Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

"You! You troublesome daddy of mine! How you can be so sick? I told you!” Jirot huffed, her annoyance rising further and further within her heart, only tempered by her anxiety. “You silly boy, troubling mummy like this!”

“You’re right.”

“Of coas.”

“Of course.” The half elf let out a heavy sigh, wincing slightly, though the pain was greater than his wince suggested. However, he couldn’t show such weakness to his children, especially not these two, she with the most vicious of tongues, he with the softest of hearts. “Dear, I am overwhelmed by a magical sickness, but it was because this father of yours was protecting your aila.”

“Hmph!” Jirot clenched her fists tight, but the girl flushed a touch. “Good job, daddy.”

Adam smiled, turning his head slightly so he could see little Jarot, who pouted up towards the fool of a father. The half elf reached out with a trembling arm, brushing his son’s hair gently, his thumb softly tickling his son’s leaf shaped ear. “Let’s turn that frown upside down, yeah?”

Little Jarot tilted his head lightly, but smiled, not because of his father’s words, but his gentle touch, though it was cold now. “Daddy…”

Adam winced lightly as he withdrew his arm, noting the glare within his daughter’s eyes, the girl filled with such an ache within her heart, for how could her father wound her like this? “I’m sorry, my Jirot, my Jarot, for worrying you like this.”

“I always hear you are sorry but you keep misbehaving!” Jirot accused, holding up her finger, wagging it.

“I’m sorry,” Adam replied, his heart aching more than his body. The half elf sniffled, closing his eyes. It was then, as though breaking through a crumbling damn, the shame washed through him. “This father of yours is sorry, sorry for being such a terrible father.”

Jirot’s mouth dropped, her eyes growing wide, taking a moment as though her father had slapped her, even wincing. Her head snapped to her brother, whose face mirrored her own, until Jirot’s face contorted.

“Mummy!” the girl cried, charging out of the room, forcing her way into the courtyard, and upon hearing the pair cry, a great many Iyrmen nearby tensed up. “Mummy!”

“What is it?” Vonda asked, calming her heart.

“Daddy is hurt, mummy! You have to heal him!”

Vonda calmed her heart once more, but her steps were swifter than her calmness would suggest, approaching her husband swiftly. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing,” the half elf replied, rubbing his eyes.

“Mummy! Daddy is hurting! Mummy!”

“Why are you crying, my children?” Vonda asked, rubbing their cheeks.

“Mummy! Daddy said bad things! Mummy! You have to fix daddy’s heart!”

‘Ah,’ Vonda thought, smiling down at her children. “It is hard to fix daddy’s heart, but for us, it is a simple matter. When your daddy is feeling better, you may sleep with him, okay?”

“Mummy, you must sleep with daddy tonight!” Jirot demanded, but instead of with a blade like finger, she held her mother’s rough hand.

“I won’t complain about that,” Adam replied, trying to sit up, though he gave up immediately, the aches in his body humbling the young man who had gone blow for blow with so many great figures.

“I will watch over him for now, my dear, and you may keep your babo company.”

“Huu! Mummy!” Jirot sniffled, wiping her eyes with her sleeves. “Mummy, you must take care of daddy! You are mummy!”

“I will, I will,” Vonda assured, sending the pair away, allowing their babo to play with them to deal with their hearts. “What did you say to cause even Jirot to cry?”

“I apologised for being such a terrible father.”

“How did you say it?”

“Quite depressingly, admittedly.”

Vonda let out a soft sigh, for her husband was truly exhausted if he had made such a mistake. She brushed his hair gently with a hand. “I should have remained.”

“It’s my own fault.”

Vonda placed a finger on his lips. “At this time you are too weak to lie to me, darling.”

Adam narrowed his eyes and as he opened his mouth, his wife tutted, and warned him with her eyes. The half elf paused a moment. “Darling.”

“If you dare lie to me a second time I will inform Jirot, and Konarot.”

“To think you would invoke both of their names at once…”

“Do you think I will not?”

The half elf fell silent, his heavy eyes shutting, and though he had only wished to blink, he inhaled deeply, and almost felt slumber overwhelm him. “Do you remember. When Jirot joked. She joked. Daddy. I do not like you. Kekeke. Then. Later. In the night. She cried so much. Daddy. I did not say. I love you. I do not like. You. I love you.”

