Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

His shadow was long, though the Iyrman was short, with long white hair falling down to chest, bright green eyes, and a greatblade on his back that seemed to cast an even greater shadow on the estate. The Iyrman peeked down towards the children to one side, though he sauntered up to his foolish nephew, kicking a stool out to sit on it, allowing the fellow to pour him some tea.

“What are you doing here?” Jarot growled, striking the earth with his metal leg.

“I have come to see my nephew,” Baztam replied simply, accepting the tea from Gorot, all the while little Gurot and Murot glanced up towards their granduncle, the one who many called the Black Shark, though he possessed a great many steel names, martial epithets, though few knew him beyond the Black Shark.

“Babo,” called a voice, as the little girl and her younger brother rushed up to him, carrying a small pouch of fruit, and it was obvious why the Mad Dog had such a problem with his arrival.

“As always, it is my greatniece and greatnephew who spoil me the most,” the old man said, his eyes darting to Gorot.

“Gurot, Murot, do not call out to your granduncle,” Gorot replied.

“Do you think I will not beat you?” Baztam asked, holding his nephew’s eyes.

“I will speak with mother.”

“You have grown so much?”

“Gurot, Murot, come,” Gorot said, lifting his sons up, though the old man huffed, and he returned back to his seat, while Baztam greeted the twins, feeding each some of the fruit they had brought.

Yes, it was he, Baztam, who had come to cause trouble today, except…

A shadow loomed over the estate, as the figure stepped within. ““I have gathered the bottles.”

The twins gasped, rushing up to the half dragon, who was certainly a dragon, the azure scaled fellow grinning wide, taking the twins away, though he was swiftly followed by Baztam, for even he would not dare to trouble Baztam.

“Leaving so soon?”

“I have greeted my nephew,” Baztam said, ruffling the chonky boys hair, each of them cackling lightly, until he stepped away, following the half dragon out. Baztam also waved towards the triplets, who smiled towards him and waved towards the short Iyrman, and as he held out a hand, the triplets got up to greet him, allowing him to ruffle their hair, until the old Iyrman stepped away.

‘Baztam will come…’ Jarot thought, narrowing his eyes, finding it a great wound upon his heart, but what could he do? At the very least, he had earned the right, for he was the one to kill at least two of the Aldish who had come to trouble them last year, and then had saved that foolish boy who had married his daughter, he who had stepped out to protect his own daughter, who had almost gotten herself killed trying to show off to the children. Jarot thought of his granddaughter, his first, who fought so well last year, having only lost because she was fighting a figure considered a whole realm above her.

Would they come along too?

Laygak had already stepped back, so he would not come, would he?

No, Jarot thought. Laygak, of all Iyrmen, would step out, if it involved his favourite niece and nephew.

His first greatchildren, those gifted to him by a troublesome grandson of his, found their way within his mind, as they often were. He reached up to cover his eyes, his forehead pulsing. How poorly had they treated the children when they first arrived into their family, named even after himself and his grandmother. That mistake alone was a great sin, enough to bury their family’s name in a mountain of shame, but to think…

“Grandfather, would you like some tea?” Vonda asked, noting how the old man was trying to fall into a Rage Fever.

Jarot inhaled sharply, though tempered his heart, and he bowed his head. “If my granddaughter is treating me, how can this old fool refuse?”

Vonda smiled warmly, pouring the old man a cup of tea, and joined him to accompany him that evening, hoping her company was bright enough to deal with the darkness which crept within his heart. The half elf also stared at his grandfather, who was so full of the same grief, and he tensed up lightly.

Yet.

Soon.

The next morning, after being bullied by his children appropriately, the half elf stepped out to work. He stared down at the gifts he had received, those which he would begin enchanting, but as he eyed up the wood, he winced. The moment he started enchanting these items, there would be no going back.

It was a sin to enchant them, the half elf understood, but what was that to the sins he had already committed?

