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Bank to Hit

By [Ankama]DOFUS - ADMIN - June 19, 2019, 16:00:00
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Legends… In the World of Twelve, there are as many of them as there are Fleeflees on a Trool's head. But legends of music, they're not so common! Today, to get you ready for the Gobbstock Festival on Junssidor 21, we're going to tell you about the origins of "Bwork'n'Roll" in the Krosmoz!

The Trool was staring at these strange symbols: "A", "B", "C", "D"… and it went on for lines and lines. They meant nothing to him, except perhaps for:

"… notes o' music?" he mumbled.

"No, Ange, but nice try!" replied his big sister, Loretta. "They're letters! And all these letters, they form the alphabet. They can form words, then sentences, then a whole load of chat…"

The group remained perplexed. Loretta Yangue, a silky-haired, full-bodied Trool, had become a teacher for her brothers and their music band in their rehearsal room. She'd told them that if they really wanted to expand into the World of Twelve, they had to be able to tell people they were performing in all the best taverns. To do so, they were going to have to make posters, sign contracts… in short, reading and writing.

Her little brother, Ange, was putting his heart into it. He'd even dressed up in school clothes to attend his first class! He was like that, Ange – always deeply involved in what he was doing. Besides, Loretta had had a cold sweat when he confided in her that he wanted to step into a schoolboy's skin… Fortunately, he didn't apply it to the letter this time, even though no one had any idea where or how he got those clothes…

On the other hand, the others made fun of Loretta's lesson: Rude the goblin, the drummer of the band, seemed to be swallowing the flies attracted by the smell of bassist Wiff Rilliam, a stinky Bwork, but who had impeccable blond hair. Brayar Jonsonne, the singer with a voice so powerful and shrill that he had already destroyed his mother's, aunt's and darling granny's eardrums, was sharpening his canines with a file. As for the older brother of Ange and Loretta, Clamol Yangue, he was contemplating what he had just come out of his nose with a goofy grin.

"Hey, guuuuuys! Give it some of your…" Loretta asked.

"When d'we play?" asked Rude. "I wanna hit!"
"When Miss Loretta decides to let go of our scratch…" said Riff.
"We're Bworks and Trools, honey! We don't need to know about your doodles!" Brayar argued.
"… and a goblin…" said Rude.
"I already told you, you numpties! It'll mean you won't be fooled and made to pay when you play, but it'll also let you write songs and display the name of your band all nice and big…"
"What name?" wondered Brayar.
"You DO have a name, don't you?"
"I can't believe it! How are people going to go to your concerts if you don't have a name?"
"Well, they'll hear us blaring! You really know nothing about music…"
"That's how it always worked," confirmed Wiff.
"Always, " added Rude.
"We never wrote a song – we just grunt and it doesn't bother anyone in the audience. Quite the opposite – they grunt with us…"
"Because they're Trools and Bworks too!" Loretta answered.
"And goblins…" added Rude.
"Ange, help me…" his sister pleaded with him.

The Trool was the youngest of the band, but his view was important. On the one hand because he was the solo guitarist, on the other hand because he was also the person who founded the band. He stood up in his school clothes and spoke solemnly.

Ange explained to them that he didn't want people to like them just because they were the only band in the village, but because they had talent. Because they were the best! He wanted to become famous throughout the World of Twelve – as famous as Jon Lemon!

The others nodded. Who doesn't secretly dream of being Jon Lemon?


The months passed. The band learned to read with Loretta every morning of the week and they played their music every afternoon.

One day, Brayar waited until the others had left the class to talk to Loretta. He shyly handed her a folded piece of paper. The silky-haired Trool opened it. It said:

Bank to Hit, by Brayar Jonsonne

Bank to hit!

Now ain't the time to quit

Not gonna be any old bandit

Grab your rags

There in your bag

Get out and go grab some swag

Climb on your Dragoturkey, it's all ready

But it's no time to brag

It's old and ain't that steady

It's gonna hurt

Just don't hit the dirt

Your ride's going down in writ

Cos today the bank's gonna get hit

Yeah, gonna hit

Yeah, yeah, gonna hit

Tellin' ya, the bank's gonna get hit

Ha! Ha!

(Backing vocals)

Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!

(Backing vocals)

Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!

Bank to hit!

Yeah, the bank's gonna get hit!

Loretta had never seen him like that. Usually so sure of himself, the Bwork looked at his feet while waiting for her verdict.

"That rocks, Brayar! And… you didn't make a single mistake!"

Embarrassed, he smiled while scratching his head, showing a row of shiny teeth with two sharp canines protruding.

"Anyway… Did you come up with a band name?"

"It's gonna be AB/CD."

Ange Yangue had just entered the room, closely followed by his pals. Loretta seemed… cautious.

"It has to represent us, right? Well, I think we're the only Trools and Bworks to have learned how to read…"

"And the only Goblin!" added Rude.
"Besides…" the guitarist continued, "that's how the story began."


See you in Amakna at [4,6] for AB/CD's concert!
Well done to everyone who valiantly fought and gathered the much needed pollenectars!  <3


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