Chapter 01: Poppycock!
Welcome to Majeska, a realm where the unexpected is not just a possibility, but a way of life. In this vibrant world, Humans thrive, basking in the joys of their existence, building cities, and living out their dreams. Yet, they are not alone. Among them dwell the Fables—fantastical beings who share in the wonders and thrills this world has to offer.
But harmony is a fragile thing. Behind the façade of coexistence lies a deep-seated fear and disdain. The Humans, convinced of their superiority, look down upon the Fables, viewing them as abominations to be caged, enslaved, or worse. The Fables have long sought peace and equality, but as their patience wanes, the atmosphere grows increasingly tense.
It was during this charged time that a singular figure emerged—a fierce adventurer who would rally the Fables to rise against their oppressors. Armed with a flag that symbolized hope and unity, this brave soul ignited a spark of resistance among the marginalized. With fervor and determination, they called upon the Fables to stand together, to fight for their freedom and rights.
What followed became known as the Determined War. The clash between Humans and Fables was brutal and relentless, leaving a scar on the landscape of Majeska. Countless lives were lost, and entire civilizations were reduced to ruins. In the end, the tragic toll was staggering; 70% of the Fable race was eradicated in the struggle for liberation.
The adventurer fought valiantly to the bitter end, maintaining a resolve that inspired many, yet neither victory nor defeat was claimed in that final battle. As if the world itself held its breath, the adventurer vanished, leaving behind a haunting silence. In the aftermath, a strange calm washed over the realm. Though Humans and Fables grew ever more distant, a quiet sympathy began to bloom, as hands once clenched in fear now reached out in tentative understanding.
And then, from the ashes of the Determined War, a new and unique race emerged. Born Humans but with the blood of a Fable. These beings, possessing otherworldly abilities, defied the rigid classifications of their predecessors. They were neither fully Human nor entirely Fable; they were Goblins.
With their arrival, the world of Majeska stood on the precipice of change. In this land of magic and adventure, the unexpected was once again on the horizon.
"Get your filthy hands off that!" roared a voice reverberating through the narrow street.
In the heart of the serene town of Dusk, where twilight kissed the horizon and mountains stood as silent sentinels, an unusual calmness often blanketed the community. The sun's descent behind the peaks bathed the sky in a warm, orange hue, casting a mesmerizing glow over the town. The singular path that meandered through Dusk Town, connecting the North and South entrances, was the lifeline of the settlement—a simple route that added to its tranquil charm.
The townsfolk cherished their peaceful abode, where solace and inspiration came as naturally as the whisper of the evening breeze. But on this day, the town's serenity was threatened by a group of notorious marauders—the Polished Metal Bandits.
"Damn you!" cursed another, his voice filled with malice.
A seventeen-year-old boy by the name of Kazz stood boldly before the bandits. With his striking orange eyes, dark skin, his shoulder-length dark cherry-colored dreadlocks swaying gently as he moved, he was a unique sight to witness. Dressed in black baggy pants adorned with gold D-rings, pockets, and zippers, and a black shirt with a white crescent moon on the front under an open purple hooded jacket, he cut a dashing figure. His beige and white sneakers and a purple bucket hat with a yellow crescent moon pin completed his unique ensemble.
"Yea! Ha! Ha! Looks like an exciting day for you thieves," he called out, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and challenge.
The bandits, notorious for their polished weapons and ruthless tactics, turned their attention to the audacious youth.
"You punk! Who the hell are you?!" demanded one, his eyes narrowing.
"Me? Still thinking on the introduction," Kazz replied with a nonchalant shrug.
"Get lost, kid!" barked another, brandishing a gleaming blade.
Kazz's eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. "I would love to, but you look like you're all up to no good."
"And what are you gonna do about it?" sneered a third bandit, stepping forward with menace.
Kazz's grin widened. "Ah, neat!"
The bandits advanced, ready to teach the interloper a painful lesson. But what followed was an unexpected whirlwind of skill and agility. Kazz moved with the grace of a dancer and the precision of an experienced fighter. The bandits' laughter quickly turned to cries of agony as Kazz's delivered blows left them reeling.
