The Scumbag Who Only Wants to Have Fun But Doesn't Want to Take Responsibility
The Accidental Rise
The air in the Rusty Flagon was thick with the smell of stale beer and desperation. Jaxx, leaning back precariously on a wobbly stool, grinned as the dice tumbled across the worn wooden table. He’d already won enough for a few more rounds of the local rotgut and maybe even a… well, another round of rotgut. "Snake eyes!" the burly, tattooed man across from him roared, slamming his fist on the table.
"Unlucky, friend," Jaxx said with a sympathetic shrug, scooping up his winnings. He genuinely felt a pang of something resembling pity, quickly overshadowed by the thrill of victory. He wasn't cheating, not intentionally anyway. He just had a knack for this sort of thing. Always had. It was probably just good karma, he’d often mused, conveniently forgetting all the questionable things he’d done to earn it.
His current winning streak, however, was about to run its course, as was his welcome in this particular town. A few too many debts, a few too many broken hearts (mostly accidental, he swore), and the glares were starting to outweigh the smiles. Time to move on.
He’d heard whispers in the Flagon of an ancient ruin, a supposed dragon's lair, just beyond the Whispering Woods. Dragons, Jaxx figured, probably had treasure. And treasure meant more fun. An inexplicable feeling of ‘lucky’ bubbled up within him as he considered it. It wasn't a thought, more of a gut feeling, a warm certainty that things would go his way.
The ruin was exactly as foreboding as the rumors suggested, choked with thorny vines and littered with the bones of unfortunate adventurers. Jaxx, whistling a jaunty tune, ambled through the entrance. Elaborate traps – pressure plates, swinging blades, and suspiciously loose-looking rocks – seemed to trigger just moments after he’d passed, or malfunctioned entirely as he approached.
He tripped over a root, only to land perfectly behind a crumbling pillar just as a volley of arrows whizzed past. He even managed to accidentally knock a nest of venomous spiders onto a particularly nasty-looking pit viper. It was less a deliberate navigation and more a chaotic stumble through danger, yet he emerged unscathed every time.
Deep within the lair, amidst the dust and the echoes of forgotten roars, he found it. Not a mountain of gold, but a simple, intricately carved amulet made of a dark, smooth stone. As he picked it up, it pulsed with a faint warmth against his palm.
Emerging from the ruin, blinking in the sunlight, Jaxx found himself surrounded. Not by angry villagers or vengeful creditors, but by a ragtag group of people, their faces gaunt and their clothes tattered. They looked at the amulet in his hand with a mixture of awe and desperate hope.
"The Stone of Unity!" an old woman exclaimed, her voice trembling. "The prophecy is true! The one who bears it will lead us against Vorlag!"
Jaxx blinked. Vorlag? Prophecy? He just wanted some shiny trinkets. "Look, folks," he began, holding up his hands. "There's been a misunderstanding. I'm not exactly the leadership type. In fact, I actively avoid it. My skills lie more in -- well, in not dying in dragon lairs, apparently."
But the tribe was beyond reasoning. They were starving, their homes ravaged by the tyrannical warlord General Vorlag, and they saw the amulet as a sign. As they pleaded with him, a messenger arrived, breathless and panicked. "Vorlag's men -- they were ambushed in the Serpent Pass! A rockslide, and all his siege weapons are destroyed!"
The tribe gasped, looking at Jaxx with renewed fervor. He, meanwhile, felt a strange tingling sensation emanating from the amulet. Could it be… luck? His luck? Amplified somehow?
He still tried to refuse. He listed his many flaws: his laziness, his lack of strategic thinking, his crippling addiction to anything that promised immediate pleasure. But then, a young boy ran up, beaming. "We found it, Elder Maeve! The spring! Just where you said the prophecy foretold!" And then, another villager arrived, his arms overflowing with plump, ripe berries. "And the harvest! It's the best we've had in years!"
Jaxx stared at the sudden bounty. A hidden spring? A miraculously good harvest? It was too much to be a coincidence. The amulet pulsed again. His stomach rumbled. Free food and a ready-made following? Maybe this leadership thing wouldn't be so bad after all. Especially if it came with perks. With a sigh of resignation that sounded suspiciously like excitement, Jaxx accepted the amulet and the mantle of reluctant leader.
The Reign of Fun (and Chaos)
Jaxx's leadership began with a week-long festival: feasts, gambling, and general merriment. Every Friday became "Fun Day." Lyra, his capable second-in-command, secretly loved him but was exasperated by his irresponsibility. She handled governance while Jaxx judged drunken limbo contests.
"Jaxx," she’d say, frustrated, "we need a strategy. Vorlag will return."
"Relax, Lyra," he’d reply, accepting ale, "my luck will see us through."
And for a while, it did. Enemy supply wagons overturned, messengers got lost. But Lyra’s fears materialized. Vorlag launched a full assault. Jaxx wanted to flee, but Lyra and the tribe, surprisingly loyal, stood their ground.
Caught in the battle, Jaxx tried to escape and stumbled into a hidden passage leading behind enemy lines. He found Vorlag about to execute a warrior. In an act of self-preservation, Jaxx yelled insults and threw rotten fruit, creating a diversion. The warrior escaped. In the ensuing chaos, a series of lucky events, orchestrated by his Serendipity Surge, led to Vorlag tripping and falling into a deep ravine, never to be seen again. The enemy scattered. Jaxx was a hero once more.
The Consequences of Apathy
Victory celebrations were lavish, emptying the treasury. Lyra’s worry grew. "Jaxx, winter is coming. We need to rebuild. Neighbors are watching."
"Lighten up," he’d say, "we're heroes!"
But infrastructure crumbled, harvests dwindled, and neighboring tribes grew bolder. Discontent simmered. Lyra’s patience broke. "I can't do this anymore, Jaxx. I'm leaving."
Her words affected him. He liked Lyra. Before he could respond, an emissary offered him an alliance with a powerful kingdom: wealth and power in exchange for his leadership and the tribe's resources. Jaxx was tempted, but the thought of responsibility overwhelmed him.
He looked at the tribe, then at Lyra. His "luck" had masked his incompetence. He couldn't be the leader they needed.
That night, he packed. He left the amulet on Lyra's doorstep and a note in her tent:
Lyra,
You were right. I'm not cut out for this. Fun is great, but someone needs to run things. You're smart, strong, and you care. The amulet seems to like you. Take care of them.
Sorry for all the chaos.
Jaxx
He slipped away, freedom washing over him.
***
Years later, Jaxx was in a bustling port city, unkempt, unhealthy, hopeless but happy. He’d just won a surprisingly large sum in a dice game (beginner's luck, he'd told the disgruntled losers, conveniently forgetting his "Serendipity Surge"). He overheard a group of sailors talking about a thriving tribe in the southern lands, led by a wise and just woman named Lyra. They spoke of prosperity, strong defenses, and a legendary victory against a northern kingdom. Jaxx felt a pang of something akin to pride, quickly followed by a shrug and a grin. He’d always known Lyra had it in her.
As he strolled down a dimly lit alley, whistling a jaunty tune, he tripped over a particularly large pile of something unpleasant. He cursed under his breath, then noticed a discarded lottery ticket sticking out of the muck. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled it free. It was a winner.
Jaxx laughed, shaking his head. Some things, it seemed, never changed. He tucked the ticket into his pocket and continued on his merry way, convinced his lucky streak would see him through, no matter how much of a scumbag he might be.