Vonda noted the smile upon his lips as her husband drifted to sleep, who was so fortunate not just to have a daughter like Jirot, but daughters like Konarot, Kirot, and Virot, and sons like Jarot, Karot, Larot, and Xarot. In this world, even just one of these children was sent by the Divine, but it was only Adam who was able to say he had so many wonderful children.

She, too, could speak such words.

The half elf needed many days to heal during the month, while those with heavy hearts continued to train.

A particularly young, handsome Iyrman cut through the air, his lean, powerful form glistening with sweat. As he turned, the pair of toddlers clapped excitedly, the girl raising her hands up, squealing with delight.

‘It seems she is close with her aunt too,’ Jurot thought, and once he was done, he carried the children elsewhere, for they had yet to begin their school, and thus could trouble him so.

Another young, handsome Iyrman cut through the air, her lean form, not quite as strong, but no less powerful, also glistened with sweat, though her fists were no longer the kind to strike steel with the force of steel, though they were no less powerful. No longer was she the kind to force her opponents away, though as she inhaled sharply towards the end of her session, she emanated a most grave wickedness.

The young woman wondered when she’d finally be able to do that, though considering she was already half way there, she presumed it would take another half decade, if she considered the ridiculous pace in which she gathered such great power.

She had just turned twenty five, two weeks after Jurot and Adam, and though the birthday had been quiet, as quiet as it could be with one particular niece making sure to spoil her, the young woman considered her power. She was weaker than Jurot, that much was for certain, it was her skill which placed her among the powerful, and she was not quite as tough, though then again, if one’s opponent was a member of the Rot family, that was to be expected.

For now.

Yet, how many Iyrmen had reached the height of a Master at such an age? She had surpassed many of her uncles and aunts, each of whom were considered quite talented, even Kaygak, Tavgak’s mother, was considered among a great warrior, and perhaps was someone they could have placed their fortunes upon, and yet, she had slipped past them all.

Indeed, she had reached the heights of a particular Iyrman by such an age.

The one armed Jarot held his greatchildren to his chest, holding one within his arm, the one that needed to be held, for the other clung to him so well, and behaved so well, while the other needed to be restrained within his arm in order to behave so well. The pair sucked their thumbs as they cuddled with their babo, though as the shadows encroached over the sun, a number of Iyrmen came to visit them, not just any Iyrmen, but those who were most familiar.

Malfev glanced aside towards Shasen, who may not have been quite as swift as he, but at the same time, did he need to remain a step behind while approaching?

“Uh oh,” Jirot began. “Here comes trouble.”

‘She has inherited my great humour,’ the old Jarot thought, brimming with pride.

“Jirot, I will entrust your papos and kakos with your training, for I must leave for a few weeks.”

Jirot sat upright upon her babo’s lap, turning her head to look towards her greatfather with such shock, turning her head back towards the old man. “Why?”

“I must train.”

“I am not talking to you no more, babo,” the girl said, looking towards Shasen.

“I must train too,” Shasen added.

The girl looked towards the pair, then towards the other handful of Iyrmen nearby. “Have you all come to bully me too?”

“…”

“Babo! Everybody is bullying me!” the girl complained, pouting, threatening to cry.

“Shall I cut their necks?”

“Just a little bit, babo, just a little bit!” The girl held her finger and thumb close.

“It is because you have bullied us so much, we must bully you slightly in return,” Malfev joked, feeling the intense pressure from the Iyrman who was currently sat down, trapped under a pair of twins, and yet, certainly he could at least cripple the fellow should he require it.

“Huu!” Jirot’s tears began to slip down her face, and even as the Iyrmen huffed her, their hearts full of such an awkward pain, they could not allow the tears to cause them to falter.

Thankfully, a particularly reliable little Iyrman held onto the girl, hugging her close, for though Jirot may have been the first daughter, she was certainly the eldest daughter.

“Babo, it is not nice to bully my sister,” little Jarot said, pointing at Malfev with an accusatory finger, the boy’s eyes full of tears, sniffling lightly.

Malfev blinked.

You know you messed up when you accidentally posted in the wrong chapter.