Volume 3 - Chapter 5 - Oops

Do note that this is the April Fool edition, proceed further if you want the standard version.

Without da bling and shabling, Bell extendz her collapsed halberd n' runs toward tha playa wit her signature large, silent strides across tha clearing. Before tha yawnin playa can even drop his thugged-out arms, tha felinoid be already high bove his head, wit her halberd all wound up.

*zubashi*

Followed by goin tha fuck into a gangbangin' front flip, tha axehead of tha halberd slashes up towardz tha top of his chest, up tha throat ta tha centa of tha neck, all up in tha chin n' exitin all up in tha top of his nose. Da playa slumps forward wit his niggah ass eyes wide open, landin grill first just behind where Bell landed mere chachas ago. Turnin round sharply, her big-ass booty starts jabbin tha tip of her halberd tha fuck into tha squirrel-ass corpse repeatedly as though it’s her muthafathas’ killer.

"What tha hell is you bustin?!" Rick whispers coarsely over tha PM, still within tha darknizz of tha trees.

Da felinoid stops moving, turnin ta grill toward tha group. "Oops…mutherfuka"

"What oops ya bumblaboobs, git tha hell outta there biaaatch! Yo ass just got marked as a murderer!"

Lookin up, her big-ass booty sees a funky-ass blood-red sword symbol above her head, it’s clearly thear even though it don’t give off no luminosity.

"What tha hell?! This dat crossdressin pervert from before biaaatch! Why tha hell did I get marked- shitnizzle."

Realizin dat she’s bustin a racket, she immediately collapses her halberd n' runs off ta tha nearest tree, beyond tha light of tha dim dangly thang lamp.

*dota dota* *sha*

Da sound of wood bein hustled is followed by tha soft rustlin of dem ded tree shiz.

"Hmm… what tha fuck do you make outta this, mah niggah?"

"What yo mean muthafuka?"

"Yeah, what thafuk yo mean, man? Dont gimme na a dat shit"

"Well, even though we biatchslapped tha First Supa-Hoe’ quest, she’s bustin our asses ta tha Third Supa-Hoe instead n' askin our asses not ta tell her dat her big-ass booty busted us. What gives?"

"No clue shineshine, wish I knew mo' bout what’s goin on wit tha Norman Mackdaddydom… but I hope you muthafuckas ain’t mad dat I didn’t end up acceptin dat shit."

"Pffft, we holla'd we’d stop bustin shiznit like dat already, we ain’t no dirtydealas."

ED: OOPS

"That’s right my niggah, we ain’t gonna trick no muthafucka n' no muthafucka ain’t gonna trick our asses again, dis shiznit should be bout adventure n' manlinizz n' what tha fuck not!"

"Hahaha, glad you muthafuckas feel tha same biaaatch! … Hmm, biatch? Hendricks, why tha hell is you chillin on tha floor, didn’t you say you’d wait fo' our asses outside?"

Three pimps exit from a hidden trapdoor as they rap amongst theyselves, struttin outta tha dimly lit staircase dat leadz underground. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! One of dem strutts toward tha body layin on tha ground n' pokes it roughly up in tha booty wit tha blunt end of tha spear up in his hand.

"Ya bro, Hendricks, time ta go…" Da playa bendz down, roughly bobbin tha unresistin body. "What thafukman?! Defensive Formation!"

Da other two pimps shout "Defensive Formation" down tha staircase before rushin over tha dude, whoz ass immediately jumps up, brandishin his spear as he looks tha fuck into tha darknizz. Da others do tha same, albeit wit some mad drama.

"What-"

"Hendricks is dead as fuckin fried chicken at mah ma's batsmitzba."

Before tha question can be asked, tha playa already gave tha answer n' shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Shortly after, 17 mo' pimps n' dem hoes step tha fuck up from tha staircase, drawin dem weapons as they strut their fine mmhmm ass outta dat hole.

"Shiznit, peep what tha fuck you did hommie! Kun is signalin dat we should git outta here, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Let’s hook up back at camp." Rick whispers harshly wit a PM ta Bell before disappearing, headin tha fuck into a gangbangin' finger-lickin' different direction from da hell they came from.

* * * * *

"Care ta explain yo ass, Bell?" Kun asks wit a cold-ass lil confounded expression, wit his thugged-out arms crossed.

