Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

The magical steel cut through the air, the topless Iyrman completing his families techniques under the glorious morning sun, within the greenery of one of the many parks of the Front Iyr. His mind was focused on his form, his muscles stretching, contracting, flexing with every movement. Unlike the weapons of some of those within the Iyr, whose steel moved as though it were the wind, his own was almost like the Gak’s, each swing efficient, forceful, carrying the kiss of finality at the end of the steel.

The Iyrman stopped, panting for air, letting out the exhaustion through his breath, slipping his axe to the axebelt at his waist, reaching for a towel as he pat himself dry, looming over the tiny form who had watched him silently.

“Did you see?”

The girl blinked. She sat upon her bottom, holding onto her knees, the girl’s skin as blue as the ocean, her body perhaps vaster than the lakes within the Iyr, her eyes holding a curiosity which was tempered by recognition.

“This is the way of the Rot family, and you will learn it too,” Jurot said, still patting away at the sweat upon his skin, though it dissipated into the air with the cool wind. He had already completed his exercises in the morning, but he rarely trained in front of his sister, and realised that if she was going to carry the name Rot now, she would also need to learn this way, just like her elder sister.

Amalrot blinked.

“Shall we bathe and then eat?”

“Eah?” Amal asked.

“After we bathe.”

“Numnum.”

“…”

“…”

“I am not so easy to defeat,” Jurot stated calmly.

Amalrot blinked, letting out a short sigh, though allowed him to pick her up, the girl glancing away shyly, though peeked towards her elder brother once more, who held her gaze so firmly.

“I will feed you fruit if you behave,” Jurot said, noting the girl’s eyes filling with recognition upon the magical word. He also considered how he didn’t say he wouldn’t feed her fruit if she misbehaved, so it would not be a lie to do so anyway.

As Jurot tended to his sister, Adam stared down at the various weapons before him, debating which enchantment he would place upon them. He needed to enchant a few axes first, at least three, but what else would he need to enchant? A longsword, several, for certain, but what kind of enchantment should he place on them? There was one he was considering, and he was unsure of whether he should increase the strength of the weapons much more than he originally intended.

Adam winced.

Vonda sat nearby, meditating with the various weapons and armour before her, extending out her will to enchant the items, a curious manner of enchanting, but since she had inherited the method from her husband, she trusted it implicitly, even if it meant her status as a Ray of Life’s Rose may not be able to protect her should anyone find out.

Adam yawned once the afternoon sun fell upon the Iyr, glancing aside to his wife, who had prepared them tea. “Darling?”

“Would you be willing to craft a full set of plate for the next enchantments?” Vonda asked.

“Sure,” Adam replied, for it was a simple matter to craft such for his wife. ‘Is it for her Order?’

“A simple design, please,” Vonda said, smiling warmly towards her husband, sipping her tea gently.

“Are you sure? I’ll do whatever you want on it, darling, so if you want it to look cool, let me know!” Adam sat up taller, ready and eager to spoil his wife, who sighed at his oppressive affection, though she poured him another cup of tea. ‘Ah, right, I probably need to send a chest of silver to them too?’

As the first week passed by, Katool’s birthday came, the girl, who was once younger than even Jirot when they had first met, and yet now was eleven years old. Adam handed her a bronze token, which surprised many, for it was the kind that could be handed over for a Basic weapon, rather cheap from the half elf.

“I didn’t give you permission to grow up, so you’ll just have to accept this!” Adam grumbled, though he hugged the girl, who had grown up so much, no longer the kind who would cry after bullying him, causing him to be blamed, even though he was the victim.

“Cousin Adam…” Katool pat his back gently, feeling how tense he was, and the heaviness within his tone. “Do not worry, I will master our way, and then you do not have to worry.”

“It seems you haven’t grown up so much that you won’t bully me.”

“I am not bullying you!”

Adam let out a satisfied sigh, causing the girl to continue to complain, the half elf smiling wider, for this was how it should be, the half elf thought.

Katool couldn’t be too mad, since he had gifted her something even grander in the previous year.

