As soon as this pinnacle specimen of asshat is done with his literal song and dance, Snow steps forward onto the red carpet to stare him down... or more than that if she needs to. She’s not alone. A large group of tough looking Beastfolk men follow along behind her, ready to raise hell if things get ugly.

I’m not sure where they were hiding before the intruder came, but there’s a hell of a lot of burly lions and tigers and bears all of a sudden.

Meanwhile, I run to my girls and get behind them in case I need to give the command to have them intervene.

“Stand back for now. We need to see how this plays out.” I order Sam as I draw near and notice that the Princess was just about ready to run and attack the bizarre new threat any second now.

“...” She looks at me and I can clearly see her emerald eyes shining brightly with the boiling anger of the Royal Blood. She grimaces and manages to calm herself down just enough to speak, “I... alright. I’ll try...”

Slowly but surely that meditation seems to be paying off, and once again I feel pride in how much work the Princess is putting in to change herself.

“What is that man DOING?!” Meri is a blushing mess after witnessing this entire ordeal.

‘He seems to be doing whatever the hell he wants.’ Zutiria watches with great curiosity, intrigued by this bizarre scenario but still concerned.

All eyes turn to Snowball as she stands staring up at the golden phallus and the ridiculous man standing atop it. 

A seedy grin spreads across his face the moment he sees the white furred Catmaid. “Oh HELLS to the yes. HOE’S, ASSEMBLE!” Sir Pimpington snaps his fingers and all of his assorted strippers form a skanky human-orc-dwarf-elf staircase that he literally starts tap dancing his merry little way down from, making sure to give a few of their asses a healthy smack with the bottom of his pimp cane as he does so.

He jumps off of the final step of his slutty staircase and lands in a crouching position so he can thrust upwards with his pelvis as he rises. “I AM HERE... Fo’ all the pussy up in this here tent. WHERE ALL THE TITTIES AT, CAN YA FEEL ME?! AYYYY!!” He shouts to no one in particular, but of course his women call chant in response.

“WE CAN FEEL YA, LORD PIMPINGTON!”

“I’m afraid I’m going to skip the niceties and ask you to leave. You did not pass our screening and you attacked our staff. Count yourself lucky you’re leaving with your life.” Snowball squints her eyes and raises her short, nine-tailed whip threateningly. Behind her, the army of beefy Beastfolk begin ripping their shirts off simply by flexing their pecs. They hunch over into animal-like fighting positions and show off their fangs and claws with fierce determination.

Meri’s armor is clanking at the sight and she knows that they’re on OUR side. “I-I-I had no idea that Beastfolk could be so scary...!!”

“If you ask me, the really scary one is Snow.” Sam states with a discerning eye.

“What makes you say that?”

“Mn. Not sure. Just a feeling.” She squints and continues to watch.

Sir Pimpington looks at the woman standing defiantly in front of him through his obnoxiously gaudy sunglasses. “Mmmm, kitty got herself some CLAWS, huh? A whip? A crop? You won’t be needing those fo’ too much longer, girl, not when I get ahold of you. Naw. Femdom is fo’ homosexuals that like to pretend they straight, ya dig?” He reaches out to grab Snow by the wrist but is all of a sudden overcome with a blast of murderous intent, jumping back about ten feet out instinct alone.

It goes without saying his blanket statement about femdom feels like a personal attack, but I’m not going to get us involved over something as embarrassing as that.

“You’re welcome to try and touch me again, but know that next time I won’t stop at just a feint.” The head maid cracks her whip so loud that it echoes out into the darkened bigtop and makes some of the weaker Beastfolk cringe upon hearing it.

“I felt that! Same shit Nikita used on me in training...” Sam gasps and reads the situation, eyes unable to look away from the pimp and the maid currently having a standoff.

“HAH! Ah, you really thought you was threatening? Fo’ real? Naw naw naw, I just ain’t in the mood fo’ beating yo’ ASS myself.” The villain wags his ring covered finger dismissively, like he’s entirely convinced that if he had to fight Snow he’d be capable of defeating her.

“I ain’t even come here fo’ a fight in the first place, ya feel me? I am a pimp who respects the economical processes up in this bitch! What I want is fo’ you to officially and legally sell me allllllll them FINE ass beast bitches. I didn’t bring no money, but I think this should more than cover all them costs.” Sir Pimpington bangs his golden phallus with his pimp cane.

Does he usually make purchases by dragging these things around or is he really just showing off? I don’t know which is worse...