Da crew had returned silently, all up in a roundabout route, in case them coppas gets on our case. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Afta scarin tha sentry fo' a split moment, they gathered round tha main burnin campfire.

"I… ain't tell no lie, tha blood just rushed ta mah head." Da felinoid lyrics sheepishly while chillin up in seiza.

[T/N: "Sittin up in a kneelin position" don’t carry tha nuizzle necessary up in dis case, seiza (正座) is tha res'pect chillin position, up in dis case, it shows da crew your bad with ya booty-ass.]

"Pffffttt, it looked like you was slaughterin a funky-ass pimp dat cheated on yo thugged-out ass." Rick is chewin on a piece of snake jerky wit both his handz behind his head, layin down while leanin and chillin.

"Do we gotta put Bell-ne on a leash tha next time~?"

"Yo brah, dafuks a ‘leash’?"

"It’s suttin' you tie ta one of mah thugs’s neck ta prevent dem from goin too far."

"Kiiiinky biatch y'all."

"Betyoass it is." Kun turns away from tha fox n' focuses his wild lil' fuckin eyes on tha red sword above Bell’s head. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "First thangs first, we need ta git rid of dis shit."

"Eh, what’s tha rule fo' gettin rid of it again?" Bell looks up as well, pondering.

"Let’s see~ Da formula is X times 24 minutez of log up in time. Then 0.1%-0.5% fixed minusing from tha penalty time fo' each eligible mob kill~ Durin dis time, experience lost as a result from dirtnap is 10 times tha aiiight amount."

Da others turn ta peep her muthafuckin ass.

"Where is you gettin this…, biatch? This aint up in tha help section…" Rick is pokin n' flickin his wild lil' fingers tha fuck into tha air as da perved-out muthafucka searches all up in tha intercourse. Likewise, Kun is bustin tha same while Bell gots outta her seiza posizzle n' is now chillin up in a agura position.

[T/N: "Sittin up in a cold-ass lil cross-legged position" don’t carry tha nuizzle like wit seiza. In dis case, agura (胡座) is considered a unsightly chillin posizzle since dem hoes aren’t sposed ta fuckin sit up in dis way. It’s also used ta indicate Bell’s attitude. In dis case, either her dope ass don’t care fo' manners or dat she feels close enough ta mah playas ta do dis and show off her bad booty ass (or a lil' bit of both).]

"Oh~! Yo ass just access tha command sidebar n' connect it ta tha external terminal by typin up in ‘browse -x -remote’, then you can use tha terminal browser thang inside tha game. Just don’t share it wit mah playas~"

""AH!""

"Huh?"

"Mm?"

Rick n' Bell shanizzles excitedly as they open they own browser while Kun n' Gui both share a thugged-out dumbass expression, not shizzle what’s goin on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Well shiiiit, it lasted fo' all of a second since there be pressin thangs at hand.

"So there’s two thangs dat we need ta do: Bell has ta lose dat Murderer status. We need ta smoke up what’s goin on wit tha bizzatches. Our thugged-out asses have no clue what tha fuck is goin on wit tha First Supa-Hoe yo, but dem playas mentioned tha Third Princess… our phat asses definitely need mo' shiznit."

"Kun brah has a point… since dice is we might gotta break tha fuck into dat hideout one of these days, there’s a high chizzle one of our asses is goin ta take a thugged-out dirt nap." Rick agrees while shiftin a piece of jerky up in his crazy-ass grill. "Unless Bell don’t mind losin her booty-ass pounded, 10 times tha experience, don’t dat mean she might even lose a level, biatch? Although dat do explain how tha fuck Kun gots all kindsa muthafuckin levels from dem crystals…"

Da felinoid cook up a gangbangin' finger-lickin' hard as fuck face. "Well, I’ve some leeway up in tha next few days, guess I’ll go grind some mobs n' have tha lil playas slice dem deadbeats…"

"In dat case, we will go back ta Lilyheim ta gather mo' shiznit~"

Kun starts rubbin his chin, "Yo ass know… been thang thinking… Rick, git me 10 piecez of Marsh Viper leather within 12 hours biatch?"

"Eh?" Rick cook up a thugged-out retard expression. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "What for?"

