Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

As the rumours spread like wildfire through the Iyr, shadows descended upon the estate, only to find greater shadows within. Most of the Iyrmen within the Front Iyr had been replaced, by those who were a touch stronger than its typical inhabitants, and though Elder Lykan had come across a few who could come to blows with him, he was still more powerful than most of them, and should they forget themselves, it was a small matter to take those who had not reached the rank of Paragon and to educate them once more of what land bore them, by those who held such a rank.

For those who had reached the rank of Paragon?

Did they think such a title would protect them from the Iyr?

“I came to see if the rumours were true!” called a fellow, whose tattoos were of a blue square surrounded by red six pointed stars, those of the Yah family. He wore a breastplate, a greatsword upon his back with a circular hilt, the blade itself slightly thinner than typical greatblades, a touch longer too. He was an older man, bald, with a thick beard that fell to his chest, whitened by time, his skin slightly darker than tan, his eyes sparkling brightly, almost as bright as his smile.

“Royah,” the Mad Dog called, holding the old man’s gaze within his fiery eyes, though reached out an arm as Royah clasped it, the fellow howling with laughter.

“I heard your arms and legs were returned to you!” Royah half exclaimed, and before the old man could complain, he reached out a hand and ruffled the twins’ hair. “How are our little Jirot and Jarot? Are you still causing trouble for your father?”

Jirot furrowed her brows at the old man, for though he may have spoken such words, his eyes were firmly fixated on her. “Just a little bit…”

Royah continued to howl with laughter, settling himself between a few of the other older Iyrmen, forcing them aside with his bottom, causing the older Iyrmen to complain, only causing him to laugh harder.

Almost all those of the oldest generation had come to visit, each also spotting the children within the old man’s arms, with the understanding if they dared to ignore the children, the Mad Dog would come for their necks, though some of them always greeted the children, for they were not any children. A few remained to talk with the Mad Dog, while others merely congratulated him, and greeted some of the others around before stepping away, taking with them questions that would remain unanswered for a few years, some which had already been answered, and some which should not be answered in such a time.

‘Do I know Royah?’ Adam thought, trying to recall who of the Yah family he knew, but as he tried to recall the one figure he had certainly met, another burst onto the scene like a storm.

“Mad Dog! Is it true?” shouted the grey skinned woman, the Iyrman charging forward. Her skin, wrinkled, her silver eyes full of joy, a green diamond on in the middle of her forehead, flanked by blue tilted diamonds, the woman adorned within a breastplate, and carried a pair of at her side. The young Iyrman beside her wore the same tattoos, a breastplate, and a pair of shortblades at his side, though his eyes seemed completely blank, quietly greeting the Mad Dog, his eyes snapping aside to the old man’s grandson instead, who sat to one side, beside his wife.

“Jahuk,” Jarot called, reaching out a hand to clasp her forearm, while the woman half slapped his back. “It is true?”

“You damned dog! To think I finally had the chance to defeat you and you had to go and do this?”

“Even with one arm and one leg, could I lose to you?”

“You could, but would you?”

Jarot’s lips formed an even wilder smirk, and as he was about to speak up, the woman beamed down at the twins within his arms.

“Little Jirot, little Jarot, I see you are accompanying your greatfather! Good! If you did not tame him, do you know how difficult my job would be?”

Little Jirot flushed, turning to look up at her greatfather. “Babo is so sweet and lovely.”

Jahuk blinked, and a raucous laughter filled the air, as the older Iyrmen could not help but laugh, for she spoke of someone who she did not know, though considering how the little girl also cackled so wildly with her brother, her eyes so vicious towards her greatfather, she certainly did know.

As the Mad Dog grumbled quietly, his grandson soon found a greyskinned figure standing opposite him, a wild grin upon his face, for though he was the Mad Dog’s grandson, it was Juhuk who had inherited such a wild spirit of the Iyrmen.

“I hear you are quite strong, grandson of the Mad Dog,” Juhuk said.

“No,” Jurot replied, simply.

Juhuk’s eyes then darted to the half elf, but as he stepped forward towards him, he stopped, his eyes slowly turning back to Jurot, who stood, letting out a troubled sigh, rubbing the side of his neck.

