CMP

"They say the Fae are masters of bewitchment and illusions, aye? I'd say an illusion so real it believes itself fits the bill...hell." Atramor shook his head and slapped the gnome on the back. "Well, whatever's goin' on here, there's still a legion of Heroes workin' to undo it. Dark as it gets, we'll always have allies." That said, the rogue turned to Mynatt, his entire stock of gold in hand. "If ya' have any Phoenix Essences or Smellin' Salts, mate, I'll take every damn one of 'em. Failin' that...well, it was good seein' you again, and we 'ppreciate the help. Feels like an eternity since that quest. Sometimes these life-or-death scenarios can take a bit of a toll. Makes ya' long for the days of savin' alchemists from some crazed cultists." Atramor cracked a bit of a grin. Once the party's business was concluded, he led the way back out to Torc, so that the party could fly to the Embassy to rescue the Lion Knight Skirmishers. He had vague recollections of fighting alongside the renowned pikemen in Dastan. If only they had more time. They really could use Tarn and an army of dragons about now.

Atramor turned to stare at Matthias for a good long moment, then looked away, glaring at the ground. "Damn that is dark, mate. Let's....call that a worse-case scenario. I almost think I'd prefer one of the Founders judgin' us asshoIes over the idea that somethin' ground 'em up into dust to make copies of the others."

"Ah, right...aye, it'e be nice to bring our own support into this, too." Atramor nodded. "We'll recruit the skirmishers at the Embassy first, then."

Atramor scratches his chin. "Sounds damn tough, though. Not sure where we'd even begin, if we tried. I'm of the mind that we should split up and track down the other parties - I think both Althior and Dyric are capable of doin' so." "I say we help the other parties round up all the support they can, we have everyone meet back up at Lady Luck's when we're ready, then we hit the docks, get a ship, and sail straight into Fort Freedom; it sounds like that's where the center of activity is at." "That sound agreeable to ya'll?"

"From what, like a-...." Atramor opened his mouth to continue when a sudden chill gripped his mind, a single thought spreading rapidly like a disease. He turned slowly to face the party. "........there's exactly one Founder we know for damn sure is actually alive, mates." "And The Fey One is a fairy, ain't they?"

Atramor tosses the vial of silver powder to the alchemist. "Sorry to hear 'bout the business, mate. If you've got any stock left, I've got a hell of a lot of coin to unload."

Atramor dismounted Torc, sliding down the dragon's thick, scaly leg and turning to face the bearded, aged alchemist. After a moment, a spark of recognition crosses the rogue's face, and he can't help but grin a bit as he sweeps his hat off. "Doctor Mynatt - damn it's been a long time. Atramor Gibbin; dunno if you recall, but you recruited me and a few of my old friends for a job of yours that musta been...seven years ago now. We found your assistant, Julian? Hell, that was one of my very first quests.....Well, in any case, we're part of what's left of Heroica. Not sure what you've heard about us, but none of it's true, I can tell ya' that much. We need the Guild's assistance in-...uh..." He lifted his foot up slightly on hearing a crack; Atramor frowns at the picket sign he's stepped on. "...identifyin' a mysterious substance we've come across. It's pretty damn vital to our investigation, actually. Say, er, what exactly's been goin' on 'round here?"

Atramor stared at Dyric for a few long seconds in silence, unblinking as the color faded from his face slightly. "...Oh." Then, at long last, he closed his eyes for a brief moment, regaining his composure. He nodded at his fellow rogue, with an appreciative smile. "Thanks, mate. That's...hadn't thought 'bout that in a long time." Atramor looks down at the vial of Crimson Haze Hoke handed him. Slowly, he applies it to his Living Mythril Claws, which soak in the compound as though the weapon were overcome by a thirst. "Truth be told, I did stop blamin' myself. For all of it. We all have seen people die for a cause they believed in, from the Golden Dragon down to every new recruit still with us now. To shoulder those deaths as your own burden...turns out it's a kind of selfishness in its own right. Deaths like the ones that heroes die, like Triad? They belong to a cause." He marveled at the venomous nature of the claws now, before retracting them into their gauntlets. "Those Acerpusculum got it right. We ain't got any time left to shed tears. Here on out, anyone that dies for this cause? We don't let that weight slow us down. We make it a weapon, and we make it worth it." Renewed, he turned to the Ziegfrieds. "We 'ppreciate your support, Lady Ziegfried. Rest assured, we'll restore Heroica and get Eubric back in order as soon as possible." His eyes slid to Bellanotte. "And that goes for everyone. Nobody is gettin' left behind here. Once we figure out what these imposters are, we'll be in much better shape to hit Fort Freedom. We'll get your family back. We're gettin' all of 'em back." Atramor cracked open and sipped one of his Meads. "For now, our next stop is the Guild of Invision. If anyone wants to take a moment and get ready, now's the time."