"Hmm, guess brah got no hustle…"

"Ah, I peep what tha fuck yo ass is tryin ta do!" Bell smacks a gangbangin' fist tha fuck into her palm, while chewin on a snake jerky five day until Sunday. "It ain't no work eh, too bad."

"Yo ass is done repentin already, biatch? And what tha fuck is it dat da thug was tryin ta do, cook up a pair of snake trousers or something?" Da blond youth narrows his wild lil' fuckin eyes as da perved-out muthafucka slowly chews on tha meat.

"Hmm~?" Till tilts her head slightly, remainin silent as Bell n' Rick bantas fo' realz. Afta tha youth gots knocked up in tha head n' backed away from tha felinoid, she places her right hand, palm up, up in front of her ass, while nodding, placin her left hand over tha right hand, claspin dem together n' shit. "Rick-ni, I request dat you git me a funky-ass bundle of dem elongated fruit within 12 hours, tha reward is 1 silver."

Da piece of snake jerky falls outta Rick’s grill, as da perved-out muthafucka stares blankly all up in tha transparent window before his wild lil' fuckin eyes. Da crew turns dey head at his sudden silence n' stillness, even Bell’s expression got a chillin'. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. Like boogiewoogie by a Bob Marley n' shiz, Rick shamblez towardz tha supply tent, grabs a round bundle of fruit n' returns, droppin dem tha fuck into Till’s hand. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Both Rick n' Till rub they eyes as they peep they respectizzle windows fo' realz. A moment later, tha hoe grabs suttin' from her waist-pouch n' handz over a lil' small-ass silver coin.

"Kun-ni… Where did you git dis scam from~?"

"EEEHHHHH!, biatch? It works?!" Da realization of what tha fuck just occurred hits tha felinoid like a sudden squall on a sunny day.

*kon*

"Shhhhhh! Yo ass wanna raise up tha kids?" Rick, up in a reversal of roles, smacks Bell up in tha head ta on tha down-low her down.

"I figured, since tha hustlas can use tha magic our slick asses hustled from Alfina’s books, they should be tha same as us… right, biatch? All our niggs tha NPCs can do requests on our behalf like when we was tryin ta isolate dem two guilds. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Since we need shiznit, we can hustle some help from tha NPCs muthafukas… no?"

"How, what, how tha fuck is NPCs tha same ol' dirty as us?!" Rick make a incredulous face, then tha pimpin' muthafucka turns n' peep tha gray fox dat disappeared at some point n' is now chewin on a piece of snake jerky as well. Placin his head up in his hands, his schmoooove ass can only mumble a "nevermind" as he relishes tha def sensation from tha silver coin seepin tha fuck into his wild lil' face.

"Nyahahahaha, MAH NIGGAH! MAH NIGGAH!" Da felinoid suppresses her buckwild voice, as she repeats tha word nuff muthafuckin times while trippin' off tha new shizzle thang.

"But dis was just between users, we need ta peep if it hangs wit NPCs." Kun starts gettin up. "I’m goin ta test it wit tha sentries."

Da blond youth’s head suddenly snaps up. "Hold ya ass boy, if it hangs, I just gots a schnizzlemahwizzle. Let me join yo thugged-out ass."

"What yo dirty ass got planned yo…?"

* * * * *

"Eh, biatch? So dis is tha place, biatch? Not bad, not wack at all." I mumble ta mah dirty ass as I git escorted tha fuck into a misty forest by a crew of pimps dat have beastial features. In front of me be a multistory buildin wit a big-ass field bustlin wit activitizzles up in front of dat shit. Just behind, I can peep a shitload of log buildingz of various sizes as well as various facilities.

"Yo, wuz crackalackin', biatch? Yo ass is smokin Zinnia Academy, Masta Barthos yo. Hoes call me Echo, I'ma be yo' liaison, if you have any thangs, let me know."

"Don’t be all kindsa stiff, mah pimp dawwwwg! Just call me Barthos!" I give tha lean playa a slap on his back as some stablehandz lead tha dog-like horses away. "Ah, dem is tha other instructors, I take it?" I point all up in tha various figures fightin vigorously on tha field.

"Damn straight dawg, they tha instructors Kun-dawg hired ta help expand tha Academy. Would you like ta join them?"

Huh… rockin a game ta train playas eh… guess oldschool Hank wasn’t clownin at all yo. Huh… what tha fuck tha hell…

"Fuck dat shit, mo' blinginly, whoz ass built dem buildings, biatch? Aside from dat big-ass buildin up in front, tha rest of dem feel wrong!"

