Lucas Vanquisher of the Bottle and the Brawl at the Chronomancer’s Riviera
In the heart of the Chronomancer’s Riviera, a sun-kissed paradise where every day felt like an eternal summer, stood a notorious tavern where magic flowed as freely as the drinks. The Riviera, known for its endless revelry and youthful vigor, was a place where time bent to the will of the Yellow Hat Wizards, its guardians and masters of time manipulation. Here, the nights were legendary, filled with lights, music, and the kind of wild excess that only the Riviera could offer.
And then there was Lucas, the Vanquisher of the Bottle.
Lucas was a man of considerable repute—or perhaps, more accurately, disrepute—known throughout the Riviera for his unparalleled ability to vanquish bottles of any drink in his path. Tall, burly, and with a nose that had seen more than its fair share of tavern brawls, Lucas was a legend not for his magic or his might, but for his unquenchable thirst and his uncanny ability to drink anyone under the table.
On this particular evening, Lucas was deep into his fifth or perhaps seventh round of Chronomancer's Delight, a cocktail so potent it was said to briefly stop time for anyone who drank it. For Lucas, it merely made the world spin in a delightfully slow motion.
"Another!" Lucas roared, slamming his empty mug onto the bar. The bartender, a grizzled dwarf who had seen more than a few nights like this, gave him a weary look.
"Lucas, you're gonna end up as a statue in the fountain if you keep this up," the dwarf muttered as he poured another round.
"Statue? Hah!" Lucas laughed, waving him off. "I'll end up a statue when statues learn to dance!"
The other patrons chuckled and rolled their eyes. This was typical Lucas—loud, brash, and utterly convinced of his own indestructibility. But as the night wore on and the music grew louder, tensions began to bubble up in the tavern. A group of Yellow Hat Wizards at a nearby table had been casting increasingly annoyed glances at Lucas, clearly unimpressed with his boisterous behavior.
Finally, one of them, a tall, lean wizard with a particularly gaudy yellow hat, had enough. He stood up, his face twisted into a sneer, and swaggered over to where Lucas was perched, swaying slightly as he nursed his drink.
"Hey, you oaf!" the wizard snarled, jabbing Lucas in the chest with a bony finger. "You think you can just drink and shout like you own the place? Some of us are trying to enjoy the night without your drunken antics!"
Lucas blinked slowly, as if trying to focus on the wizard’s face. After a moment, a lazy grin spread across his face. "Well, well, if it isn't the Head of Yellow Hat Brigade. What’s the matter, hat too tight?"
The other wizards at the table snickered, but their leader was not amused. With a growl, he flicked his wrist, and suddenly, a spark of yellow energy crackled between his fingers, aiming for Lucas’s chest.
Or at least, it would have, if Lucas hadn’t chosen that exact moment to hiccup and stumble backward, causing the spell to miss him entirely and hit the bar instead. The wood sizzled and smoked, sending the bartender into a fit of colorful curses.
"Oi! You lot better pay for that!" the dwarf barked, his fists clenched in frustration.
But the fight was on. The wizard, now furious, launched himself at Lucas, his hands crackling with temporal energy. Lucas, for his part, responded by picking up his half-full mug and hurling it at the wizard’s head. It missed by a wide margin, smashing into the wall instead, but that didn’t stop Lucas from charging forward with all the reckless confidence of a man who believed he could win any fight—despite being completely and utterly drunk.
The tavern erupted into chaos. Wizards flung spells, warriors drew their weapons, and the more sensible patrons dove for cover. Lucas, however, seemed impervious to the mayhem around him. He ducked under a time-warping spell, tripped over a toppled chair, and accidentally headbutted a rather large and disgruntled goblin who had been trying to mind his own business.
"Sorry, mate!" Lucas slurred, patting the goblin on the back with such force that the poor creature went flying into a table, scattering drinks and food everywhere.
By now, the Yellow Hat Wizards had regrouped, determined to put an end to Lucas’s drunken rampage. They surrounded him, their hats glowing with arcane energy as they prepared to unleash a powerful temporal spell that would freeze Lucas in time, or so they thought.
But Lucas, in his drunken stupor, had other ideas. As the wizards raised their hands to cast the spell, Lucas let out an earth-shaking belch—a belch so loud and so powerful that it sent a shockwave through the tavern. The wizards, caught off guard, stumbled backward, their concentration shattered. The spell fizzled out before it could fully form, leaving them dazed and disoriented.
Seeing his chance, Lucas staggered forward—this time, with his arms outstretched like a bear ready to hug. He managed to grab two of the wizards by their robes and, in a move that defied both logic and physics, spun them around before tossing them into the nearest wall, where they crumpled into a heap.
The remaining wizards, now thoroughly unnerved by the drunken chaos before them, decided that perhaps this fight wasn’t worth it. With one last glare, they muttered a few choice words and quickly made their exit, leaving Lucas swaying triumphantly in the middle of the ruined tavern.
The bartender, who had been hiding behind the bar, cautiously peeked over the edge. "Is it... is it over?"
Lucas, grinning like a fool, slapped a few coins onto the counter. "Another round for everyone!" he declared, much to the groans of the few remaining patrons who had just managed to crawl out from under tables and chairs.
"Lucas, you madman," the bartender grumbled as he started pouring drinks again. "You’ve wrecked the place, but at least you paid for it this time."
Lucas just laughed, clapping the dwarf on the shoulder. "Ah, don’t worry, my friend! It’s just another night in the Riviera!"
And so, the night continued, with Lucas, Vanquisher of the Bottle, holding court at the bar, regaling anyone who would listen with slurred tales of his heroic exploits. The Yellow Hat Wizards would think twice before challenging him again, and the legend of Lucas—completely drunk, entirely reckless, and utterly unstoppable—would continue to grow in the annals of the Forgotten Runiverse.
Entered by: 0x9606…F9AC and preserved on chain (see transaction)