Atramor chuckled at Dyric's teasing of Matthias and raised an eyebrow. "Well then, don't keep us in suspense, mate."

"I think the Bonapartes are stuck-up glory-seekers. Doesn't mean they don't protect the Crystalline Sea from pirates. I helped the Ji Pei flip their home country on its head, 'cause they hated seein' their own kind lordin' above the others. There's always gonna be people in power. That's somethin' I've learned firsthand. All ya' can ever really do is get the right people in charge and keep 'em there. Ain't perfect. But it's what we can do." "I have no idea what their motivation is, but they're in a position to accomplish anythin' they want, and what I know for damn sure is that we can't let 'em stay there." Atramor reflected on the Dragon's advice quietly, before actually sweeping off his hat and bowing slightly. "We all 'ppreciate you speakin' with us, Lady Dragon. You're as ruthlessly honest as they say. And damn if we don't need a hell of a lot more of that 'round Eubric." And with that, he returned to the party and listened to their discussions. "I wouldn't mind gettin' my claws in some of that." "Aye. Fort Freedom is a suicide mission for now...as much as I'd be up for onna those, not everyone's gonna be so inclined." "Agreed. And as much as more soldiers would be useful, it's gonna take more'n bodies to cut off the head of the snake. You saw that bastard; he'd wipe out a legion of soldiers in an instant. And we're in the business of savin' people." He shook the vial of dust. "We don't need an army; we need information, and a weapon. For that, I think we need to go to the Guild of Invision, and with that in mind, aye, we should definitely drop off Chesterine." "Arthur, I can't help but feel like the old grudges are dead. The Guild's in disarray, like every damn House. Eubric's fallin' apart at the seams and I doubt the Guild's gonna give a damn if we have a Ziegfried with us. Plus, let's be honest here, you don't exactly got a family resemblance." Atramor nodded at Chesterine's hat with a bit of a grin. "If you don't wanna fight by our side, that's fine, but...hell, mate, do ya' really think this is just gonna blow over if ya'll sit at home? It's your call, mate, but-" the rogue crossed his arms and glanced briefly at Dyric. "-given what we're settin' out to do, keep in mind, there's a damn good chance we're not all makin' it out in one piece." Atramor turned to head for the door to return to the Ziegfried Manor, before turning back once more to look between the Golden Dragon and Arthur. ".....'Sides. Lady Dragon's got a point. Heroica's a family too, mate. Ya' can leave it. Ya' can even forget about it. But it ain't leavin' you. If you're gonna stand with us, it's now or never. And never's gettin' closer every minute, mate."

"We're...not perfect," repeats Atramor slowly, after a moment of reflection. "But....we've been doin' the best we can do." Atramor fell quite for a good long while as he thought back to the day he'd first stepped into the Hall for himself. He hadn't that about that day in a good long while. And it took a second to recall the reason he had joined in the first place. His eyes flickered briefly to the weighty pouch of gold that sat in his coat. More than he ever expected to earn; a small fortune, and there was always more. But he already knew the feeling that would strike him as he looked on the great wealth he'd accumulated; and that was feeling was "not all that damn much". "...Yeah. You got us there." "I...think they think they're savin' Eubric by abolishin' Heroica and the Houses. If I had to take 'em real real serious-like, then I would say that they're tryin' to send a message about the kinds of things we've had to do. Like they think we've gotten corrupted, or that we're interferin' in business that ain't our own. Makin' decisions we have no right to make. I've heard that kind of thing before, I bet we all have, but...it's like....they are certain that we're the bad guys here, because we won't roll over and let them end Heroica." Atramor wracked his brain. "They want a Eubric free of the Houses and free of Heroica...but they don't want the Wolfgang 'round when it's done, either. They want to dismantle all of Eubric's establishments, the only people with the capacity to protect the city." "As far as a source...I guess we have an idea of where to start." Atramor toyed with the vial of dust in hand. "We need to find an alchemist, so I guess we're going to have to visit the Guild of Invision, mates. Unless any of ya'll have another suggestion." "Aye, that would be useful. I'd love to see the look on your mimic's face with somethin' like that in hand..." Atramor's eyes lit up a bit. "Did you have Veteran's Badges back in the day? That would definitely do the trick."

