Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

“Oh my, oh my, what a normal day today is,” Jirot said, looking up towards the sky. “Is that not right, mummy?”

“It is?” Vonda asked.

“Oh my, oh my,” Jirot continued, waddling her way back. “Gosh, daddy, we are going to be playing all day, yes?”

“Of course.”

“Of coas,” Jirot confirmed, the girl then peeking to the side, along with her father, neither of them noticing the other had done so, for they were truly their father’s daughter, their daughter’s father.

Larot stared ahead of himself, deciding to ignore the pair of them.

“Oh my, oh my, daddy…”

“Oh my, oh my, my dear…”

“Who is this big boy?”

“Who could it be?”

“Ock!” Jirot reached up to her forehead, gasping. “Daddy, look!”

“I am looking.”

“Those ears.”

“Ah, yes, I see now.”

“They look so familiar?”

“They do indeed.”

“So beautiful, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Such beautiful red skin too,” Jirot said, for the sanguine skin was tantalizing to her amber eyes.

“Yes,” Adam agreed, for certainly, he had the most beautiful red skin.

“Oh my, oh my, daddy, could it be?”

“Ah, it could be?”

“It must be my little brother who is so cute!” Jirot declared, marching up to her younger brother, picking him up. “Oh my gosh! My handsome brother! My pretty brother! My cute brother! You are so big now, even I, your sister, cannot lift you?”

Larot remained silent as his sister smothered him in affection.

‘Kaka is daddy’s daughter…’ Konarot thought.

Larot thought of the finality of death he was familiar with, and he supposed perhaps it was not as terrible as this.

It was difficult to spoil Larot that morning, for Jirot stuck to him like glue, hugging him close, kissing his face and head all over, and yet the boy did not refuse her affections, though he did glare towards many others who wished to shower him in such.

Of course, there were a few who could defeat his elder sister, for his grandmother made sure to take him away to change him into more appropriate attire, and then the entire group began to shower him in gifts, for the boy was only four years old, and whatever he may have been considered centuries ago, he was now their little Larot, son of Adam, grandson of Sonarot, greatson of the Mad Dog, a member of the Rot family as his grandmother and greatfather, and his name, and death, had been paid in blood and steel.

“You’re the big four now…” Adam whispered, feeding his son, even through the boy’s glare, for though Larot glared at him, he was still the boy’s father, and had to do this much. “Are you alright?”

Larot nodded, accepting another spoonful of potato, a gift from his sister, though the girl had also gifted him a beautiful ribbon she had tied within his hair, only for her grandmother to redo it.

“I assume you’re pretty smart?”

Larot nodded.

“Will you study in the Iyr?”

Larot remained silent for a long moment, chewing on his potato, and on his thoughts. He nodded.

Adam smiled, reaching down to brush the boy’s hair tenderly, for Larot was his son, and though the boy preferred to remain alone, sans a few Iyrmen, mostly children, he still adored his son, no matter what he had previously been, as his own.

Larot’s eyes slipped to the side, feeling the instant of pain and fury flash across the half elf.

“What would you like for your birthday?” Adam asked.

Larot pointed to the half elf’s axe.

“Oh? You want a magical weapon?”

Larot nodded.

“Do you want this one specifically?”

Larot thought, then he shook his head, and held out his hand towards his father, his eyes expectant.

Insight Check

D20 + 1 = 8 (7)

“…”

“Money?” Jurot mused.

“Oh? You want money?”

Larot nodded.

“How much do you want?”

Larot took his fork and wrote within the meat of his potato.

“A thousand gold?”

Larot nodded.

“Okay! I’ll give you a thousand gold!” He lifted his son up and peppered his cheek in kisses, and for a moment, the boy flashed with fury, though it slipped away into nothingness. “I think I already made you a bank account with about ten thousand, but I can give you another one thousand.”

Larot nodded.

“You’ll be a good boy and listen to the Iyr, right?” Adam whispered into his son’s leaf shaped ear.

The boy sighed, nodding his head, for the Iyr, which had been a source of nightmares across the land for at least two millennia, was not the kind of place even he, Larot, son of Adam, could cause trouble, not that he ever did, save for the times he proved himself his father’s son, his sister’s brother, his greatfather’s greatson.

Larot didn’t want to admit he could feel the way his father’s heart thundered within his chest, even as the fool peppered his cheeks in affection.