In a matter of moments, the once-feared Polished Metal Bandits found themselves piled atop one another, groaning in pain and disbelief.
"We won't…forget this..." wheezed one bandit, clutching his bruised ribs.
Kazz adjusted his bucket hat and gave a playful wave. "Yea! Ha! Ha! You should find a better career. Peace!"
With that, the young boy turned and walked away, leaving the bandits to nurse their wounds and the townsfolk to marvel at their unexpected hero.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across Dusk Town, Kazz strolled through the winding streets with a sense of accomplishment. His earlier encounter with the bandits had left him invigorated, and now he sought the lively atmosphere of the town's most renowned establishment—the Poppycock.
The Poppycock stood proudly at the heart of the bustling town; its doors always open to welcome those seeking a reprieve from their daily lives. The pub's warm lighting spilled out onto the street, inviting passersby to step inside and join the revelry within. As one enters the Poppycock, a cacophony of laughter, singing, and the clinking of glasses greets you. The wooden furnishings and colorful artwork adorning the walls added to the pub's charm, creating an ambiance that was both cozy and vibrant.
At the far end of the entrance, the centerpiece of the establishment—the bar—stood proudly. Behind the counter was Felix, the burly bartender and owner of this fine establishment. With his bald head, singular visible brown eye, and a scar running over his right, Felix's appearance was as distinctive as his reputation. Despite his tough exterior, he was known for his warmth and fatherly demeanor, always ready with a kind word or a stern reminder.
"You lot better pay your tab before you skip on outta here!" Felix's voice boomed over the din.
A drunk patron, swaying on his feet, raised his glass in acknowledgment. "You got it, Felix! Just send some more drinks our way!"
Felix's hands moved with practiced ease, mixing drinks, and serving up a wide array of beverages to cater to the diverse tastes of his patrons. The selection ranged from classic cocktails to local brews, ensuring there was something for everyone.
However, not everyone in the pub was there for an enjoyable time. A group of the Polished Metal Bandits were causing a scene.
"Hey, barkeep! How about another round on the house?!" one of the bandits demanded.
Felix's eyes narrowed as he continued to mix drinks. "You drank most of my good stock. I don't have enough to serve you lot and my regulars."
The bandits, dressed in their characteristic ragtag outfits adorned with polished metal accents, grumbled, and exchanged glances.
"If you want more, you'll have to wait for the next stock to arrive," Felix stated firmly.
"And when will it get here?" another bandit asked, his voice tinged with impatience.
Felix smiled, a hint of defiance in his eyes. "It won't be here until you scumbags pay your tab. Can't order any more if I don't have the money."
The bandits bristled at the insult, their tempers flaring. "What was that?! Hey boss! He insulted us!" one of them shouted, turning to their leader, Notch Steele.
He kicked his feet up and took a leisurely sip of his drink. He is a striking figure with a meticulously groomed brown posh hairstyle, a white and green outfit of nobility, and a white scarf fluttering around his neck. His piercing brown eyes glint with amusement and cunning, always alert. Though scrawny, Notch is a veteran bandit with extensive combat experience. Each scar on his lean frame tells a story of survival and mastery in the art of banditry. Notch embodies a fascinating paradox: a refined exterior masking a life of grit and danger, confident in his ability to outsmart and outfight anyone.
"Now, now, gentlemen. Calm yourselves," Notch said, his voice smooth and controlled.
"But he basically insulted us, boss! We can't allow him to disrespect us like that!" another bandit protested.
"And he'll get his due. But let me finish my drink," Notch replied, chugging down the last of his barrel of wine. The rest of his men chuckled, knowing what their leader was capable of.
"Barkeep, are you certain you're not hiding the good stuff anywhere?" Notch inquired, a dangerous edge to his tone.
Felix sighed and continued cleaning his glasses. "I'm not hiding anything. Now shove off."
"There he goes again!" another bandit growled.
"Let us kill him, boss. We can always find another joint," another suggested, his eyes gleaming with malice.
Notch finished his barrel of wine with a flourish, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "If there truly isn't anything left here to drink, we have no choice. We'll just have to raid the town."
