Disobedience is a player's natural talent, and causing chaos is their daily bread.
The players of the Grenadier Corps, who had been holed up in a cave researching Wildfire for days, could no longer stand the gloomy life of staring at green flames all day.
After some egging on, Minister_of_Excuses (nicknamed "Teflon" by his guildmates for his ability to dodge responsibility) also felt bored. He slammed the table and decided: they would take their newly invented toys and go out for a spin.
The sun was high in the sky. After accepting the new recruits, the Grenadier Corps—a formidable force of over a hundred men—marched out of the courtyard under the guise of an "orientation party."
But once they were out, the players, draped in jars and bottles, were stumped. Where to?
"Hehehe, bros, this game is realistic in every way, but there's one thing we haven't experienced yet," a player named Laws_Cannot_Touch_Me smirked lecherously from the back of the crowd.
The other players immediately wore knowing, perverted grins. They understood exactly what he meant.
The new recruits, hearing that the guild offered "premium benefits" like visiting a brothel, were overjoyed. They all expressed that they had definitely come to the right place.
"Shall we?" Teflon straightened his flashy commander's cloak and looked left and right.
"Let's go!"
The players jostled their Guild Leader forward.
Dawn stood at the very back of the group, smiling helplessly, then followed along.
It didn't take long. Under the gaze of the locals—who looked at them like they were monkeys—a few veteran players followed the scent and located a brothel.
They found the place, but as soon as the players walked in, they were told the brothel had been booked out by someone else.
If this were real life, the players would have just shrugged and left to find another one.
But sorry, this is a game. The only reason players tolerate Viserys is because low favorability leads to a ban, and they don't want to lose access to the game.
But other NPCs?
"Fck your mother!" A hot-blooded player kicked the old man who came out to politely shoo them away, sending him tumbling. Before the old man could wail, the player had already drawn a dagger from his waist and pressed it against the man's throat:
"Consider yourself lucky that Grandpa is in a good mood today. While I'm still smiling, tell those people who booked the place to scramble. We have business to discuss. If you can't chase them out, I'll kill you right now!"
Slap! After speaking, the player slapped the old man across the face.
The slap nearly made the old man, who barely had any teeth left, cry on the spot.
"Get moving! Scram!"
Amidst the raucous laughter of the players, the old man scrambled up and ran toward the second floor.
"Damn, spineless wretch! This is the only place I'd tolerate this. If this were Los Santos, I would've leveled this place with a tank already!"
A player produced a chair from somewhere. Teflon flourished his cloak and sat down, maxing out his pretentiousness meter.
"Why does the Boss look like that eunuch villain from Flying Swords of Dragon Gate?"
"Don't talk nonsense. He's not nearly as handsome as the actor."
"What are you whispering about?" Teflon lazily turned his head to look at the two players muttering in the corner.
The two exchanged a look:
"I said, you look majestic, sir!"
Thud, thud, thud.
The players looked up.
A swarm of mercenaries, weapons in hand, poured down from the second floor.
The leader was a mercenary with a broad face and messy, black-grey hair. Judging by his attire, he was the boss.
"I am Prendahl na Ghezn, Captain of the Stormcrows. Brothers, if you're looking for fun, there's no need for this. We can share half the girls with you."
Seeing the ground floor packed with over a hundred men, the mercenary captain waved his hand, signaling his brothers to lower their weapons. His tone softened.
If it were ordinary people, hearing the name "Stormcrows" and receiving such a polite offer would be enough to settle things.
But players are different.
Teflon didn't even look at him. Laws_Cannot_Touch_Me, acting like a classic henchman, mimicked the demeanor of Crow (from the HK movie Young and Dangerous) and looked arrogantly at Prendahl:
"Looking for fun? No, that was the plan initially. But now, we just want to look for trouble."
"Do you really want to start a fight with us inside the city of Pentos?" A bald man with a savage scar on his face, standing next to Prendahl, picked his nose and looked at Laws with disdain.
"Correct answer. Unfortunately, no prize. Burn this brothel down!"
It was Teflon who spoke.
"Ooh!"
This order made the pyromaniacs behind him ecstatic.
Under the confused and then shocked gazes of the Stormcrows, the players of the Grenadier Corps pulled out transparent jars filled with Wildfire from their chests and backs—jars they had modified themselves.
"Fck! Madmen!"
Prendahl, an experienced veteran, recognized the substance in their hands immediately. He turned, shoved his men aside, and fled upstairs in terror.
"Whoosh!"
But it was too late.
The Wildfire jars were already flying through the air.
Followed closely by lit fire starters.
"Woohoo!"
The players cheered, while the Stormcrows screamed in terror, pushing and shoving each other as they tried to escape upstairs.
Boom!
A green dragon of fire instantly swallowed dozens of mercenaries huddled together.
Human torches screamed and struggled.
Some players who remained inside simply logged off on the spot.
Yes, in the last update, Viserys had thoughtfully fixed the "bug" players complained about, allowing them to sleep (log off) anywhere.
The remaining players, who had already fled outside, weren't finished yet.
A row of players stood ready with bows. Attached to each arrowhead was a special cylindrical canister. At Teflon's command, arrows flew in a volley, picking off the mercenaries struggling to escape and igniting them a second time.
"Wuhu!"
"Explosion is art!"
"This feels so damn good!"
It was a hundred times better than Los Santos! Why? Because it was just too realistic.
Looking at the suffering, wailing mercenaries, Teflon waved his hand boredly, ready to lead his men away.
"Fck!"
Thud, thud, thud.
Suddenly, a massive crowd of mercenaries rushed out from the street corner. The leader, a man with blue shoulder-length hair wielding an arakh, roared:
"Kill them!"
"Boss, looks like they're with the guys inside," King_of_Femboys whispered next to Teflon.
"I can see that. So what?" Teflon expressed his disdain for the newcomers, then shouted to the players behind him:
"Grenadiers! Charge and light them up too!"
Under the mercenaries' gazes—as if looking at lunatics—the players of the Grenadier Corps raised their Wildfire jars high, howling as they charged.
Same tactic.
No one expected a bunch of madmen to throw Wildfire jars like rocks. As the jars flew toward them, most of the mercenaries stood frozen in place, bewildered.
"Fck!" Blue-haired Daario turned and bolted.
But his subordinates, who reacted half a beat slower, were out of luck.
"Ah!"
The Wildfire jars burst open instantly, followed by fire arrows. In a split second, the front row of nearly a hundred mercenaries was turned into a barbecue.
Seeing this, the mercenaries in the back lost all courage. They scattered like birds, fleeing in a panic.
Under the players' Wildfire offensive, these guys came in a hurry and left in a hurry.
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Pat***** CaveLeather
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