|This content is the same for both the web and mobile versions of Dawn of the Dragons|
|Wraith Illusion Scythe||400||150||438||Increases Energy by 35, Stamina by 15; +3 Energy and 1 Stamina for each additional Wraith Illusion item equipped||Current Expeditions|
|Wraith Illusion Dagger||400||150||438||Increases Energy by 35, Stamina by 15; +3 Energy and 1 Stamina for each additional Wraith Illusion item equipped||Current Expeditions|
|Wraith Illusion Head||380||250||443||Increases Energy by 35, Stamina by 15; +3 Energy and 1 Stamina for each additional Wraith Illusion item equipped||Current Expeditions|
|Wraith Illusion Chest||380||250||443||Current Expeditions|
|Wraith Illusion Hands||380||250||443||Current Expeditions|
|Wraith Illusion Legs||380||250||443||Current Expeditions|
|Wraith Illusion Feet||380||250||443||Current Expeditions|
|Wraith Illusion Ring||400||150||438||Current Expeditions|
|Wraith Illusion Steed||540||300||615||Increases Energy by 120 and Stamina by 20||Current Expeditions|
|Anya||500||800||700||60||Witch in Wraith's Clothing: Chance for bonus damage; Increases Player's Attack, Defense, and Perception by 60||Current Expeditions|
Full Set Bonus
|Raid Attack Value: 4140|
|Duel Power: 2400|
|I. Anya looked into the mirror and grinned. Her reflection's expression didn't change, of course. But that was okay. The fleshless face already wore a horrific smile. Skulls always looked happy, as though they understood a joke that was beyond the living's ken. Her grin broadened -- causing the skeletal jaw to open in silent laughter. That thought stuck her as being so very appropriate.|
|II. Last year they'd humiliated her. Jur and the other louts, with their stupid masks. Gods! What kind of idiots jumped out at a girl while she was carrying a basket of eggs? Anya was no coward. She'd played with spiders back when the scuttling creatures had made Jur scream like a girl, and of all the village children only she'd dared run errands for the local witch. But that sudden ambush in the dark had startled her. Jur and his cronies went off into the night, cackling like hyenas -- leaving her lying there, splattered with whites, yolks, and bits of smashed shell.
This year it was her turn to do the frightening.
|III. She stepped out into the night. Her cloak billowed around her, dark and drifting fabric that brushed against bare bones. As much a shadow as a garment. The illusion magic, cribbed from her mistress' spellbook, was perfect. Gazing down at the exposed ribcage made her shiver. But the thought of the coming jape filled her sorcery-shrouded belly with warmth.
This Pumpkin Night would be unforgettable...
|IV. The costumed children charged down the lane, whooping like Caelian warriors or Nord berserkers. Bulging sacks swung at their sides, bashed against their legs, and rustled with the promise of cloying gluttony. It had been a good haul. The villagers were generous whenever the festivals came around. The witch said merry children kept Jack away on Pumpkin Night, while weeping ones summoned him forth. They'd heeded her words.
"The mayor's house!" a boy said.
"The mayor's house!" a girl agreed.
They all cheered. The mayor always had big bowls of sweets for them, and she never let anyone go home without a full sack. But their cheers soon became screams.
|V. "Kill them!" The largest monster roared and beat his chest. "Kill them all!"
"Tear their heads off!" one of the others said.
"Eat their... their livers!" another said. He capered around, hissing, clawing the air.
The children ran, shrieking and wailing. Their bags lay behind them in the lane -- dropped from nerveless fingers. The monsters howled at their departing backs for some moments, until they were well out of earshot. Then they laughed and pulled the masks from their faces.
"Stupid kids," Jur said.
|VI. "An apple?" The thief snorted, tossed the fruit over his shoulder, and carried on rummaging through the sack. "What bastard gives apples instead of candy?"
"Some folk don't have the proper..." Jur paused to extract his jaws from a piece of toffee. "...festive spirit!"
The others murmured their agreement as they rifled through their loot. Jur went amongst them, snatching the choicest pieces and cuffing anyone who protested. It was his prize for coming up with the scheme -- a way to reap rewards they'd long since outgrown. And he was just nibbling on an especially tasty caramel chimera when a cold, hollow voice sounded through the gloom.
"Yield your sweetmeats, or the hour of your doom is at hand!"
|VII. Jur blinked at the terrible apparition, at the ghastly skull with hellish, glowing eyes. Then he laughed.
"Hah! You're not fooling anyone, witch girl."
The others sniggered.
"Think we didn't know about your little trick?" he continued. "We saw you through the window -- standing in front of that mirror, grinning like a cat. Leave the pranks to the ones with brains, witch girl."
"You will surrender your candy."
"Look, piss off!" He jabbed his finger against a skeletal sternum. "Or we'll leave you covered in eggs like last year! Take your little illusion and-"
The wraith's scythe flashed in the moonlight. Half of Jur fell to the left, with the mocking expression wiped off his face. The other half fell to the right. Both sprayed blood.
|VIII. The other louts screamed, but not for very long. The vicious scythe cleaved amongst them. Arms, legs, heads, and torsos tumbled into the dirt alongside blood-splattered sacks. Only one escaped -- fleeing down the road before the blade could sunder him, the contents of his bladder leaking down his leg. The wraith ignored him.
"Was that necessary?" a voice asked.
Two more wraiths flitted from the shadows.
"They wouldn't surrender their candy," the first said. "I had to make an example of them."
"Now the sweets are all bloody," another replied.
"Good. I like them better that way."
The other wraiths grumbled, but set about collecting up the sacks. Candy was candy, bloody or not.
|IX. "Boo!" Anya said.
She leapt into the lane, wiggling her fingers in an appropriately spooky manner, gnashing her skeletal jaws. But there were no screams. Jur and his friends were there, as she'd expected. However, they were strewn about in puddles of gore.
Anya gulped, but she couldn't hold back the vomit that surged up her throat. It gushed from her fleshless mouth in a foul torrent, cascading over the bloody ground. She dry heaved long after she was drained. And when at last she began to wipe her face with a boney hand, the abominable sight nearly made her retch again. Anya closed her lidless eyes and turned away. She had to get help, had to tell-
"There she is! She killed Jur! She killed them all!"
A cluster of people swarmed at the far end of the lane. Some grasped pitchforks, others flaming torches that spilled yellow light over wrathful faces. The village cleric was at the forefront, clasping a large holy icon with both hands. Lunke, one of Jur's friends, stood beside him. The youth's arm was outstretched. His trembling index finger pointed at Anya.