Felix, unfazed, shot back, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Notch's eyes sparkled with menace. "Oh, I would! Or have you forgotten who I am?"
Before tensions could escalate further, a voice chimed in from the far end of the bar. "Nice to see everyone having a good time."
Felix noticed Kazz sitting there, swinging his feet nonchalantly. His attention momentarily shifted from the bandits to this unexpected guest. "Kids aren't allowed in here," he stated gruffly.
Kazz grinned. "Not a problem if I don't drink though, right?"
Felix chuckled despite himself. "Right... What will it be?"
"Got any tea?" Kazz asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Coming right up," Felix replied, shaking his head as he started preparing the drink.
"Neat!" Kazz exclaimed, leaning back to watch the scene unfold.
Meanwhile, the bandits were growing increasingly irritated. "Who the hell is that kid? Does he not know the age limit?" one of them grumbled.
"Not only that, but we're also being ignored," another added, glaring at Kazz, who turned his gaze towards the lively patrons.
They were partying like there was no tomorrow. Felix, busy preparing the drink, decided to engage the young guest in conversation. "Never seen your ugly mug before. Not from around here, are you?" he asked.
"Nope. Just passing through. Heard this town was full of unique people," he replied, his eyes lingering on a framed photo behind the bar. It depicted a much younger Felix and a mysterious woman standing in front of the pub, both laughing.
"And what do you think so far?" Felix inquired, genuinely curious.
Kazz shrugged. "Could be more exciting if you ask me."
Felix laughed heartily. "Poppycock! This is the best town in all the kingdoms! Isn't that right, boys?!"
The patrons erupted in cheers and laughter, raising their mugs in agreement.
Kazz chuckled. "I'll take your word for it."
Felix nodded. "Everyone here is unique in their own right. You could learn a thing or two. Here, try this." He handed his young guest a cup of his fine brew.
Kazz took a sip, savoring the warm, sweet sensation that coursed through his body. "What is this elixir?"
A drunk patron nearby chimed in, "That's Felix's famous brew. Honey Poppy Tea. Cures any and all foul deeds from body and soul."
Kazz's eyes widened in appreciation. "It's delicious... Almost as delicious as-"
"Hey now! Watch yourself, kid," Felix interrupted with a playful glare. "My brew is the best there is. Ain't nothing better."
The pub erupted in laughter at Felix's proud declaration, everyone agreeing wholeheartedly. Felix returned to his glassware, a satisfied smile on his face, as Kazz continued to enjoy his tea.
"It's really good, like she said," he murmured.
Felix's ears perked up. "What was that?"
"Nothing, just impressed," Kazz quickly covered.
Felix smiled warmly. "Well, just sit there and enjoy yourself, kid. I'll look after you."
Kazz straightened up, a hint of defiance in his eyes. "I don't need your protection. An adventurer can take care of himself, thank you."
Felix raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "What did you just say?"
The pub came to a sudden halt, a collective gasp filling the room as all eyes turned to the young boy. Before he could repeat himself, a chorus of laughter from the bandits' table broke the silence. Fingers pointed, and mocking jeers echoed off the wooden walls.
"Who the hell does this kid think he is?!" a bandit scoffed.
"He has a wild spirit!" another chuckled.
"Get back to sipping your tea, kid!" a drunken voice bellowed.
"He's a joke! Look at him. He isn't cut out to see the world!" the last sneered.
Kazz calmly took another sip of his tea and then raised his hand, shushing them. "Can you guys keep it down? I'm trying to enjoy my tea."
The bandits' faces turned red with anger. "What did you say?!" one growled.
"I don't know who you think you are, but you're in for a world of hurt, punk!" another threatened.
"And why's he only singling us out?" one of the bandits muttered.
Notch, still lounging with a smug grin, interjected, "Boys, boys! Calm down. Behave. He is but a child trying to act like an adult. Might be hitting puberty."
Suddenly, a chair flew across the room striking Notch square in the head and sending him sprawling.
Everyone turned their attention to Kazz, who was calmly sipping his tea. As he took another sip, he felt the weight of their gazes upon him.
