"Welcome to the Royal Road. Would you like to access the Vanilla version or a modification?"[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "A mod." It was our protagonist, who has finally registered and entered the game.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Very well. Currently, there is only one available modification, The Land of Decay. Would you like to choose it?"[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "I do."[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Roger that. The World of Decay is restricted for people other than 18 and over... you have been confirmed to be eligible. The game contains gore and mature content - would you like to apply censorship?"[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "I do not." He said, thinking 'At least for now.'[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Understood. It has been confirmed you have not yet created an account. Do you wish to create your avatar anew or import from the Vanilla?"[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Import it."[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Certainly... your avatar has been found. Parsing available starting points... finished. Please enjoy the game."[/color]
[color=#ffffff]***[/color]
[color=#ffffff] Ten seconds later Will - such was his name in-game - appeared in the plaza. He found strange the fact that AI did not ask him to choose the starting point and he himself had no time to protest. Only later would he found out that the procedure was randomized hence no choice was available to players.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] Anyway, he spawned along with a group of other newbies - their identity was obvious as they started to feel their bodies and gaze at everything around. Although new to the game, he was altogether quite experienced in VR games, thus he went to survey to city without any crap. Well, it wasn't actually big enough for it to be called a city - calling it a town would be more appropriate as it had a few thousand residents at most.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] 'OK, gotta secure funds, first.'[/color]
[color=#ffffff] It was no easy task. Only after two hours in-game (or half an hour in real life, since it was good old 4x the normal time; btw, I'm gonna use RL for real-life from now on) did he manage to find one. It was a large shop with a magic, artifact-powered storehouse that could be likened to a big, building-size refrigerator. It was run by two petite, female twins, obviously NPCs, who were unable to handle the cold. Hence the need for an employee. As someone resistant to cold, Will had no problems with fetching the supplies or cleaning the place.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] Having secured a safe source of income, he was able to pursuit his next goal, that is seeking the best possible class/weapon by browsing the mod's arsenal. It was certainly a difficult task - although there were dozens of classes, only the basic were easily accessible, while the hidden and unique ones were, as the names suggest, were not. Looking at the numbers, it was nigh impossible to get one. That being said, having one was the objective significant majority of players had. All but few would have denied the opportunity had they happened upon it.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] Will started by going to combat guilds. He knew he would not agree for just any class, while the non-combat classes were something he haven't considered even for a moment. As such, he decided to enter the closest one first - the Swordmaster's Guild.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] The interior was rather simple. There is no need for detailed explanations, as just about anyone should be able to imagine it without a problem. It was a classical rpg style. What was important was a counter by the wall opposite from the entrance, where an old man stood. Before him, a great deal of players queued up. Will joined them and after an hour's wait, he finally reached the old man, who sent him bored, disrespectful gaze. It was not the first time for Will, so he received it without batting an eyelid.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Good day to you, sir. I would like to ask if you happen to have some information regarding unique or secret classes..."[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "None", he was cut off. Will blinked in surprise and decided to commence the assault anew. While he was thinking about a different strategy, he saw the grumpy old man touch his forefinger with the same hand's thumb in a universal gesture.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] 'I see', he thought, 'So he knows something', and then taking out a silver coin, "I would be happy to present my benefactor with this small token of gratitude upon receiving such information from him..."[/color]
[color=#ffffff] Once again before he could finish, the old man swiftly took the money, grinned evilly, and punched a button under the counter. Five seconds later, a group of black-clad men in sunglasses appeared and lifter Will to the ceiling, after which they unceremoniously threw him out through the door onto the street. When he got back up and looked back, none of them remained in sight.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] 'Fucking old fox', he thought while massaging his sore bottom, 'I will fucking get him for this one day...'[/color]
[color=#ffffff] After pulling himself together and venting his anger on an innocent cardboard box nearby, he resumed his search, bidden farewell with bystanders' gazes.[/color]
