The terrifying [Rizzly Bear] sat on a throne of skulls and bones. At its paws was a pool of its enemies’ blood, and the bear’s fur was stained in the blood of its sworn enemies.
“Dick, whatever you do, do NOT make eye contact. The [Rizzly Bear] can tear you apart faster than you can say ‘Damn, son! You’re a hokin’ mofo!”
“Damn, son! You’re a honkin’ mofo, aren’t you?” Dick said, staring the Rizzly bear in the eyes.
“DICK, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!? YOU’VE DOOMED US BOTH. Well, really just yourself, for I am Greg McLeod, and I cannot die.”
“Rude,” the Rizzly bear replied in a dignified Bri’ish accent. “Ser, I will have you know that I am Sir Rizznatchulous. Arch Rizzly of this here rizzly magical academy here.”
“This is an empty forest.”
“Yes. And?”
“And why do you keep saying ‘Rizz’ for no reason?”
“What, like rizz?”
“Yes.”
“Because this is the Rizzly Forest, good ser. What other reason could there be?”
“Good point,” Dick replied.
“By the way. Are you in to men?” the [Rizzly Bear] said, flexing his bicep.
“Sorry, I’m as straight as straight as the barrel on an M16 rifle.”
“Ah. Truly a shame. But anything with a pulse can be hit on, did you know?”
“I’ll take your word for it. Anyway, I’m looking for the town of Rizz.”
“Well, why didn’t you just say so!” the [Rizzly Bear] said, putting away the book it was reading—titled Lord of the Rizz—and standing to its full height. Sir Rizznatchulous stood nearly twice as tall as Dick himself, but the [Middle Class American] was unfazed. The American Dream was all about going up against bigger, badder foes, after all.
“If you’ll have me, I shall be your humble guide,” Sir Rizznatch said, bowing.
Dick thumbed over to the bear. “He doesn’t seem all that dangerous.”
Greg stared at the [Rizzly Bear] with glazed over eyes. “I don’t know anymore. I just don’t know anything anymore. I feel like being with you is slowly destroying my brain cells.”
“Don’t worry, Greg,” Dick said with a comforting look. “That’s not gonna happen.”
“W-why that’s awfully kind of you, Dick. I know, I didn’t mean—”
“You’re a star. You don’t have a brain.”
“... Yep. I’m not even gonna try to retort.”
“Smart. Roman philosopher named Playdoh once said that. ‘I know nothing,’ was his catchphrase.”
“What happened to him?”
“They killed him for talking too much.”
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The Rizzly Forest was a strange place, teeming with even stranger monsters such as the [Rizzard] and the [William Rizzner], all of whom seemed to be continuously occupied with the act of copulation. While Dick wanted to proceed straight away to the [Town] of Rizz, Greg convinced him to linger with a few choice words.
“The people want progression!” Greg said. “It’s the dopamine, man! It’s what keeps them coming back!”
“Greg, why would anyone in their right mind repeatedly kill the same monsters for hours? Don’t you think there’s something wrong with these people?” Dick replied, accurately highlighting the mental issues all rpg’ers suffered. “Perhaps they belong in a mental facility.”
“Well, obviously. But you’ve experienced the thrill of Number Go Up, haven’t you? Besides, if not for the fun, do it for the money! Just think of all the Buttcoin you’ll earn selling those corpses to people with weird fetishes! No wait, I mean, prospective buyers!”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“People do have strange kinks,” Dick agreed. “It’d be a crime to deprive them, wouldn’t it?”
“Uh, yeah? Sure? Whatever floats your boat. Look! There’s one now! A [Rizzly Bear Chad]. Go give him the ole’ one-two!”
“Yes! Give him the what-for!” Rizznatchulous said in his refined Bri’ish accent. “But my good man, are you quite sure he’s up to it?”
“Oh, he’ll be fine,” Greg replied “Just watch.”
“DICK SMASH!” Dick said, smashing his fist into the [Rizzly Bear Chad]’s oversized jaw. The massive jawline made the perfect target, and the animal went flying off into outer space.
“That’s how you do it.”
Congrizzulations! You have ki-rizz-lled [Rizzly Bear Chad] lvl 11. + 690 EXP.
“Uh, Dick? We can’t store its corpse if you send it into orbit.”
“Well, sheeeit.”
“My good ser, the proper term is Rizz.”
And so, led by their [Rizzly Bear] guide, who showed them all the prime spots, Dick did Dicksmash. A task made easier by all the humping animals.
“DICK SMASH!”
Congratulations! You have ki-rizz-lled [Rizzler] lvl 14. + 434 EXP.
“DICK SMAAAASH!”
Congratulations! You have ki-rizz-lled [Rizzbug] lvl 9. + 376 EXP.
“KAREN SMASH!”
Congratulations! You have ki-rizz-lled [Rizz Karen] lvl 9000. + 1 EXP.
Congratulations! You have Number Go Up’d! Welcome to Number Go Up: 32.
“DICK SMASH!”
Congratulations! You have ki-rizz-lled [Rizz Offender] lvl 44. + 1455 EXP.
“LIBERAL SMASH!”
Congratulations! You have ki-rizz-lled [The Harizz] lvl 1. + 5 EXP.
“DICK SMASH!”
Congratulations! You have ki-rizz-lled [Rizztafarian] lvl 7. + 238 EXP.
Congratulations! You have Number Go Up’d! Welcome to Number Go Up: 33.
“I see you’re adding to your ‘smash’ repertoire. Pretty soon, you’ll have an entire cultivation manual’s worth of moves!”
“What can I say? I smash things and Number Go Up.”
----------------------------------------
The town of Rizz was unlike anything Dick expected. He’d hoped for a civilized place, with people driving trucks—or the medieval equivalent—and far too many flags flying everywhere.
Instead, he found yet another generic medieval town, but with two glaring exceptions.
“Why does everyone have mohawks?”
“That’s what you comment on? Not the people humping each other in broad daylight!?”
The moment Dick uttered the taboo word, all hell broke loose. Rizzlers who were just going about their daily rizzness screamed at the top of their lungs and ran. The rizzdogs… they ran too.
"This is harizzment!" someone shouted.
Soon, the street was abandoned, save for Dick, Greg, Butch, and Rizznatchulous, their [Rizzly Bear] guide. Butch, who had been playing in Dick’s personal dimension, bounded out, still in his miniaturized form.
“Stretch your legs, boy. Looks like the locals are giving us the town.”
“That’s probably not what they intended,” Greg replied. “Oh wait. Oh no. Nonono. This can’t be happening! Here she comes!”
“Who?”
“The [Rizzenator]. The ruler of this city. She’s the one who made everyone have mohawks. She’s a tyrant who rules with an iron fist. The perpetrator of a great many tears shed.”
The [Rizzenator] finally appeared, and even their [Rizzly Bear] guide cowered in fear before her.
Dick stared up at the ten foot tall chrome badass who stood before him. A pure-bred killing machine, built by the sentient AI Skynet, who for some reason also existed in this world and might be rizzponsible for the System. Maybe. Possibly.
The terminator wore a a classic gothic lolita outfit with a corset, lace stockings, and black boots… and had blush applied to its chrome skeletal cheeks.
“The [Rizzenator]’s a crossdressing Terminator?”
“Apparently.”
“I thought you said this world’s medieval?”
“I don’t know, Dick. I don’t even know anymore.”
“Rizzdiculous.”