Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

The blue skinned girl held onto the woman’s collar with a pair of tight grips, as though she were the most delicious of fruits. She glanced down towards the blanket of white, which bit at her so brutally, even though the thick coat. The tiny girl, or rather, the large toddler, blinked. Her blue eyes returned to the woman who had held her so tenderly and affectionately for the last few weeks.

“It is only snow, Amalrot.”

“Eh!” the girl replied, furrowing her brows, her lips forming a pout, for whatever it was, she did not like it.

“It will not hurt you.”

“Eh!” Amalrot replied, shaking her head from side to side, for the words, though she did not completely understand their meaning, she knew they were wrong.

Sonarot slowly placed her down onto the snow, causing the girl to whimper and complain, until finally her cries broke through the air, the girl calming once she was within the woman’s arms once more.

“Sister, it is fine, look,” Lanarot said, holding up a handful of snow up for her sister, thought he girl looked away from her, wrapping her arms around Sonarot. “Amalrot, you silly girl, it is not as hot as fire, it is cold, like ice.”

“Her skin may be so sensitive, since she holds so much fire within her blood,” Sonarot joked, brushing the girl’s cheek. Though she was wrapped in thick clothing, a hat her brother had gifted her, gloves which fought away the terrible chill of nightval, the girl still preferred to remain within the older woman’s arms.

“Amalrot…” Lanarot pouted, staring up at her sister, who did not wish to play with her. “I am not as good as brothers so she will not play with me…”

“Lanarot, that is not true,” Sonarot stated, suddenly taken aback by Lanarot’s words, which had seemingly come out of nowhere. However, Lanarot’s tears began to slip down her face, and she cried loudly, as though she were just a little babe once more. As Sonarot reached out to rub her daughter’s head, her other daughter also made to cry. As they did, her grandchildren walked nearby, noting their aunts were crying, and also began to pout and cry.

The woman blinked.

Meanwhile, her son held the shadow of a smile on his face, his ears flushed red, since he could not show off to his sisters and the other children. He supposed it wasn’t quite as impressive as defeating the various figures his brother had defeated, however he could feel the thoughts emanating from the Crimson Blade, who had arrived to hand over a gift from the Amira, the old man pausing a moment in order to understand the might that was of the Iyrman before him, for certainly he had underestimated Jurot in his estimations, and he would need to inform the Amira of how powerful this young man was.

‘Ah, right,’ Adam thought, having remembered how much work he needed to do for the Grand Duchess. ‘She hasn’t sent word so I guess she shouldn’t be too mad?’

While the small group kicked up a storm of rumours within Arisa, within one of the many estates of the Faro, a small figure, with dark skin, scales as black as night covering her neck and arms, large horns, which threatened to skewer any with the illness of courage, and a blade that could cut those who could survive her horns, sipped away at a bottle of wine, making it more likely for her to use her horns and blade.

“Blahahaha!” the woman roared with laughter at the taller form, which cast a much smaller shadow than her own. “So you picked a fight with an Iyrman and returned looking like that? Just what kind of Iyrman was he? For someone to defeat you so soundly, was it the Butcher?”

“No, though they are apparently related,” Nadir admitted, his entire body still aching, especially his head, which pounded violently.

“Although, letting an old man beat you, I can’t allow that,” the woman said, tossing her bottle to one side, beginning to stand. “I’ve got to teach them a lesson for beating you senseless.”

“It wasn’t an old man.”

“It wasn’t?”

“He was around my age.”

“You were beaten by an Iyrman around your age?” the Sleeping Dragon of Arisa asked.

“I was.”

“You were beaten, in a single blow, by an Iyrman around your age?” the Sleeping Dragon of Arisa asked.

“Yes…”

The woman pointed at her Seneschal and continued to howl in laughter, causing her guards to glance her way, for when was the last time she had laughed this hard?

As the evening began to wind down, the half elf and his companions made their way to bed, only for another heavily armoured figure to step them. However, since Kal Fadi was sending them word from the Faro, who requested a set of ten Basic spears, with an additional gift of a thousand gold, the half elf forgave the woman within his heart, and went to sleep.

Adam stared up at the ceiling, thinking of how much he had worked over the course of the year, and how much more work he needed to complete before he could finally, truly, relax.

The next morning, the group gathered on a ship, thanking Uli for their support. The ship was a ship ran by a drakken by the name of Fasil, with copper hair, copper eyes, and a copper blade at his side, though considering the designs on the handle, Adam expected it to be magical.

“Iyrmen, good to see you,” the fellow said in the Aldish tongue, though heavily accented. “You are related to many great warriors?”

“Yes,” they replied, for each of them were.

“I know of them?”

“Duteos Dogek.”

“Bloodblade Shasen.”

“Mad Dog Jarot.”

“Paragon Shaool.”

