Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

The two carriages flew across the land, passing from village to village, towards Red Oak and beyond, making for the land of Black and Gold, to the beautiful city of Arisa.

Adam checked upon the village’s Chiefs, and upon hearing they were safe, he slipped twenty gold to each village, plus thirty for any of the villages they stayed within overnight. The outpost on the way to Red Oak held some small issues, but with Taygak, they were allowed to pass through with ease.

The shadow of Red Oak loomed large over the group, though Adam’s annoyance loomed larger. With little issue, they slipped within, spending a night within the town. Though Adam wished to spend leanly within Red Oak, this awful place, he couldn’t allow himself to disrespect his guest.

Uli looked out towards the Florian outpost, denoting that, at the very least, they were within Florian territory. It was this territory in which he could begin feeling safe, and as a Black Lion, he would be treated kindly enough.

‘I should have brought a gift for little Ara,’ Adam thought as they approached Ever Green, finding the guards recognised them, and allowed them in with little trouble.

Thankfully, few issues arose on their journey, the group meeting a few travellers along their journey, passing them by with no bother.

As Uli stood upon the deck of the ship, he wondered how things were so calm upon their journey. He noticed how much Chaos the half elf courted, yet upon their return, as the waves bobbed back and forth against the hull, little came to strike him. Perhaps, the Black Lion thought, even Chaos was too scared to deal with Adam this month.

It was the middle of the month, the middle of the season, the ship docked at the port capital, Arisa. The countless ships, like tiny ants, danced along the horizon, fishing, relaxing, coupling. The Mulazim who spied the ship sauntered towards it, ready to check its manifest, its occupants, and its good. Of course, if the Captain of the ship wished to settle, he wouldn’t be opposed to a pouch of silver.

‘Ah? Iyrmen?’ the Mulazim thought, his lips twitching into a wider smile, eager to see how much trouble the Iyrmen would dare to cause in front of him, ready to tap his medallion, only for him to pause. The man was tall and proud, long black hair, braids which loosened at his shoulders, his beard short, but neatly trimmed, his skin almost as black as obsidian, his striking hazel eyes judging the world around him. It was the black full plate, dark as death, with countless engravings in Aswadic, a long black cape, embroidered with golden thread, the blade at his side, certainly jeticule, which caused him pause.

“Mulazim,” Kal Uli, the Black Lion called, his voice oppressing the young man, a greater weight than the weight of expectations pinning him down.

“Mulazim,” the Mulazim of the guard replied, the young man holding the Black Lion’s gaze, only for his eyes to fall.

Uli placed his silver mask upon his face, that which revealed the golden trim around his eyes, denoting him as no simple Black Lion, but one who was considered an elite, a Master, far greater than the Mulazim, who would reach the title of Expert in the future.

It wasn’t long until they arrived at an inn, one which was considered a three beht inn, the kind that was acceptable for a Black Lion with a silver mask with golden trim, though he would not complain, for he travelled with a figure who had defeated his Fariq.

The large garden led up to the inn, allowing customers to relax near the main building, while the public were allowed to settle among the outer third, allowing little children and those who needed a moment to rest to settle. As they approached the main building, standing tall, like a tree, providing many shade, though it was the middle of nightval, and thus protected many from the gentle snows which would soon fall upon Arisa, they noted the warrior who stood outside. The guard wore a scarf wrapped around her head, only allowing other to see her eyes, and she carried a long, thin blade at her side, and other than her thick clothing, she seemed to wear little armour.

Uli reached up to his helmet, revealing his face, narrowing his eyes towards the woman, who wore a long thin blade, with a handle which was seemingly made of silver, wrapped in a scarf, but he noted the symbol, that of a flower.

“Noorhabi,” the woman said, pulling down her scarf slightly, as though to allow her to see his face better. “It is good to see you again, Kal Uli.”

“You as well, akawat.”

