean up afterwards). Wazz was still sitting at his desk when I knocked his office door open with his bodyguard's head -- silly red hat bobbing over a heap of more gold than I'd earn in the next three years. He went for his crossbow. My throwing knife was faster." -- Sergeant Shannon of the Bridgeport city guard |
VII. "Commander Erin wasn't happy. A captain once told me Wazz paid for her family's winter festival dinner last year, and send her a case of wine on her birthday. But she'd get over it. There were plenty more bribes to be had in the city, and she wasn't particular. So I just let her shout about how reckless I was. Me, reckless? I was still standing, while Wazz and most of his filth were in the undertaker's cellar.
Wazz gone, and no more Blood Rush. A job well done. So I went to the Cock and Bull for a drink. Okay, three or four. Pitchers. Then I went home to sleep it off. A good night's work. The morning, though... I don't get hangovers. They're for the kinds of people who don't bite orcs' noses off. Still, I could've done with more sleep. So when I got to the guardhouse I was in the mood to headbutt first and ask questions later. And things didn't get any better when I heard the news. Wazz was gone, along with his muscle." -- Sergeant Shannon of the Bridgeport city guard |
VIII. "First, I swore. A lot. Then I visited the undertaker and shook him by the throat until I was sure he didn't have anything to do with it. Someone broke into his building and stole the bodies. And unless they were stupid enough to drag dead people through the streets, they'd have needed a cart. Didn't take long for me to find out where it'd gone. Straight out of the south gate -- where the night guard were too busy sleeping at their posts to bother checking vehicles leaving the city. What did they care if illegal goods went *out* of Bridgeport? That was a problem for the guards in whichever town they ended up in... Lazy bastards.
I saw it all. Wazz, that steaming pile of troll crap, must've made arrangements with a necromancer. If he got what was coming to him, his people would just smuggle his body someplace else and have it raised. Not the first time the scum have decided to play the zombie trick. Hell, Rotting Ralphus ran his gang for twenty years after he got stabbed through the heart -- till someone had the good sense to lop his head off. I told Commander Erin I was going to find the bodies. She slapped me down and said I was paid to look after Bridgeport, not the whole wide world. So I shrugged, told her that was fine, but said I was owed some holiday time..." -- Sergeant Shannon of the Bridgeport city guard |
IX. "Tracking a cart down in the countryside? Might as well try finding a particular flea on a felpuur's back. But I wasn't going to let Wazz get away. When I kill scum, they stay dead, damn it! So I went from inn to inn, village to village, asking questions and leaning on people who didn't want to talk. Yeah, outside Bridgeport I didn't have any authority. But here's a tip: when you have a thug up against the wall, with your sword at his throat, you don't need it.
The stories they blurted out told me two things. One, I was on the right track. Two, things were more complicated than I thought. Wazz and his gang weren't the only dead that'd gone missing. They were getting snatched left and right. Sometimes the living as well. They'd wander into the woods, and never be seen again. I know what you're thinking. I was thinking it too. If a necromancer was behind it all, they probably weren't working for Wazz. Sounded more like they were raising a small army. And I didn't care whether it was in Bridgeport, Fallows, or deepest, darkest Chalua. I was damn well going to put a stop to it. So I kept searching, following the trail. Met up with some adventurers who were doing the same. But what we found at the end, in that fortress..." -- Sergeant Shannon of the Bridgeport city guard |