The Captain’s mouth formed a tiny circle, for he had indeed heard of them all, or at the very least, he knew Paragon Shaool was probably one of the Ten Paragons of the Iyr. “Many great warriors! Shukhur, we are blessed this day! I am Captain Fasil, my ancestor, uh, she retired in Iyr. You know of Sumaya, the, uh, the Dancer?”

“Sumaya the Dancer, we know of this name,” Jurot confirmed, bowing his head respectfully, for she had long retired in the Iyr at her age, having dealt out her inheritance, then accepting the Iyr’s request to retire and live out her days in peace within the Iyr.

“I am not so strong, but I am decent,” Fasil said. “If there is trouble, I will deal with it.”

As if calling forth trouble, within a few days of their ship speeding its way to Gold Port, a ship approached them from the side, still a mile away, but the sails denoted their intentions.

‘Noorhabi!’ Fasil thought, for certainly, the dark wood of the ship, the jolly roger that denoted two giant spears across a skull, simple enough, but it was certainly Black Bart’s ship, although thankfully they were raising a black flag.

“Should I go on ahead and let them…” Adam began as the flag they raised suddenly changed, causing a great panic within the crew, who quickly readied themselves for battle.

“Nephews, nieces, you should prepare yourselves for battle,” Fasil said, though he was glad figures like the Golden Savages were with them. At the very least, if Black Bart would come to fight, they would struggle, though Black Bart was no simple pirate, so they may still be able to defeat the group.

Bael emerged from the decks, the sailors all avoiding him as he stepped onto the deck, peeking open an eye as the flags changed to reveal a white background, with a dragon coiling around a blade, causing the sailors pause.

‘That’s a pretty cool flag,’ Adam thought.

The sailors paused, their hearts still racing, but thankfully their Captain stepped forward, whispering something into Jurot’s ear, the Iyrman nodding.

“If they do not wish to die, they will step back,” Jurot assured.

“They are pirates…” Fasil warned.

“Captain, you seem to misunderstand which crew possesses the greater warriors,” Jurot replied simply, waiting for the large pirate ship to draw closer, the ship turning so they were finally side by side, and the warrior, Black Bart, stepped onto the edge. He had black hair, black eyes, even blacker skin, standing at the height of a typical man, yet exuding a greater presence. He was lean, with two piercings on his right ear, golden, a pair of spears upon his back.

“Are there any who speak Aswadic among your group, Iyrmen?” Black Bart asked, for though he had been eager to kill, there was a small matter.

“He’s asking if any you speak Aswadic,” Adam whispered.

“We know you speak Aldish well, Black Bart,” Jurot replied simply, holding the figure’s gaze.

“That girl with red skin, is she a child of the Iyr?” the Pirate Captain asked.

“Yes,” Taygak replied.

“She is,” Jurot confirmed.

One of the pirates nearby inhaled sharply, and he smiled, for he had managed to save the entire crew. ‘Boss is gonna give me some gold rings! Oh tha’s right, tha’s right!’

‘I’m going to need to give him a few gold rings,’ Bart thought, bowing his head lightly. “We will escort you across the harsh waves today.”

“Okay,” Jurot said, glancing aside towards Kitool, who leapt off the side of the ship, ran up the side of the pirate ship, and stood beside the Captain, reaching into her robe to reveal a gem, handing it to the pirate, before leaping backwards onto the other ship.

‘Damn,’ Adam thought. ‘That was cool.’

Fasil stared at the young woman, who ignored the various gazes of the figures around her, while the two Captains realised she, and her companions, were not simple Iyrmen at all.

‘If she is able to…’ Bart thought, realising the woman was a Master, for he had learnt the technique many years her senior. Did that mean her companions were more than likely Masters too? Bart’s eyes fell to the figures around her, recognising the Golden Savage and her companion, and then…

“Hmph,” Bael grumbled, returning back to the lower decks, since they weren’t going to fight.

“Well, since Kitool’s already paid you, I guess I can’t really offer Bael a slaughter,” a young fool, with leaf shaped ears said, letting out an awkward sigh.

“You’re no Iyrman,” Bart accused.

“No, I’m not,” Adam replied, a small smile appearing on his lips.

“Iyrman, tell the fool to quieten down.”

“My brother is assigned to protect Taygak.”

“Taygak?”

“The child.”

Bart furrowed his brows, for nothing made any sense, since there was no way that an outsider would…

‘Did he say brother?’

Everything about this situation caused Bart’s hair to stand on end, so he retreated, the ship pulling back, from a quarter mile back, a respectable distance. There was something about that situation that seemed to give Bart pause, but what was it?

“Your brother, has much courage,” Fasil said.

“Did you see the fight during the exhibition?”

“Yes! I saw it,” one gasped. “The great warriors who fought, and then there was the one, in purple, who defeated the good Kal!”

“Yes.”

“…”

“…”

‘Eh?’

He didn't roll well enough to be causing that much trouble to this group, though.