The half elf inhaled sharply, and after shamefully begging for forgiveness, he began to enchant the wood.

As the half elf committed a grave sin, those within his family enjoyed themselves as the week passed by.

“Do you wish to go?” Jurot asked.

“I don’t know…” Pam replied, brushing little Pamarot’s cheek gently. “I shouldn’t.”

“Aswadasad is a beautiful place,” Jurot said, and after the woman smiled awkwardly, he paused to think. “It has been many years since you left.”

“It has…”

“Have you ever been to Aswadasad?”

“…” Pam chewed on her inner lip. “Virot will take it poorly.”

“There are many who adore her,” Jurot assured, since she was her sister’s sister, her father’s daughter, and her kako’s niece.

Pam remained uncertain, all the while causing a storm within her husband’s heart.

“How should I spoil her?” Jurot asked later that evening, to the one figure who would know.

“Now that I think about it, I don’t really know,” Adam admitted, burying the darkness deep within his heart. “You could ask her dad.”

“It is awkward.”

“It is?”

“It is.”

“Oh.” Adam thought, considering Jurot’s words, then Pam’s behaviour, and finally glanced aside to his own wife, who teased her daughter, the girl cackling brightly, until she spotted her elder siblings and rushed towards the twins. “Then, tell her you’re going to take her along and that you’re going to spoil her.”

Jurot blinked. “I see.”

Was it really that simple?

“Brother?” Lanarot called one day, closing her book neatly, her face full of a great thought.

“Yes?”

“Can I be a mummy too?”

“When you are an adult, yes.”

“Do you think I will have lovely children?”

“You must work hard to have lovely children.”

“We always have to work hard…” Lanarot grumbled.

“Yes.”

Lanarot glanced up, taking in her brother’s sight, and thought deeply on his words. “Hmm…”

As the days passed by, the triplets prayed with their mother, the Iyrmen taught the eldest trio with great fervour, and little Jarot also joined them, while Jirot prayed lightly, trained lightly, and troubled heavily.

Vonda, unlike her daughter, prayed heavily, trained heavily, and troubled lightly, mostly teasing her husband, sometimes claiming him in the evening by resting her head on his shoulder, causing him to remain as still as a statue so she could rest against him, all the while the half elf smirked under the purple haze of evening.

It was that kind of life, but then, one day, on that day, the half elf broke the rhythm.

“Huh?” Jirot called, looking towards her father and her greatfather. Her eyes suddenly narrowed, and the girl readied her trouble, as though a bolt ready to loosen from the crossbow known as Jirot.

“I just need to speak with your greatfather, and we will both return soon.”

“You are not working today, daddy?” Jirot asked, suddenly disarmed of her bolt of trouble.

“I won’t.”

“Are you joking?”

“I’m not.”

“Babo, you must go, and if daddy is lying…” The girl brushed her hair behind her ear, and turned her head to say that she would not be looking, so it will be fine if he does what he should do.

“I will beat him well.”

“Oh. No. Babo. How can you say this.” Jirot’s tone was light, as though not believing her own words, and she shrugged her shoulders. “How can I stop it?”

Adam winced, though partly because he needed to remain serious if he was going to speak to his grandfather that day. It was towards the end of the month, and soon, they would be leaving, the month having passed by far too quickly, and now…

Jarot’s leg struck the earth as they stepped away, heading to a cabin prepared for them, all the while the half elf’s heart began to spike.

“You brat, making your grandfather walk so far,” the old man said, stepping into the small estate, with the half elf closing the gate, hiding themselves from the rest of the world.

There, at the table within the centre of the estate, several objects remained wrapped.

“Oh?” Jarot mused, approaching the table, dropping down at it, leaning against it with his arm, noting the shapes of the cloth. An axe, obviously, a shield, obviously, and two large boxes that could hold a great many objects, though knowing his grandson, a pair of swords.

Certainly.

What else could they be?

They were not swords.

They were two reasons as to why he might end up cutting his grandson’s neck.