Alternative Reality Vol 1

by A Uscila

  Demons’ Bind

  Description: Once a crazed blacksmith forged this dagger from unknown materials. Some said he was possessed, some said people used to disappear around his home. None could prove any of it. When someone ballsy enough to gather an angry mob finally appeared - the blacksmith was already gone. All that was left was this dagger. It is said to bind its victim’s soul to the bearers will.

  Damage: 25-33

  Requirements: Level 75, 20 Strength, 60 Intelligence.

  Restriction: Warlock

  *+20 to wisdom and +20 to Intelligence.

  *+20 Fame

  *-75 Reputation upon equipping.

  *Chance of angry mob appearing with the intent to burn you at the stake.

  *Does an additional 25 Black magic damage.

  *Reanimates the victim, binding his/her soul to the bearers will.

  *Soulbound - will not drop upon death.

  Robe of Bolerus

  Description: Once worn by Belorus – a follower of the Old Way. Served the last Warlock as an apprentice. Used in choosing the next Warlock candidate.

  Durability: 31/35

  Defense: 15

  Requirements: Level 75. 50 Fortitude, 50 Wisdom, 80 Intelligence.

  Restrictions: Warlock.

  *+600 health and +30 Intelligence.

  *+15 Fame.

  *While wearing – marked as a heretic by major religions.

  *-100 Reputation upon equipping.

  *Soulbound - will not drop upon death.

  *Unknown.

  He guessed it. Bonuses on the items he “borrowed” changed completely - and they were simply ridiculous. These were low level items. Rare? Sure. Still low level though. Considering that - the intellect bonus as an example - was sky-high. Not to mention the other bonuses and additional effects.

  Of course - the loss of reputation was quite a downside - and would be for most players. Not for Wail though - reputation in general seemed quite useless to him. This was Wail - a person who went beyond the line of no return. To any other player losing so much reputation at this level would have been a devastating blow. No sane person could take the constant weird eye given by every non-player character - npc for short, around. Not only that, but bartering or simply conversing with them would prove almost impossible. Which would mean - no medical supplies, no gear and no money. Basically, one would be forced to join the underworld, be it bandits or some other outside of the law organizations.

  That’s not all of course. You would also be marked as a heretic and shunned or even hunted by all major religions. Which is probably the worst inconvenience. Almost all of the healing classes belonged to some major religion - since the main healing classes were priests and clerics, with a few exceptions. Druids were one - but the majorly negative reputation will hinder interaction with them as well. They’ll most likely see you as some arsonist and a threat to nature - hunting you down all the same. Maybe feeding you to some wild animals for good measure. Imagination is the limit.

  Last resort - combat medics. Military trained medics who are experts at first aid. Sure, they don’t use magic and their healing is the worst of all. But! They are usually surprisingly good fighters - excelling at almost anything. Except magic. They usually belong to military orders though, which was directly related with the government of course. End result? Hanged as a criminal.

  In conclusion - you’d be doomed.

  That just covers the npc part of the whole experience, of course. Players were a slightly different story - since they were not obligatory to follow the set rules of this world. But preferred to do so either way. Going against the law proved too much of a hassle and a risk to lose your own reputation, hinder overall progress. Following the rules though - gave great benefits and unexpected, or expected by now, quests. So even if one hopes to find a friend who’ll support you - disappointment is just around the corner. Quite a few stories drifted in the internet - speaking of broken companionships due to clashing interests.

  A truly harsh life. Just what the doctor ordered - Wail could only smile. All of the above? Wail was used to it in real life. It’s not like he wasn’t kicked out of a church before - and he did promise to get them back for it.

  Years of suffering helped him twist his inner world upside down - making life an easier place to get by in. Like a wild animal he adapted to the environment - expecting only the worse, and always being ready for it. Most of the time.

  Someone gave him the weird eye? An impatient waitress gave him the angry look? Someone took the last slice of pie he so wanted - right from under his nose? Wail welcomed it all. It all served only to prove his existence in this sad play of a life. His solo show of a victim. That’s right - he was the victim, a reflection in the mirror. A reaction. A ripple on the surface. He was simply giving the world back, what he received - and there was plenty of giving back left. What a cry-baby.

  Conditions have been met in Alternative Reality as well. Once he puts on the items - it would be Wail against the world. No allies, no friends. Odds stacked heavily against him. What could prove more fun? He could vent every single last drop of any pent-up frustration without hesitation - with a valid excuse as well. Conscience clear of any guilt. He stuffed the robe inside his satchel - time to grind down those remaining levels.

  Wail was level 71 at the moment. Which meant he needed to level up 4 times before he could put on those items. Double experience bonus. No problem.

  Chapter 14

  Blazing skeletal figures flailed about as Wail threw around his signature spell - lips twisted into a sinister sneer. He was quite happy. Survived the lethal fall, got a new interesting class, new spells and soon he’d be wearing new attire. That didn’t reek of death. A hard smell to get out when you’re constantly dealing in it.