“Huu!” Jirot sniffled, covering her eyes. “You are so silly, Larot, so silly!”

Little Jarot glanced aside to his sister, the girl wiping the wetness from her eyes.

“Did I say it? Did I give you permission? Huu! Who said you can grow up, you silly boy?” Jirot hugged her brother once more, sniffling, holding him so close, this younger brother of hers, who had caused her so much trouble, especially the dark emotions which swirled within her heart. “You silly boy! I told you you must listen!”

The older one armed Jarot lifted the girl up by the back of her shirt, Jirot’s tear filled eyes full of confusion, and betrayal, for how could he do it?

“Do you think Larot is only your brother? He is my greatson too, so let me spoil him too!”

Jirot blinked, sniffling lightly. “Babo, I have shown you too much mercy?”

The old Jarot blinked. “Do you think because you are so cute I will forgive you?”

“Yes.”

The old Jarot sighed, for when his greatdaughter was right, she was right, pulling her close to his chest, claiming her as his for the day, for she could not think of such dark thoughts, not within his arm.

Jurot was glad they had managed to deal with the Undead so swiftly, for he could return to his family, and eat such a fine dessert, for his heart which also ached so deeply.

It was then a shadow loomed upon the estate, even as the day was so full of life, and since it was the fourteenth, the estate would be livelier all day long, but was it ever so easy?

“I see,” Adam began, already feeling his daughter’s glare upon his back. “If the Iyr requires my help, it cannot be helped, and I, Adam, am innocent and cannot be blamed.”

Jaygak looked towards Jirot, who side eyed the pair, her eyes full of a threat to cause trouble, for she was within her greatfather’s arm, which meant she was poised, at the ready. The little girl raised her brows.

“It is important,” Jaygak confirmed. “A special guest has arrived to meet with you, so perhaps, in the slightest way…”

Adam’s eyes remained pleading, for if she continued to speak the words, Adam would be in great trouble, the kind that would be difficult for anyone to deal with.

“It is Sir Dunnock of the Wings,” Jaygak explained.

Jirot’s mouth formed a tiny circle of shock, and she looked up towards her greatfather, who raised his brows, for if it was such a special guest, what could they do?

“Does Sir Dunnock understand the gravity of asking me to step out at this time?” Adam stated, his tone dark.

“If it is a matter of the Order of the Wings, even you, upon this day of all days, must step out to assist,” Jaygak replied simply, before he got himself in trouble with his wife.

Adam reached up to rub the side of his neck, feeling the stress rise into his head, pulsing against his forehead, the thrumming causing images to flash within his mind of the last time he had met Sir Dunnock. Adam inhaled deeply, letting out a soft sigh, and turned to face his daughter.

“…”

“…”

“Sir Dunnock,” Adam said, approaching the woman but a short while later, for the Iyr would not cause the Order of the Wings to wait for long, so had sent the half elf in a swift carriage to arrive at the fortress that was once called the United Kindom, but was currently filled with at least a hundred Iyrmen, and many more unseen shadows. “You sure have some courage to call for me upon my son’s fourth birthday!”

She was as tall as Adam, and almost as built as Nobby, adorned in her dark armour, near black, her helmet, fashioned to look like a bird’s head, to one side. Her short red hair fell to the tips of her ears, her hazel eyes stern. She was darker than Aldishmen, her skin slightly redder than the typical Aswadian. Her wrinkles formed a frown around her face.

“I did not realise,” the woman admitted.

“There is no need to behave so rudely,” one of her companions called, also adorned in similar armour, a man in his twenties, pale skinned, with harsh eyes.

“Do you know which of my sons celebrates his fourth birthday today?” Adam asked, holding the woman’s gaze.

The woman narrowed her eyes slightly, and after a moment of thought, bowed her head. “I apologise.”

Adam’s eyes then darted towards the young man who spoke up, and as the heat of rage bubbled up within his heart, he thought to lash out, but seeing the nearby Iyrmen, and recalling her actions the last time they had met, he let out a deep sigh. “How may this fool of a father assist the great and venerable Sir Dunnock of the Order of the Wings?”

Sir Dunnock wasn’t sure if his tone being so neutral was in her favour or not. To think, of all the children, it had to be his birthday she arrived on.