“We don’t SELL Beastfolk. We adopt them to loving homes. You would do well to remember that.” Snowball stands her ground, but the legion of Beastmen behind her are beginning to grow restless. They want to run out and tear this asshole to shreds, and I can’t blame them for that. I’m just waiting for the second things head south so I can give the girls the order to help defend this place.

“Aw honey, if that’s the case then why the fuck yo’ bitch ass didn’t say so? Trust me. They ain’t gonna find a mo’ loving and caring home than they will when working fo’ my new expanded chain of Hoehouses!”

Sam snaps, drawing the massive blade from the sling on her back.

“SAM, NO!”

“RRRGHH!!” She yells in anger and runs off to attack the Pimp, but to her surprise he barely even bats her an eye.

He raises his hand and under the spotlight it shines brightly with the glimmering of his dozens of jeweled rings. In one fell snap his fingers he says, “LEFT HOE!”

“Yes, Sir Pimpington.” The woman pulling the golden chariot on the left side unhooks herself from the reins and takes off her slave collar, only to start wielding it as a whip of sorts. She skillfully trips Sam with its golden chains and the warrior Princess falls flat on her face from the sudden attack.

“RIGHT HOE!”

“Yes, Sir Pimpington.” The other woman does just the same and begins swinging her chains with deadly speed. Right when she’s about to bring it crashing down over Sam’s back, I issue a command.

“Girls! That combo you used on the moth, NOW!”

“R-RIGHT!” Meri thrusts her shield out and Zutiria raises her staff and it begins to glow with a powerful burst of mana.

“S... SWAPSHADDA!” The Mage stabs her staff into the dirty ground beneath her and the effects of her spell change the world according to her own will.

Sam and Meri both sink into their own shadows and swap places in no time at all. The attack of the chained whip originally meant for Sam instead cracks down hard on Meri’s sturdy tower shield. With a look of determination in her eyes similar to when she defeated the Murdermoth, Meri shouts, “REFLECT!”

The glow from her shield looks less bright seeing as her mother’s power gem is now replaced by the much smaller gratitude crystal, but the following attack seems roughly on the same level as when she used it before.

The impact bellows out from her shield like a gong being struck, sending the henchwoman known as ‘Right Hoe’ crashing backwards into the shining chariot of champions itself.

She grunts from the intense pain and Meri readies herself in case Left Hoe decides to attack, but it’s not necessary.

“HOLD the fuck up, hold up hold up HOLD UP.” The pimp snaps his fingers together several times and both of his main henchwomen withdraw to his side, his squad of dancing strippers moving out of the way as he turns his attention towards me. “You that whack-ass Guild Masta who think he a pimp?”

I can’t help myself from face palming and scrunching my face together in misery. Please let my suffering end.

‘The legends of your lecherous ways are spreading, Sir.’ Zutiria sarcastically comforts me even now in this tense situation.

“I am nothing of the sort. Simply a concerned client who’s trying to make a legitimate adoption in peace. My ass is most certainly not whack.”

Sam snorts at me from her position down on the ground. “You sound like an old dude trying to stay hip.” She’s upset about her anger getting the best of her but it seems like it’s not bad enough that she can let a chance to tease me slide.

I do my best not to groan as my eye twitches from stress.

‘Worry not. I think your ass is quite cute.’ To emphasize it the little lady casually gropes my butt despite this very much not being the time for that. If she doesn’t behave herself I’m going to bop her on her little head.

“Well I ain’t gonna stop you, take the hoes you want and scram so the rest of us paying customers can LINE THE FUCK UP, BITCH! I got big, BIG plans in the works and I need me a couple hundred new fiiiine ass bitches.” As Sir Pimpington’s anger rises he points his finger at me. “Count yo little bitch ass lucky I got orders not to fuck with you.”

And there we go. My suspicions are confirmed.

“W-wait a minute...” Meri thinks aloud. “I thought the Duke and his men were a shadowy organization...”

“Does this man look like he’s capable of anything even remotely approaching the concept of ‘subtlety’, Meri?”

“...” Meri glares at the pimp briefly before shaking her head.

The villainous pimp turns his attention back to Snowball and her anxious pack of defensive Beastmen. “I already SAID I didn’t come here fo’ no fight. If I did... you wouldn’t last a single round, baby. I’m gonna give y’all mothafuckin’ animal chicks one last chance. You can either accept my generous offer or find out what happens when you get on the wrong side of my pimp hand, DO YA FEEL ME?”