[color=#ffffff]***[/color]
[color=#ffffff] Among the ones observing his misery and later antics, there was a young man, calling himself Mastema, who was very similar yet very different compared to Will. He was of average height and, aside from that, he was the complete opposite of him. White clothed, with white hair, average face and, surprisingly, also white eyes.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] He felt uneasy witnessing the whole ordeal - he was just about to enter the very same door someone has just been thrown out from. Feeling reluctant, he nevertheless conquered his uncertainty and proceeded forward through the door.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] Thankfully, no one threw him out. After standing in the queue for an hour or so, he finally reached the counter. There, an old man met him with a scornful gaze. Yet Mastema was also used to such looks.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "I'd like to apply to this guild..."[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Such a miserable wimp like you, sonny? Go and beef up first", he was answered in a spiting, mocking manner. It took him a few seconds to control himself.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Listen, old man, isn't it common sense to be polite? Or is it too difficult for ya?" he glared menacingly at his adversary, who in turn cringed slightly.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Ok... ok, young gentleman, you are right, my bad! But I've told only the truth! If you want to be a swordsman, you have to become stronger! Thankfully, my acquaintance, Lucky Wyrm, should help you do it if you tell him I sent you. Go find him in 'Bearbird' tavern."[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "See, that wasn't that hard," Mastema looked at him scornfully and left.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] What he failed to see though was the evil smile sported by the old man, whose eyes were completely devoid of any fear.[/color]
[color=#ffffff]***[/color]
[color=#ffffff] Three weeks in-game passed.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] Will was earning some money in the siblings' shop all this time. This allowed him to get by while searching for a good class. No major results emerged since the visit in the Swordmaster's Guild - until now. Because now, he was sitting in front of an old gentleman in a tavern, who had surprising resistance to alcohol, which both annoyed and relieved Will - annoyed since he was afraid the information would be spoiled by alcohol haze and money he had to spend, and relieved for the former had yet to happen.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "So, youngster", started his informant after gulping down a good dozen rounds, "you are looking for someone that could teach you a secret art? Are you looking for any specific class?"[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Well, anything interesting will do."[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Anything interesting, he says! Well, I might have something significantly interesting, indeed. Will you still pursuit this trail even if I don't tell you what kind of class it is and that it requires unimaginable pains to go through to obtain?"[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Obviously", Will answered.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Listen well, then... but first pay for the next dozen rounds."[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Hey! I don't want the information alloyed by alcohol's influence on your mind!", the player protested.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Don't worry... that's why I told you to pay for all of them now instead of continuing one by one."[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "...Alright, then." Will reluctantly did as told. After gulping down one, his source resumed.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "There is a man named Harry in the slums. He always resides in front of the pub named 'Crimson Scorpion' in a back alley's entrance."[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "You are telling me that a homeless bum is the secret arts master?!"[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Yes, I am. Or rather, he isn't a homeless bum... it's just that he's a queer man. He told me that he found poverty interesting and is currently engaged in researching it there."[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Is that so... thank you for the info, I will go seek him out, then."[/color]
[color=#ffffff]***[/color]
[color=#ffffff] Since he got the information in the evening (in-game), Will decided to call it a day and logged out. He ate, took care of various (toilet) affairs and logged back in after a nap. It was early morning in The Land of Decay and he decided to start looking for Harry who was supposed to be a skill tutor for some mysterious class.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] After an hour or so he managed to locate the tavern in question, following soon with finding Harry.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] Harry was a stinking, dirty man clad in rags. When the player closed to him and called out his name, he just looked at Will unwillingly, clearly considering him a nuisance in his 'research'.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "What d'ya want?", he blurted out. "Can't you see I'm busy?"[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "I was told that you can give me a rare class", Will responded aloud while he tsukkomi'd him in his head, 'Like hell you are!'[/color]