"Great question..." Realizing he's still carrying the Doomsayer's loot, Atramor hands Hoke the Prayer Beads. He then turns to the conjured spirit of the Golden Dragon, and hides a twinge of anxiety. This could go very poorly very easily. "Er....greetin's. We, uh, hate to disturb your rest, but we're, well, the latest generation of heroes. From, ya'know, Heroica? Been two hundred fifty seven years or so since you founded it, I think...which makes this a lot more unbelievable...a group of people claimin' to the be the Founders showed up in Eubric a few weeks ago. They are absolutely goddamn convinced they're the real deal, and they've been causin' all sorts of trouble. Somehow they managed to get Heroica Hall shut down. Now, we ain't perfect, Lady Dragon, but..." Atramor gritted his teeth a bit. "Believe me when I say it is nothin' more than...deepest of buIIshit to say the things that they're sayin', they think we've made things worse when we've saved all of Olegaia twenty times over! We've banished archdemons, we've put down pirates, and cults, and corrupt governments, we've seen good heroes die doin' the things that we do. I've been here for seven years, and I've put up with a lot of people bashin' what we do, but these...these damned charlatans have gotten Heroica shut down. Every last hero left, we're all tryin' to get to the bottom of this, because without Heroica - I mean, hell, you founded it, you know what would happen if we weren't around." "Uh, anyhow....all this to say....we needed to visit you to know that these Founders are false, and given what the 'Doomsayer' just turned into," the rogue raised the vial of silver dust. "I'd say we know for damn sure. One of 'em is even runnin' 'round with your visage. We just; we need to know that you're the real Golden Dragon, we need to know if you have any idea what this dust is, and we need to know if....if there's anyone that's tried anything like this before, because two and a half centuries later, you Founders, or at least people that look like ya', still have enough pull to turn Eubric on its head." "We barely were able to take down this lunatic, and there's two other groups of heroes out there lookin' for any leads they can. The Houses are in disarray, everythin' is fallin' apart, and every hero is now a criminal in the eyes of the city. You founded us, and, well, now we need your help to save us. Please. Anythin' that could help us." Atramor swallowed hard as he kept his eyes trained on the spirit of the Golden Dragon. He'd never call himself sentimental, but there was something about coming face-to-face with one of Heroica's founders that struck him.

"Phew. Thanks, mate....and thanks for the speed, too. That coulda gotten ugly." Atramor nods in thanks to the gnome, wiping the brain drill clean on his already-bloodstained coat and tucking it back into a pocket. "Damn good work, everyone. Never thought.....well, hell, that we'd ever have to face off against onna the Founders, no matter how fake..." "Chesterine, if ya' can contact the Golden Dragon's spirit, give it a shot. We need insight on these copies. And maybe she'll know something about this." Atramor scoops the silvery dust into a small vial.

As Atramor chugs down the spiced alcohol Hoke administers, he feels a deep warmth flood his body, and with it an overwhelming confidence that he could take on more punishment than he believed possible. Something's he going to need, as he finally opens his palm to reveal a sliver of black stone, very slightly transparent, with wips of shadow swimming under the surface of the crystal. The rogue grimaces a bit as he unsheathes the Pheles Kris slightly. "I do. This is gettin' ridiculous, so...gonna have to do somethin' pretty unpleasant here. Sometimes ya' gotta fight asshoIe with asshoIe." He cuts the bottom of his hand very slightly on the kris, and in an instant blood more or less leaps out of the wound and somehow swirls into the Archdemon's Summonstone as Atramor spends 120 health to give the archdemon 120 mana. The stone grows warm as it suffuses with blood, and one of the wips inside it seems to escape the interior of it somehow, and it appears as though the odd, dark crystal that Atramor holds aloft is casting a shadow a hundred times its size on the floor of the tomb. The shadow grows dark, until it appears not as a trick of the light, but as an abyss, endless and utterly black, save from a reddish glow that emanates; and with every passing moment, becomes stronger, as though something foul, powerful, and utterly evil were about to rise from its depths. The archdemon will use Azazot's Rule on the Doomsayer. Battle Order Hoke Atramor Archdemon Althior Matthias Dyric Arthur Chesterine Bellanotte

I think Alea Lacta Est should heal everyone. Atramor throws himself to the ground as quickly as he possibly can as Althior conjures a massive storm of darkness, swirling around the Doomsayer like the eye of a hurricane. The rogue rolls over, and swears he can see the Doomsayer grow even more powerful - lethal, even, as he dissipates Althior's immense spells with a mere flick of his staff. Atramor stands, backing up slowly, reaching deep, deep into the depths of his coat - to a thing he hoped he'd never need to use - until he bumps into the armored form of Hoke. "I can get him, mates. I can get him...and we won't need to lay a hand on the bastard. But, uh..." The rogue clears his throat. "I really need a Mulled Wine."