  Using the fresh exit that opened up after that fancy lightshow - Wail was out for new prey. More than two days left before the weekly loot and experience bonus expires and he was not planning on leaving early. Outside of the chamber, he encountered new enemies - possessed bodies of the deceased. Skeletal forms with ragged clothing - wielding rusted or even broken weapons. Surely, they seemed quite formidable in their own special way. But those dry bones and clothes just burned so well! Wail couldn't help but exploit such a jeering soft spot. End result? Custom lighting in the lowest part of the dungeon. With Life Tap Wail had an almost unlimited supply of fireballs. Thus he just went about doing what he always did inside Alternative Reality - bringing a little spark to the game. Or a lot of sparks. In addition to running around and avoiding the enemy until they turned to ash. Seems like this was his day - and it was just beginning.

  It didn’t take long for Wail to reach level 75. Wasn’t very hard either. Though the loot down here was terrible. Nothing useful - the loot bonus didn’t even help. All Wail got was a pair of worn shoes. Or more like slippers. Not much use for winter.

  Angis Footwear

  Description: Worn by Angis the Enlightened - an anxiety stricken magician who dreamed of glory and conquest below earth. Went down into a random cave - searching for adventure. Never returned.

  Durability: 17/31

  Defense: 4

  Restrictions: Level 10.

  Restrictions: Any magician class.

  *+10 Wisdom, +15 Intellect.

  *+200 Mana.

  *May cause the owner to slip by accident.

  New shoes, a dagger and a robe. Wail felt quite excited, even took a whiff of his robe - which resulted in another note in his “what not to do ever again” list. Smelled better than the previous one though.

  Character name: Wail

  Level: 75

  Class: Warlock

  Reputation: -306

  Title: Heretic

  Souls: 0

  Experience: 15.3%

  Health: 3280

  Mana: 3960

  Stamina: 1480

  Strength: 20

  Intellect: 265

  Agility: 10

  Fortitude: 50

  Wisd
om: 185

  Precision: 10

  Attack: 35-53

  Defense: 64

  Charisma: 8

  Leadership: 31

  Luck: 11

  Fame: 300

  Health Regen: 6 Health/sec.

  Mana Regen: 15 Mana/sec.

  Magic Resistance

  Fire: 25%

  Water: 5%

  Nature: 0%

  Black: 20%

  Light: -10%

  Nether: 10%

  *Unspent stat points: 44.

  *-1 Charisma due to appearance.

  *-3 to Charisma due to below 0 Reputation.

  *+6 Leadership due to Fame.

  *+250 Health and + 150 Defense due to Fortitude.

  *+1250 Mana and + 6 mana regeneration due to Intellect.

  *+20% Fire, +10% Nether magic resistance due to Warlock.

  *+20% Black and -10% Light magic resistance due to Warlock

  Title bonus

  *Hated by all major religions.

  *Accepted by all evil religions.

  *Contact with a member of any major religion may cause them to drop into a religious fervor - pursuing you with psalms and religious signs.

  *Double negative effect upon killing or dying by the hand of a member of any major religion. May force subjugation parties to be unleashed upon the player. Will hunt until success or destruction.

  *Triple experience for killing a member of any major religion.

  *+5 mana regeneration.

  *+10% mana.

  *+10% spell damage.

  Wail spent the next 10 minutes admiring his own status screen. Somebody had to - he did work hard enough to earn a pat on the shoulder. And since he had no friends to do it for him - Wail had to do it himself. Patting his own shoulder felt somehow backwards though. He’d get back on it later. Now? He had another unexpected development underway.

  While strolling around with a loaf of bread in his mouth Wail met an old acquaintance - Bob. Oh what a pleasant surprise - he could hardly contain himself. Bob was leaning against the wall - hemorrhaging profoundly. Didn’t seem like it would end well for the poor fella.

  Once Bob noticed a familiar face, he weakly reached out towards Wail. One didn't need to be a genius to realize his request - but this was Wail. He quickly scurried towards him and rummaged thought Bob's pockets. Scavenging every single thing - like poor Bobs’ fate was already written in stone. Wail - always practical, no matter the situation.

  "It's not like you'll need any of that where you're going" - Wail shrugged at Bob's displeased, yet pleading stare. No conscience at all - and it's not like the bandit could do anything about it. He lost too much blood and was nearing his last seconds of existence - staring at Wail with those puppy dog eyes of his. A hard thing to bear, surely. Thus, who could blame Wail - for what he did next?

  Wail looked at his newly acquired dagger - its’ edge shining in an alluring purple. Shrugged. Guess this was the perfect opportunity to test out its’ effect on living beings. A stab, a gasping last breath and the deed was done. Soon though, purple streams of light started to gather from the corpse - right into Wails' blade. Like the bandit’s very souls entered a new vessel. A lovely lightshow. For a moment Wail was afraid his dagger would turn into some purple light-stick people used in those crazy concerts he saw on television. Not something he’d like to run around in hand with - would totally ruin his style. Luckily - it was soon over and the dagger returned to its’ usual sheen, but the victim didn’t seem to respond. So much for that eye-numbing charade.

  Yet, soon enough - Bob opened his eyes and stood up with a complete absence of surprise on his face. It’s like he was out on a short stroll to the mall - finding everything the way he left it, once back. Wounds completely healed - as new as he’ll ever be.