Sentinel’s Rest.

It was the sword that had passed down through the Order of the Thousand Hunts for generations, a blade which had almost killed the fool of a father.

Katool then recalled what her niece had said, that it had been a terrible gift, since she was an Ool, and did not use a blade. Yes, the scribbles from her niece and nephew were a far greater gift, even those which they had passed to her that day was greater than Sentinel’s Rest, or the bronze token worth hundreds of gold.

“Kako, I will sort him out,” Jirot said, holding her aunt’s hand gently, rolling up her sleeves as she prepared to cause trouble.

Virot, upon seeing her sister brewing the most delicious trouble, also stuck her fists out of her sleeves further, pulling them back, and she waddled onto her feet, ready to beat up whoever she needed to beat up, and of course, it was he.

“Virot,” called a voice, causing the girl to glance back towards him. “I intend to step out to the village to kill the rising Undead. Would you like to come and watch?”

Virot narrowed her eyes, side eyeing her uncle, though her lips formed a sly smile in response.

“Silly, papo! Virot must stay in the Iyr! She is just a little girl!” Jirot said, rushing to her sister, holding her close to her chest, the girl’s eyes wide towards her uncle, not in a threat, but in sheer disbelief, holding a hint of betrayal.

“You are right,” Jurot surrendered, for it was difficult to defeat his niece these days, his heart throbbing lightly.

“Brother, I will go!” Lanarot declared, her eyes beaming towards her elder brother, expectations weighing down on his shoulders. “Amalrot, you can come too! We can watch brother fight and then you can see how strong he is! Our brother, he is so strong! Did you know? Ock! What am I saying, of course you know!”

Amalrot turned her head slightly as Lanarot held it, her elder sister planting a firm kiss on the girl’s head, being careful the girl’s horns did not poke her eye, as her mother had constantly drilled into her, and would continue to do so for years to come. Yet, Lanarot had so many cousins she had embraced with horns like so, so she was well practised, perhaps even more so than her elder brother.

No, perhaps not her elder brother.

“It is difficult, for little Amalrot is so young,” Jurot explained.

“Amalrot is young, but she is not little,” Lanarot said, having almost made the mistake of picking her up, only to remember how much her back ached. She was still a little girl, even if she was Rot.

“I will watch over her,” the half dragon offered, for it was probably best for him to step out towards the village and watch over Lanarot.

“Okay.”

Adam glanced between the pair, considering how much faith the Iyr had within Bael, so much so they would allow him to watch over one of their children? ‘I wonder why…’

Though Jurot had spoken the words on the seventh, upon the eighth, they had already prepared to leave.

“Papo, I will miss you so much,” Jirot said, holding onto her uncle’s leg, the girl sniffling slightly. “Will you miss me?”

“Yes.”

“Of coas, of coas,” Jirot said, holding up her arms for him to pick her up, the pair exchanging kisses. “Jarot, come, kiss papo goodbye.”

Little Jarot had already prepared to kiss his uncle, but he held the Iyrman’s head, hugging it tenderly.

“…”

“…”

Jurot also picked up his son, the pair holding one another close, for though Damrot was Virot’s shadow, there was no doubt the boy was his son, apparently equally as well behaved as he when the Iyrman was the boy’s age.

The triplets also greeted their papos and kakos, for it wasn’t just Jurot leaving, but also Kitool, Chosen, and Tanagek. The children swarmed the Iyrmen who were about to step out, not that far, for the village was but a day’s travel away at most, but they still needed to greet those who were leaving, for any time an Iyrman stepped out, they may greet their Lord of Death.

“Don’t be a hero!” Adam declared to the others who were also stepping out, not just the Iyrmen, but those within the business, who hadn’t stretched their legs in a long while. “I don’t care if most of you are Experts, the moment you drop your guard, you die!”

The Golden Savages were not a part of that conversation, but those who had once been farmers, porters, and commoners within the land, listened intently to the words of their Executive, the Priest of Death who told them not to die.

Tanika was just glad she was finally about to crush some skulls, in the most literal sense.