“How many years has it been? Thirteen, fourteen years, since we last saw one another?” the woman mused. “I recall assisting to chase down Bardok, or…”

“It was so,” Uli agreed. “I heard you retired soon after due to an injury he imposed on you.”

“A small injury, long since healed, but I thought it was best to retire then.” The woman’s eyes smiled, for she had already reached a greater height than she expected.

“Have you found someone to inherit your sword?”

“No one good,” the woman admitted. “There are too many who do not have the heart, but what can I do, for it is Noor’s will.”

“Noorshukhur, I pray you will find someone to inherit your sword,” Kal Uli said.

“If you are looking for someone to inherit your sword, aila, I know someone,” a fool said.

“Who is this, Kal?”

“This is Mo Adam, of the United Kindom. Mo Adam, this is Kal Esmerey, the Hallucinating Sword.”

“That is a wonderful epithet,” Adam said, reaching out a hand, only to reach up to hold his chin awkwardly.

“Thank you, Mo.”

“I’m not sure if you have heard of me, for I have caused quite a bit of trouble across the lands, but I’m more well known in Aldland.”

“What trouble have you caused, Mo?”

“I ended up killing a few knightly fellows of the Thousand Hunts,” Adam replied, smiling awkwardly, speaking as though killing such figures was almost routine for him.

“Is that worthy of a smile?”

“They shouldn’t have killed my sons,” Adam replied, speaking casually of the morbid affair, smiling even wider, though with still an awkwardness.

The woman’s eyes stuttered between the half elf and the Kal, who stood awkwardly between them, but held the woman’s gaze. “Noor’s blessings, nephew.”

“I am quite fortunate that the Iyrmen are so tender with their affection,” Adam replied, confusing the woman, before swiftly moving along, for Adam was Adam. “If you are looking for someone to inherit your blade, I know of a few, my niece, Ranya, who is the daughter of two figures of…”

“…”

Adam paused to glance to the side, holding Jurot’s gaze for a moment, and thought to perhaps mention who her grandfather was, but realised perhaps that was rude to speak without permission. “She is the daughter of two figures from Black Mountain, Mo Dunes and Ka Amira.”

“You seem to be quite involved with many great figures,” the woman accused, assuming the half elf was joking, for why would two figures of Black Mountain allow her to train their daughter?

“Well, I’m a little special, that’s why, by Noor’s Will, I have appeared before you, to find someone worthy of your sword, someone with a good heart, even if she does complain when I want a bite of her pepper,” Adam replied, letting out a pained sigh.

‘Is he pretending to be a fool?’ the woman thought. ‘It feels far more real, but at the same, it feels like an act.’

The enigma before her, who smiled while speaking of grave matters so openly, he was not a simple figure, especially if a Black Lion was escorting him.

“Shall we speak within?” the woman offered, allowing them to step within the warm inn. She noted a look from the owner, the woman holding up three fingers, from her middle finger to her pinky, allowing another to take her place.

The smell of spices filled the air much greater, the kind that enticed the half elf, whose stomach growled after eating sea rations for a week or so. The wooden inn was full of those who were considered middle class, adventurers, and even a handful of travelling Priests, who noted the newcomers, as well as the figure adorned in all black.

The half elf placed down a gem worth a hundred gold, casually revealing his wealth to those around him.

“It is dangerous to reveal you posses so much,” Esmerey said, the woman holding her blade over her lap, as though ready to wield it at any moment.

“I’m not worried about those who would like to rob me for my wealth, but those who wish to draw their blade for vengeance,” the half elf replied simply. “Even without my armour, common thugs, even Experts, would find a hard time dealing with me.”

“Are you a Master?”

“Officially, I suppose one might consider me a Master, but I’ve clashed with several Grand Commanders and Fariqi,” Adam stated, as though it were a simple matter.

Esmerey’s eyes stuttered once more, finding Uli’s eyes confirmed the half elf’s words. “I wish to hear your tale, Mo.”