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
[color=#ffffff] (Author's note: tsukkomi... well, google it. Basically, it is something like a retort to an idiot's words/actions and I probably will use it from time to time)[/color]
[color=#ffffff] The NPC looked at him sharply, a blatant change in attitude. He didn't look so forbidding anymore, but he wasn't looking friendly, either. A blatant change in attitude.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Harumph, who do you think you are... you know how difficult it is to earn the right or, as you foreigners keep calling it, 'meet the requirements'?", he started nagging. "First and foremost, you have to suffer an immeasurable amount of grief and despair in your life to..." Harry continued to speak while he reached out to him with a stinking arm only to suddenly fall into silence, shock evident on his stern face. Only after half a minute or so did he manage to return to his senses.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] [/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Now this is a surprise, kid. You meet the requirements. Alright. Take it."[/color]
[align=center][color=#ffffff][table][tr][td100]You can now convert to the Daydreamer Class[/td100][/tr][tr][td100]Do you accept?[/td100][/tr][tr][td2]Yes[/td2][td2]No[/td2][/tr][/table][/color]
[/align]
[color=#ffffff] Will furrowed his eyebrows in thought. It was risky, yet tempting. He has never heard of anything remotely similar to this 'daydreamer' thingy.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Won't you tell me anything about the class?"[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Nope. This class is something you don't learn about, but figure out on your own. Now accept already while I'm being nice and scram."[/color]
[color=#ffffff] 'The hell?', Will thought. 'Well, whatever. I can as well entertain myself with checking it out, it may be a golden opportunity. Also, I can always switch the class later for a new one when I encounter it.' And, out loud he said, "I accept."[/color]
[align=center][color=#ffffff][table][tr][td100]You have converted to the Daydreamer class[/td100][[/tr][tr]Calling upon the will that allowed you to weather many ordeals in your life, you can imagine tools to materialize them. No fixed skills whatsoever are associated with this class. The strength of your creations varies - it depends on your willpower (and the willpower of your enemy whenever your attack damage is concerned).[/color]
[color=#ffffff]Your 'mana' stat is converted into 'willpower' stat[/color]
[color=#ffffff]Willpower and, in small part, stamina are necessary for you to use the power associated with your class. Potentially infinite, it can be hindered by fatigue, state of mind and distractions. Also, you are now unable to learn any skills unless you have created them yourself - you have to rely solely on the power of your class. It is no problem to copy other classes skills with your power, though.[/color]
[color=#ffffff]Ps. If you thought that you would change the class if this one turned out to be crap - bad news, my love. It can never be and should your account/character be reset or deleted, this will b the only available class to you in this mod. We have your retinal pattern and brain waves so don't bother with any little plans to go 'round it. Have fun, sweetie![/td100][/tr][/table][/color]
[/align]
[color=#ffffff]***[/color]
[color=#ffffff] 'What kind of bullshit is this', thought Mastema.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] Currently, there was not even one letter in the world 'clean' that could be associated with his appearance. He was completely covered with dirt, and he was injured in the left leg - thus unable to stand.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] But that was not all. Currently, he was lying in the mud puddle in some back alley, Lucky Wyrm hovering in front of him menacingly.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Just what is it supposed to mean? Didn't you agree to mentor me?" Mastema looked at him in grim askance.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "And what do you think it is, fucker? Obviously, you are my sacrifice for the zombies that made it into the city during the attack of the horde just dozen minutes ago. I drank too much and am unable to run, you see."[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "But aren't you my tutor?!"[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Huh? Ah, you asked me that just a moment ago, as well. Well, did you seriously believed that, stupid shit? Well, aren't you a dumb son of a bitch! I was just playing along for the hell of it. I don't know this old guy from the Swordsman's Guild, anyway. Probably set you up, he did. Now, I have to be on my way! Say my regards to the walking dead!" After saying all he wanted, he started lumping away.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] Few seconds later first zombie appeared in the alley. It was an old peasant in dirty, torn rags and his lower jaw hanging on a single string of muscle, covered in other minor injuries. Obviously, he was dead. Trudging along the back alley slowly without bumping into the walls since he just heard the voices that beckoned him in Mastema's direction, he had yet to notice the human himself.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] 'I should be okay if I stay low', Mastema figured. Unfortunately, fate had other things in store for him... or rather, Lucky Wyrm had. What could be possible meant by that? Oh, nothing much. Just a metal can filled with rocks thrown right where Mastema were, creating a loud, resonant noise that could be likened to a pistol shot in the middle of the mass, class, airplane on a long flight or anything where there are a lot of people and silence prevails (or at least it should).[/color]