With a mischievous grin breaking across his face, he looked up at the bandits and shrugged nonchalantly. "My hand slipped," he declared, his voice light and playful.
The room erupted in laughter, the patrons praising Kazz's audacity.
"This kid's a riot!" a drunk patron guffawed.
"Where'd you find this one, Felix?" a burly man with a beer belly laughed.
Felix, however, was less amused. Setting down a glass, he reached for the steel green polished bat behind the bar, his grip tightening on the black leather handle. "Kid, do you have any idea what you just did?"
Kazz remained unfazed. "He should have kept his mouth shut."
"And YOU should have behaved," Felix shot back, his irritation clear.
Felix, clutching his bat, sighed, "And I was almost done cleaning."
"LET'S GO!!!" an impatient patron shouted.
The pub erupted into chaos. Tables flipped, chairs knocked over, and fists flew. Kazz watched in confusion as patrons laughed and fought one another.
"WHAT'S GOING ON?!?" Kazz yelled.
"The Dusky Brawl..." Felix explained. "Whenever a chair is thrown, the entire household is given permission to start a brawl. It's been a tradition since the grand opening of the Poppycock, and I'm the reigning champ," Felix claimed, knocking patrons away with his bat.
With his eyes filled with excitement, Kazz declared. "I take back what I said! This place is awesome!"
"We know how to bring the fun to the extreme," Felix grinned.
"Hellz yeah! Let me get in on this!" Kazz joined the fray.
"That's the spirit, kid! You'll fit in fine here," Felix chuckled.
In the chaos, the bandits huddled around their unconscious leader.
"Boss, wake up!" a bandit urged.
"What's with this town?! Everyone here is crazy!" one exclaimed.
"And what's with that kid? He's insane! Who throws chairs at people?!" another bandit exclaimed.
Notch groaned as he sat up, rubbing the bump on his head. "What happened to me?"
"That kid threw a chair at you, boss," one of his men explained.
"WHAT?!?" Notch roared, his eyes narrowing as he focused on Kazz who continued sipping his tea while arm strangling a patron.
"What should we do? He made you look like a fool!" one of the bandits prodded.
"How dare he..." Notch seethed, his anger boiling over.
Suddenly, the pub doors swung open, and a severely wounded bandit stumbled inside, collapsing at Notch's feet.
"And what the hell happened to you?!" Notch demanded, his voice a mix of shock and fury.
"Boss...please forgive...me," the bandit gasped, blood trickling from his wounds.
"What's the meaning of this?! Weren't you supposed to be guarding the town entrance?" Notch barked.
"We couldn't stop him... He took us out before we could..." the bandit wheezed.
"Who?! Who did this?!" Notch shouted, his frustration mounting.
"Keep the tea coming!" Kazz casually raised his cup.
The wounded bandit looked up, his eyes widening in recognition. "Th-That's him! That's the guy right there!"
Notch and the other bandits turned their gaze to Kazz, who was blowing the steam off his tea.
"WHAT?!?" Notch exploded.
"That kid beat you guys up?!" one of the bandits exclaimed in disbelief.
"What the hell are you all standing around for?! Kill him at once!" Notch ordered, his voice trembling with rage.
The bandits scrambled to grab their weapons. Felix, noticing the escalation, was about to step in when he saw Kazz rising from his seat.
"Kid?" Felix called, concern evident in his tone.
"No worries. I got this," Kazz replied, his voice calm and confident.
"Leave this to me, boss! I'll teach this runt a lesson he'll never forget," one of the bandits declared, brandishing a sword.
He leapt into the air; sword raised high, ready to strike. But Kazz moved with lightning speed, delivering a powerful right hook that sent the bandit crashing to the floor. The room fell silent in shock.
"WHAT?!?" Notch shouted, his disbelief turning to fury.
Kazz grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Yea! Ha! Ha!"
Felix, stunned by the display, asked, "Kid... Who in the hell are you?"
Kazz turned to face the Polished Metal Bandits, his smile widening. "Oh, that's right. I never introduced myself, huh?"
Drawing himself up to his full height, Kazz declared, "The name's Loot Kazzili'oh! I'm the adventurer that's going to give the world a festival of surprises!"