“Do your worst, SCUM.” The head maid’s elegant expression disappears from her face, instead she hisses violently and bares her fangs even more fiercely than any of the angry men behind her. “ALL THE MEMBERS OF THIS TRIBE CHOOSE WHERE THEY GO, AND NOT ONE OF THEM WOULD EVER SO MUCH AS GLANCE IN YOUR GENERAL DIRECTION!”

Sir Pimpington pulls down the brim of his exotic crowned hat while shaking his head. “Y’all literal pussy-ass bitches ain’t heard the last of me. This ain’t done, naw. I just don’t wanna rough all my new sex kittens up... but I’ll be back later in the week after I figure a few things out with some friends of mine. Then, kitties, puppies, bunnies and the rest of y’all furry bitches are gonna have daddy teach ya some NEW TRICKS, YEAH!

Using sleight of hand he drops an unseen champagne bottle out of the sleeve of his pimp coat and places it to his groin, then promptly pops the cork to accentuate his point and make himself appear even further like a misogynistic dumbass. He thrusts his pelvis several times in the air until the stream of alcohol finally fizzles out into a limp stream of unimpressiveness.

“And regarding all y’all Guild motherfuckas over there, I’ll be seein’ yo’ bitch asses sooner than you might think!” He turns to face us and throws the bottle of champagne to the ground beneath him where it shatters into a thousand pieces. “LEFT HOE, RIGHT HOE, READY MY CHARIOT! I shall not be leaving it behind as previously discussed.”

“Yes, Sir Pimpington.” His two henchwomen say before affixing themselves to the giant golden phallus once more.

“I’m gonna fucking KILL him, I swear to-” Sam angrily pulls herself up off the ground but I grab her by the shoulder and stop her from doing anything further.

I lock eyes with the pimp. “You would have better luck here if you learned to respect women, you wretched cur.”

“Bitch what in the FUCK is a cur? Who the fuck even says that you stiff-ass back alley butler lookin’ mothafucka?! And as for the rest of yo’ statement? LIES! SLANDER! BITCHES, TELL THIS MAN HOW MUCH I RESPECT WOMEN, YOU USELESS SLUTS!”

All of his strippers, the ghetto Elf who carried the trumpet and his two chariot pullers all bow like mindless dogs and respond in unison with one solidified, practiced voice, “NO ONE RESPECTS WOMEN MORE THAN YOU, MY LORD!”

The villainous pimp breaths in a breath of fresh air, “MMMM, MMMMM! THANK YOU, BITCHES! How could anyone possibly believe such ridiculous lies about me when the proof comes straight from the bitches mouth?” 

I sigh deeply, and it happens. For the first time in my life dealing with a stupid Dewhurstian gives me an honest to Goddess migraine sending searing pain through my head from having to listen to this moronic pimple on the ass of Karnalle. “Just fucking go already good fucking Gods.” I say while rubbing my temples.

‘Poor Sir. Can’t stand looking at himself in the mirror.’ Zutiria says while rubbing my back. I give the Mage a rare bop on the head as if she were Sam.

Her black beret falls onto the ground and she holds her head in response. ‘Ow. Maybe you could learn a thing or two about respecting the Bitches from him, Sir. He does not seem to hit the Bitches.’

Meri walks back to be with us since it’s clear the standoff isn’t going to happen. She looks naive and confused as all hell, unable to even say anything in response to this bizarre scenario.

Sir Pimpington leaps into the air with... surprising grace and lands inside the chariot’s hollowed out shaft. An ordinary person can’t jump like that- I thought for sure he was just a regular pimp but he almost leaped as high as Sam can. Then, he pulls out a sword from his pimp cane and points it off into the horizon. “ONWARD, HOES! ALSO ONE OF Y’ALL STRIPPER BITCHES NEEDS TO GET UP HERE, PREFERABLY ONE OF YOU ORCS WITH THEM BIG GREEN TIDDIES! I REQUIRE AN EXTREMELY PUBLIC BLOWJOB AS WE RIDE THROUGH THE TOWN BACK TO THE PIMPFORT! HUP-HUP!”

He takes the reins and spurs on Left Hoe and Right How while his myriad of strippers begin to chase after his chariot in attempt to give him his requested pleasurings.

For some reason the only thing I can think of as he leaves is that Opalina is right.

I really don’t leave the house enough if I’ve never fucking heard of the local pimp that drives around on a giant golden dick while getting public Orc blowjobs...