  "For some reason I have this urge to obey your every command. Which makes me feel quite uncomfortable and safe at the same time" - Bob then said, after a short ritual of touching himself. All over. Wail looked away during it.

  Wail was pleased with his words though. Not so much with the ritual, but all was in the past now - he had the perfect method to test his loyalty as well.

  "Where do you stash your loot?" - He asked suddenly, no introductions, no explanations - mercilessly, cold-bloodedly. Greedily. Basically - like his usual self. Nothing out of the ordinary. Probably another reason why he didn’t have any friends. Always doing things in his own pace.

  „Why would I tell you that? “ - Bob then replied, giving his new master the „weird eye“- „What, just because I offered you my undying allegiance, does that mean I have to tell you every single one of my secrets? Do you want to know if I wipe my ass after I finish next? - He went on.

  Wail was dumbfounded - smacking his own forehead in frustration. He just couldn‘t believe this. What was the point in the whole „obey the master’s will” bull-crap then? This whole master-servant system was obviously flawed. Wail was about to fold, but decided to give it one more go.

  A flick of the finger, a little spark and Wail was about ready to roast some minion. “What use are you to me, if you won’t even obey? What was all that “undying allegiance” crap, anyway?” - A slight glare. Seems like Wail was seriously disappointed. A man with broken dreams.

  An effective method of communication though - it seemed to work on Bob just fine. All the hostility gone, like it was never there to begin with. He backed off a step or two, waved his hands defensively and stared at Wail with innocent eyes - full of surprise.

  “Whoah! Calm down man. It’s not like I said anything about defiance or anything” - Wail raised an eyebrow to that, which demanded - and eventually got an explanation - “Look…” - Bob said after rubbing his forehead, a serious and almost sincere expression. Did not fit the whole “bandit” role at all. Quite out of character - “Just because I don’t want to share all of my deepest secrets with you, does not mean I oppose your obvious rule. You have my soul for gods’ sake! Not much I can do about it” - He said while shrugging - “Thus I’ll roll with you and fight for you. I understand that your wellbeing kind of dictates my own. So…partners?” - A touching story. Bob extended a hand towards Wail, looking at him hopefully. He thought the act worked. Didn’t fool Wail at all. Nothing gets through his keen senses. His animal like instincts.

  Or that’s just what he wants you to think. Indeed - it got through to Wail. A barely containable smile appeared on his lips. This was probably the first time ever he experienced something of the sort. Thus Wail did not know how to react properly. A quick wrist movement and Bob was jumping around - trying to put out the fire on his left foot.

  “Fine” - Wail replied eventually. By now, he managed to hide the smile. Back to his usual self. Violence always helps. He rummaged through his satchel and took out an old rusted sword.

  “Here’s your sword back” - Wail then said, downcast - giving away a long-sword. For free. Ridiculous. Bob looked at it suspiciously though - completely ignorant of the sacrifice.

  "Wait…This isn’t my sword. I don’t know where you got this piece of junk-metal, but mine was way better" - Replied Bob, inspecting the gifted sword with visible disgust. Wail had a hard time controlling his temper. The nerve of this guy! All that sweet-talk was obviously an act. A sudden urge to light Bob on fire again, struck Wail.

  “Take it or leave it. Now show me your status screen - before I decide to brighten you up” - Wail then bluffed with an over-done frown. He wasn’t going to burn him. Not yet. There was no real point to it. If what the bandit said was true - he might serve as quite an ally. Thus, like it or not - the two were stuck together. For a time.

  Luckily - Bob only mumbled something under his nose and did as he was bid.

  Character name: Bob (NPC)

  Level: 67

  Class: Dark Minion

  Reputation: -156

  Experience: 15.3%

  Souls: 0

  Health: 4020

  Mana: 1005

  Stamina: 2010

 
Strength: 150

  Intellect: 10

  Agility: 65

  Fortitude: 150

  Wisdom: 10

  Precision: 10

  Attack: 94-195

  Defense: 120

  Charisma: 16

  Leadership: 18

  Luck: 10

  Fame: 56

  Health Regen: 15 Health/sec.

  Mana Regen: 2 Mana/sec.

  Magic Resistance

  Fire: 10%

  Water: 0%

  Nature: -10%

  Black: 20%

  Light: -15%

  Nether: 15%

  *+10% Black, +10% Fire, +5% Nether magic resistance due to Wail.

  *+10% Black, Nether magic resistances due to Dark minion.

  *-15% Light, -10% Nature magic resistance due to Dark minion.

  *-1 Charisma due to reputation.

  *+1 Leadership due to fame.

  Satisfactory stats. A real meat-shield. Bob would indeed prove useful.

  “Now that I think about it, where is the rest of your crew?”- He then asked, giving his surroundings a quick look like he expected some sudden ambush or signs of it.

  Bob was quite saddened by the question – shoulders slumped ever so slightly. Wail had his doubts though.

  “Probably dead by now... Once that strange fiery thing broke in, we all bailed towards different directions” – He started explaining in a gloomy tone – “I encountered quite a few monsters till I got here - which might have turned out in a similar manner for them as well”