"Hmm… da fuck do you mean?"

Without botherin ta explain all tha details ta dis Echo, I run tha nuff muthafuckin hundred metas ta tha nearest building like dem fat kids to da icecream truck, causin Echo ta chase afta mah dirty ass. Wait… I’m hustlin, biatch? Damn, no wonder they was hirin all dem Untouchablez n' even oldschool Pamuk, dis might just work up fo' em. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Shakin mah head, I chase dem idle thoughts up as I inspect tha log buildin up in front of mah dirty ass.

"Damn dat shiznit son!" I turn round as I wait fo' tha liaison ta catch up ta me, freakshizzling, he’s standin right behind mah dirty ass.

"Da hell man?"

"Dem buildings, we gotta repair them, or even rekt dat shiz."

Da man’s ears perk straight up from tha shock like getting watermelon with mah waffl'n chick'n. "But… we built dem a whiff and a drag ago."

"Who’s tha engineer?"

"Engineer?"

"Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck pimped up you ta build dem like this?!" I can feel a headache comin on, dis game’s simulation is too realistic fo' me, I didn’t expect dumbmuthafuks wit no construction knowledge ta be buildin thangs here as well.

"Ther ain't none, our laid-back asses just built these buildings like our phat asses do durin expeditions."

"Expeditions…, biatch? Those be shack for naps you muthafuck'nfools! Des be real buildings right!, biatch? And this, THIS!" I point all up in tha warped piecez of lumber on tha building. "Did no one be thinkin ta use green-wood construction steez! These buildings could be collapsin up in weeks muthafucka! AHHH!"

[T/N: I had no clue wtf green-wood construction was so I decided ta look it up fo' realz. Apparently fresh lumbers (known as chronic wood) probably can’t be used ta build thangs as is since it needz months or even muthafuckin years fo' tha wood ta season (dry up) ta ensure stability, free from breakage, shrinkage n' warping. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Since there’s no mentionin of tha speciez of trees involved, I can only surmise dat engineers up in EC’s Ghetto have thought up of ways ta use fresh lumber without requirin ta wait fo' tha wood ta dry. This also explains how tha fuck they was able ta construct Kun’s freshly smoked up facilitizzles rockin fresh lumbers as well.]

"… Come wit me, if what tha fuck you holla'd is true, we need ta resolve dis quicker than a muthafucka." Da playa dashes off towardz a particularly robust building, wit me followin right behind.

* * * * *

*kan* *kan* *dokkan*

"Dogg damn it, five days muthafucka! Just five minutes n' every last muthafuckin thang went ta hell!"

"Quit complainin n' help, you fagnabber!"

Rick is up in a cold-ass lil crouchin posizzle afta throwin up ballz of ice ta bludgeon some enemies by rotatin n' flippin rapidly, complainin bitterly. Bell, on tha other hand, is desperately fendin off users, non-users, n' mobs alike fo' realz. A chaotic scene of a massive battle royale is playin up within tha clearin n' tha surroundin jungle area.

"We shoulda waited fo' Kun n' Gui!"

"Den we be late like a trippa!"

"Bell-ne, duck~!" A blasto of air *hyuu* over tha felinoid whoz ass kneels down up in tha nick of time, bustin a human swordsman n' his sweepin sword tha fuck into a crew of fatassmidgets, whoz ass immediately dispatches his ass wit dem axes.

…

…

…

Da dizzle followin Rick’s proclamation of a plan, Rick n' Till went ta Lilyheim ta carry it out. They first axed fo' permission ta use tha [Request Bulletin] up in tha town-square from tha guards, dat shiznit was a strange request yo, but tha guardz had no beef, especially since they is hang wit Kun and crew, whoz ass brought tha slavers in. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da request was simple.

Quest: Show your scholarly prowess!

Show yo' knowledge n' gotz a cold-ass lil chizzle ta win a scholarshizzle ta Zinnia Academy attended by Nobilitizzles n' Royaltizzles alike biaaatch! Each freshly smoked up piece of shiznit regardin Norman Mackdaddydom’s First Princess, Third Princess, n' tha Royalties, is ghon be rewarded wit 1 silver n' a lottery slip fo' tha drawing!