Chapter four: Brawling with a giant…not a good idea.


The streets of Shailo were alive, thriving with people and creatures that Axel had either read about or had never heard of. He could barely contain himself as he gazed in awe at all the people and beings of different races and ethnicities. Snow saw the look on our hero's scruffy/bruised face and she smiled. From where he comes from, Massa-whatits or something like that, there must not be blue skinned kobolds bargaining with bearded dwarves over tools. There must not be Homunculus Hunters clothed in black and walking the ally ways with their blackened, wide brimmed fedoras with V.O.R.P.A.L. (Vicious Orthodox Reaping Pseudo Alchemic Life-forms) Blades. Whatever port town or state Axel said he was from it was nothing like Shailo, which was not a port town, but a merchant hide-away.
People from near and far came here because of that. It was like going to New York's China Town where you can get anything…for the right price that is, but back to the story. Everywhere Axel turned his head saw buildings from what he could tell represented the different cultures in Engala. Music also filled the air apart from the cries of salesmen. From sitars, guitars, pan pipes, ocarinas, pianos, every instrument under golden sun could be heard, either playing folksy songs or what seemed to be a form of rock music. These noises littered the air as Axel and Snow walked down the stone covered streets. A teashop representing a small Japanese-esque palace was to his far left and to his far right Axel saw an Irish-esque pub. Mismatching ethnicities collided here in the city of Shailo making it bizarre and beautiful at the same time. As his eyes wandered, Axel's feet blindly on the cobble stoned paths. He then bumped into what seemed to him a massive blue colored wall…that is until the wall began to speak in a deep, gruff voice.
"Hey," grunted a harsh voice.

Axel lifted his head up to see that the blue wall he walked into was not a wall. It was a tall and broad man wearing a blue, sleeveless shirt, oil black pants and to match black leather boots. The man's chest bulged with muscle, as did his whole torso. It was like a rock, which could confuse anyone who blindly bumped into it. His forearms were hairy and resembled pythons, his head was shaved bald, but his hardened face bore a large rusty mustache. Tall though was an understatement (sorry for lying) he was gargantuan compared to Axel, who was only 5'2 and weighed 120 pounds. This beastial man looked like he could be at least 6'5 and weighing about 245 pounds! He could probably grind Axel's bones to make his bread with one of his large hands. The man reached with one of his massive paws and lifted Axel into the air, drilling Axel with an annoyed, drunken glare from his steely gray eyes.

"Watch where yer goin' kid." He said in his gravely tone. A pungent smell wafted to Axel's nose, "Booze or something on the lines of that." He said in his mind. Axel scrunched up his face at the smell of the hard liquor.

"I'm sorry, I didn' mean any trouble." Axle said his voice an octave higher than it usually was.

"I d-don't care ifff ya didn' mean for trouble," he hicked, "Ya got in my way and now yer'll pay." He said as words came out slurred. Axel had no time to think, the hand that held him by his shirt launched him straight into the air, while some of the people wandering the streets saw the brawl. " Oh my god! I'm gonna die!" He screamed in his head.

Axel was quickly reaching the earth, the brawler's meaty arm drawn back ready to deliver his blow. He closed his eyes and covered his face with his arms, waiting for the impact. Axel knew that blocking his face would do him no good. His glasses would break and he would be even more bloodied than before he met this brute. Time seemed to have slowed as he fell. Thoughts, ideas, and last wishes zoomed through his mind. Wishes like never going through that door or wishing that he had the courage to say how he felt about- His wishing was interrupted by a whisper of unheard courage. "Don't be such a coward." His subconscious courage whispered, "You're different here, can't you feel it?" At this thought Axel felt a small surge of power move threw his falling form. Adrenalin was now being pumped through out his system. Fear was replaced with raw anger, as his arms were now ready to mop this drunk's face on the pavement. Flight or fight was activated in Axel's mind and he was going to fight. Our hero drew his small fist back, locked and loaded like a gun. The drunkard had an insane look on his face when he let loose his cannonball-sized fist at Axel's tiny form. The minisule sized fist of Axel's aslo flew, as this happened a roar ripped from Axel's mouth.

The smack of flesh hitting flesh filled the air as the blows collided. A crack like a gunshot could be heard when the contenders met their marks. Axel closed his eyes thinking that the crack was coming from his small, gloved fist. A cry of pain shot through the air as he clumsily landed on his feet. It came not from our scrawny, half-pint hero, but from the gargantuan drunk. He was bent double in pain, clutching a massive bloodied hand. The sight shocked not just Axel, whoes jaw was a gape at what he did, but to Snow who had just walked to a near by food stand to grab lunch. She saw the crowd of people crowding around the large man and Axel. She walked closer to the mass of people , paper bag of steaming food in hand, her eyes widen at who Axel was fighting. It was man she recognized, and everyone else knew, as McDowell. Well known for starting a fight for the smallest of reasons, especially when he was drunk, and one of the few miners who'd dig in the "Blood Mines" where the hobgoblins dwell. Snow pushed her way threw the crowd to get a better look at what Axel had gotten himself into. Her eyes widened at the sight; Axel heaving deep breaths, just as surprised at what happened, and McDowell, swearing and cursing his drunken head off.

"PISS-POTTEN PITTLE!" He roared at the top of his lungs, "You just broke my hand!" the pain seemed to have sobered up McDowell, but just because he was slightly sober didn't mean he wouldn't continue the fight. The burly man spat to one side and from his back pocket he pulled out a large switchblade. Axel eyed the knife in the man's hand; it looked like a small sword, plus he'd rather not get stuck with the balde either. As Axel was looking at the weapon McDowell charged knife in hand, ready to carve at Axel's skinny form. From Axel's perspective McDowell was moving slower than he actually was in real life. He could see where to hit and how to dodge McDowell's attack. With lighting speed Axel drew from holster, his gun-esque blade read to parry his large opponent's slashes.