[color=#ffffff] It doesn't need to be mentioned that Mastema was busted, as zombies' modus operandi completely relies on hearing. The young man glared furiously in the direction from where the can came from, and where a slightly yellow-hued set of teeth cracked a malicious smile. As the youngster couldn't afford to have his attention diverted for more than a fracture of a second, he whipped his head back towards the incoming danger.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] It was a hopeless fight. His leg cut by that sod Lucky Wyrm from behind without any warning, no weapon to equip. But nevertheless, he fought. There was a vile, blood-thirsty dark beast lurking inside him, after all. Additionally, he detested going down without a fight. So he fought. Even if he had to use his bare hands, kicks and headbutts to deflect the swam, he fought. But it was too much after all, especially since the zombies were a whole lot stronger than him, and he soon lost himself in the fight.[/color]
[color=#ffffff]***[/color]
[color=#ffffff] Mastema didn't know how he survived the fray. The only thing he knew what that there were dozen corps lying around him in the alley, and that he was lying in betwwen them, his body all sore and aching.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] With an excruciating effort he moved along the alley, prone. He felt blood gushing from his wounds slowly, but it seemed they were getting better. He himself was not, though.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] Led by a faint light in the darkness of the night, he finally managed to reach the exit of the back alley. There were homeless people sleeping by the wall, and on the other side of the street was a tavern called 'Crimson Scorpion'. He decided to seek respite in it after taking a small break here.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] Suddenly, he heard some muttering from the side. It was one of the dirty men sleeping there. Not that he looked any better than them now, anyhow.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "Do you accept?" a man muttered in his sleep.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] "ACCEPT what?", stressed the young man quietly, having nothing better than this to do while he rested.[/color]
[color=#ffffff] Suddenly, he noticed that he got two notifications waiting for his attention. He immediately started to read them.[/color]
[align=center][color=#ffffff][table][tr][td100]You have converted to the Daydreamer class[/td100][[/tr][tr]Calling upon the will that allowed you to weather many ordeals in your life, you can imagine tools to materialize them. No fixed skills whatsoever are associated with this class. The strength of your creations varies - it depends on your willpower (and the willpower of your enemy whenever your attack damage is concerned).[/color]
[color=#ffffff]Your 'mana' stat is converted into 'willpower' stat[/color]
[color=#ffffff]Willpower and, in small part, stamina are necessary for you to use the power associated with your class. Potentially infinite, it can be hindered by fatigue, state of mind and distractions. Also, you are now unable to learn any skills unless you have created them yourself - you have to rely solely on the power of your class. It is no problem to copy other classes skills with your power, though.[/td100][/tr][/table][/color]
[/align]
[color=#ffffff] And the second one,[/color]
[align=center][color=#ffffff][table][tr][td100]You have become a zombie due to being bitten by one and dying.[/color]
[color=#ffffff]You can recover your stamina and heal by eating meat of any kind.[/color]
[color=#ffffff]The injury on your left leg has become perpetual since it was sustained right before zombification. Be glad that no blood will be gushing from it.[/td100][/tr][/table][/color]
[/align]
[color=#ffffff]The end[/color]
[color=#ffffff]I really had it some problems with this chapter. One after I wrote half of it the PC had to be reset, and another one when the browser crashed. Result - had to write it three times... Anyway, it's written now. But even then I had problems since I wanted to copy the window instead of creating it anew, but it lodged itself in the beginning instead of the end. Srsly. Thus, there are no spaces in the beginnings of the paragraphs as should be and there may be mistakes but I'm srsly fed up with it so sorry but I will dispense with a spell check. Eventually I copied everything to the notepad, completed the window and pasted it back here, and it can't be edited, lol.[/color]
[color=#ffffff]It so happens that whatever is pasted in the post area will not be posted. I really have it with it!!!! Fuck!!!
Seems like I've done something fancy, lol. Well, this is the only option other than simply writing everything again. Fuck no. I don't have another 1-2 to spare. Srsly I would love it if something was done about this parody of 'paste'. Well, just don't mind the color shit. And use your imagination for the windows. Td2 is half of the screen and tr is a new line. I srsly am fed up with it! Well, I now know what I should avoid when I post next chapters, so please just bear with it this one time.