Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

Her hands were coarse, the kind forged through years of training, wielding a mace with the hope not to use it. They were thick, from muscle, and from gaining a little weight in the last few years, for having a child would do that to one’s body, having two, too, would do that to one’s body. The hands held a comfort within them, so familiar was the half elf with these hands. Nᴇw ɴovel chaptᴇrs are published on noᴠelfire.net

The two ventured through the Front Iyr, changed as it was, the buildings far grander, no longer the quaint Front Iyr, now taking the matters of the twenty first century seriously, the kind that had taken away Elder Story for a year, the Year of Silence, the kind that brought the Reavers to bear upon the land, and the kind which would bring a great many changes.

Vonda led the half elf to a bench, settling herself to one side, the half elf settling himself beside her, pinning her to the side, so she could not escape his adoration. She leaned against him, his strong arm wrapping around her waist, and wordless, the pair sat, her head against his chest, her cheek against the top of her head, her floral scent drifting upwards to soothe his heart.

“Oh,” Adam said, ruining the moment, pulling back slightly before reaching into his tunic, revealing a small vial with a wooden stopper. “I bought you this, darling.”

“Uthur?”

“I ended up making my own formula for you,” Adam said, holding it up to his wife, his smile meek and sheepish, for he was his sons’ father.

Vonda accepted the small vial, popping off the stopper, leaning in to smell the gentle scent, a hint of honey, a hint of flora, a hint of warmth. She smiled, dabbing it upon her wrist, wiping it together, rubbing it along her neck. She leaned in, allowing her husband to smell her scent, the half elf flushing lightly as he did, wrapping his arms around her waist once more.

“It smells wonderful, Adam.”

“I bought quite a bit, so use it freely, and when you’re about to run out, let me know.”

“I will have to use it sparingly, otherwise the children will be upset when you leave to buy more.”

“I’ll just spend a few hundred gold to make sure you can wear it for a decade or two,” the half elf replied, since a few hundred gold was so cheap to make sure he could spoil his wife for that long. He would spend that much monthly if it didn’t upset her.

Somehow, that was to say, Adam knew exactly how his wife had managed it, Vonda found herself upon his lap, a hand upon his shoulder, her head against his chest, his arms wrapped around her to protect her from the sun, which beat down so proudly upon the Iyr, the clouds not daring to threaten it this day.

As the pair embraced, Adam continued to take in her scent, his fingers daring to trail downwards, only to find her poking his nose, her brow raised, and though Adam could dare to defy her, playfully, he tensed up, choosing to obey instead. The half elf pressed his lips against her neck, a pair of lip shaped petals blooming on her neck.

As Vonda dealt with the broken heart of her husband, Malfev dealt with the broken hearts of his greatnephews and greatnieces, who were curious to see what their greatuncle had planned for the afternoon.

It was a large enough courtyard, one of the many cleared for such a task, and though usually such an exercise was more structured for the children, usually as part of their schooling, this was something Malfev required to deal with his own broken heart too.

Once this place had been a lush field of green, wild, untamed, but now it was a courtyard large enough to allow twenty children to train. A small fence sequestered this place from the outside world, and though many could see within, and they could see outside, it was a place tucked in one corner, so few eyes would scan the place, though in the Iyr, a set of eyes was never far.

Though it had been built in the last few years, Malfev reminisced upon his youth as a child, for this was similar to the area he had trained within as a boy. Yes, certainly, this was the Iyr, the Iyr he knew, the Iyr he loved, the Iyr he wished to protect.

The children stood, ready to listen to their babo, who inhaled deeply, calming his heart.

“Today, we will begin to play, and this play will prepare you for your training in the future,” Malfev said, holding out a hand, before clapping his hands together. “Do you know what we must train to become great warriors?”

“Heart, mind, and body!” Jirot declared, for she had learnt that much from her various teachers, something which was spoken near countless times.

“Your hearts, you will train them as you grow, your mind, you are training with your schooling, but your body, that I will train through our play,” Malfev said, clapping his hands together once more. “When I clap, you must also clap.”

The children clapped as the old man clapped once more, the old man taking the tiny children within his sights, feeling how his heart trembled. Did the elderly Iyrmen who trained him as a boy also feel so uneasy, to train such innocent children? No, he must train them, for the children would need to learn one day.

“We will run to train our stamina,” Malfev began, clapping his hands, the children clapping their hands after. “We are Iyrmen, we must outlast our opponents. When your greatmother and I brought Xarot and Virot, both of whom missed you dearly, we had to run across the mountains and hills, but if the Front Iyr was suddenly in danger, we would need to return back to the mountain with our dear greatchildren.”

Though the words stirred the children’s hearts, the children all took the words different, though in a similar manner.

Konarot thought of Kirot and Karot, how she had to lead them through the mountains, through the forest, once they had hatched.

Kirot, too, thought of that time, but thought how she could assist her sister and brother.

Karot thought about how he must train his stamina in order to keep up with his sisters, so as to not burden them.

Jirot thought about how she had to make sure she could lead Jarot, and in order to do that, she needed the stamina to keep a step ahead.

Jarot thought of how his greatfather would carry him, and sometimes he would be too tired, and would settle him down. He would need to train hard so he could carry Virot and Xarot for a long while.

“You must learn to sprint, for the sake of speed, so that you are able to move swiftly to react if it is required,” Malfev explained. “You must work your muscles to grow stronger, to carry the burden that is to be an Iyrman. There is also the need to balance well, so in a critical time, you do not slip.”

The children listened intently to their babo’s words, not hearing the pain within his heart, though they noted the difference in his tone, for this matter was important, not realising it was due to how tight his chest was.

“You must keep two thoughts within your mind!” Malfev almost exclaimed, causing the greatchildren to twitch from how loud he had suddenly become, but he clapped his hands to distract them, and they followed suit. “To live a long time, you must train your legs. Do you know why?”

“To run fast!” Jirot stated, her entire body tensing, wincing at the memory, though she was quickly distracted by the need to clap her hands.

“Yes, but that is not all,” Malfev said, also wincing lightly. “As you grow older, as old as I, though I do not suffer the same way, for I am a Fev, but like those of your greatfather, Jarot, with his wrinkles, you will find you will not possess the same strength, the same endurance, the same power, as when you were younger. You must train your legs so that you are able to run, yes, but so that you can walk, so that you can stand.”

The children all let out a groan of understanding, causing the old man’s heart to ease, the burdens in his heart carried away by their innocent thoughts.

“The first thought you must keep in mind is that you must train your legs, the second thought you must keep in mind is that you must train every day.”

“Every day?” Jirot asked, tilting her head. “Even when it is the sixth and seventh days?”

“If you are sick, you may take the day off, but if you can train, you must train. You are Iyrmen, not Aldish, not Aswadian, not Drakken, Iyrmen. Do not make excuses. Train, for there are even Aldishmen who train daily, though it is not within their people to do so, and even if you are born in the Iyr, you must earn your place among the greatest. To protect your home, those who you love, and to make sure the Aldish know they cannot dare to look towards the Iyr, you must train. Do you… understand?”

Konarot thought back to the bandits who had taken her and her siblings, and then the large shadow of the Iyrman who she now called her baba, the man who had looked so sad, and yet made sure she and her siblings were safe.

“Yes!” called a child, whose face contorted in a mixture of confidence, sadness, and anger, her amber eyes glistening slightly, her tiny green fists balled together.