In addition to what Flipz said, everyone but Arthur should've been Encouraged for that round. "Alright, mates. Keep it up; he can't hold out forever!" Atramor repeats his attacks. Battle Order Dyric Bellanotte Matthias Atramor Atramor Hoke Althior Althior Chesterine Arthur

A thin smile cracks Atramor's face as he shoves the Doomsayer's things into his coat. "Everyone to the front. He's ours now, mates." He will again stab the Doomsayer with the Brain Drill from the front row as many times as he can. Battle Order Bellanotte Matthias Atramor Hoke Althior Dyric Arthur

Althior is permanently hastened and so should've attacked twice. Also since I'm permanently lucky I also should've gotten three rolls since minstrel's "lucky" kinda stacks. Also, were his artifacts affecting his defense, or are they separate?

Atramor stumbles to the side, entirely taken aback by the fraud's intense flurry of attacks, knocking out Chesterine. Visibly, the gears in his head spin as he takes note of their target's excessive consumption of mana. A slow smile creeps onto his face. "Got an idea, mates. Matthias, get Bellanotte outta that rock if ya' can; we're gonna need all the luck we've got for this - maybe ya' can help us out there, your....affair with Lady Luck goes back years if I remember right...Think you've got the right idea with that bomb Arthur, but maybe somethin' a bit stronger is in order; and if I were you, I'd aim for the eyes. This is the best chance we've got: we got chased out of the Hall, we got chased of the Hovels, I ain't runnin' one more damned step. Althior, get the darkest gem you've got, we gotta blind this little rat before he smashes us to pieces. And if ya' could speed me up Hoke, that'd be great. I've got a shiny new weapon just for him." The rogue does the best he can to slip behind the Doomsayer in the commotion as he digs around in his cloak, swinging out the acutely dangerous-looking Brain Drill, whirring viciously as he aims at the deceiver's skull from the front row as many times as he can. "Don't worry, I promise this is gonna hurt like hel." Battle Order Hoke Matthias Bellanotte Dyric Atramor Althior Arthur

I think it's safe to assume everyone just repeats their attacks unless otherwise noted.

Atramor uses an Ether Core on Bellanotte from the back row. "Got a feelin' puttin' this guy to sleep ain't gonna do much Hoke. Just him with all ya' got!" Battle Order Atramor Bellanotte Arthur Hoke Matthias Chesterine Torc Dyric Matthias Althior

"Almost like it's been here since, hell, I dunno, she died." With Hoke advancing from the side, Atramor also took a step forward, keeping the dwarf off-kilter. "You're makin' a disgrace out of the original Founders. I dunno why, but it's an insult to them, and it's an insult to us. Heroica ain't perfect, but we've saved a lotta lives, and if ya' think your petty little tricks are gonna take us all down, you better think again. We aren't what we were. But we're enough."

"Hell no. Whole reason we came down here is to check if the Golden Dragon's body was still here. It is, so whoever's wanderin' 'round in her skin is full of garbage. And he's with her."

Atramor unsheathed both of his mythril claws, and stepped forward with a glare. "Shoulda' known we'd find one of your lyin' paws on the corpse of a real Founder. Who the hel do you think you are, 'cuz you sure ain't who you say, you miserable little hairball." He waved a hand towards the party. "Real heroes are over here, so why don't you look us in the eyes and tell us what all this is about and where you took the Shadeaux?"

"If only we had some wine." Atramor smirks as he stands, shaking hands with Mabel. "We 'ppreciate all your help, ma'am. You'd better bet Heroica won't be forgettin' it when this is all over; the sooner the Houses can stand together and we take down these imposters, the sooner we can fix this damn mess." He gave Arthur a heartly slap on the shoulder, Noel a conflicted nod, and headed back out to Torc so the party could return to the Dragon House.