“I must read a book to my son, so I shall deal with you swiftly,” Jurot dared to said, allowing a yawn to slip through his lips.

As Juhuk’s body tensed and he reached down for his pair of blades, a strong hand grabbed him by the back of his neck.

“Juhuk, you brat, do you think you can leave your duties so easily?”

“Grandmother, it is you who brought me here!” the Iyrman retorted, as his grandmother dragged him away by the back of his neck, taking away his joy of facing Jurot or Adam, he probably would have settled for Kitool too, for he had the opportunity to speak with them all and request a bout.

“Why are you always getting yourself into trouble?” the woman grumbled, ruffling his hair, as the younger Iyrman flexed his muscles, rubbing the back of his neck. “It is bad enough you are beaten daily by everyone else, why must you bother those who can beat you so swiftly?”

“Who will know until we draw our steel?”

“You brat, do you think you can defeat either of the Mad Dog’s grandsons? You could not even reach his granddaughter, who, by your age, had slain a giant python.”

“Mad Dog this, Mad Dog that! Where was he? You already admitted it, didn’t you? It was not just his arm and his leg? That old cripple! Even with the return of his limbs, what can he do? He has been slow for too long! Even his-,” Juhuk stopped as the woman grabbed his face with a hand, instantly shutting him up.

“I cannot blame you, for you grew up during the time when the Mad Dog had lost his arm, and even recently, he lost his leg, and for all you know, it was some unknown warrior who appeared so suddenly.” Jahuk let out an awkward sigh, for her grandson was just that stupid. “Since you do not know, you would not understand. You grew up to hear his nephew’s tales, that of the Wyrmslayer Tonagek, but during your time, within the last decade, his hopes were dashed, so you may have forgotten him too?”

“Why must I recall the names of those who have chosen to hide their steel because of this or that?”

“I do not know of Tonagek’s circumstances, but I hear he has returned from his retirement,” Jahuk corrected, pinching her grandson’s nose, the young Iyrman who had gained his tattoos, and would soon set off.

“Then I shall remember his name, this Wyrmslayer,” Juhuk joked.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Even with one arm and one leg, this grandmother of yours would not be able to defeat him. Now? You should remember his stories at least, for they are only matched by his ridiculous grandsons, and only because his grandchildren are so special, and so favoured by the Iyr. Even Jurot, a Master at his age, has not reached even half of what his grandfather had achieved at his age, and among this generation of Iyrmen, it is he and Kitool who stand at the zenith.”

“I will accomplish all that and more, for he does not have such a fire!”

“Do you think you could do it? Do you think you could do what the Mad Dog could do? Mad Dog is to Aldland, what the Butcher is to Aswadasad, but even they you cannot compare. Butcher Marmak fought against injustice, but the Mad Dog, he went out because he wished to soak Aldland sanguine. Even the Butcher is not a good comparison, for the Butcher claimed his title many years after Mad Dog had already retired, though they both journeyed at the same time. You have no idea, you have not seen what I have seen. This Mad Dog, who refused to die, the young monster who we all knew would reign supreme in his generation, and yet retired in the Iyr so soon.”

“Though he lost that fire, I will not!”

“If you are able to slay as many nobles as he, to the point you are considered the greatest calamity, the greatest plague for such a group, and you can survive the aftermath as he had, then I shall consider your words seriously, but until then, you are but a fool who does not know his place!”

The young man laughed, reaching out to pat his grandmother’s shoulder. “I will show you, grandmother!”

“You must show the appropriate respect.”

“He should earn it!”

“You!” The woman grabbed his throat, choking the boy lightly, all the while he laughed, causing her to instead pinch his nose. “How many half dead, crippled Iyrmen do you know who can fend off the likes of Sun Sword Zachary?”

“Do not give to him that which the Bearded Dragon has earned.”

“That is right!” Jahuk said, threatening to beat her grandson senseless, holding up a fist. “It is the likes of the Bearded Dragon who can match the likes of a half dead Mad Dog! When you can defeat me, then I will allow you to face against one of them, then I will allow you to speak such a way!”

Juhuk laughed, though stopped as his grandmother hugged him, and he hugged her back, feeling her warmth spread through him.

“You should at least thank Baktu, for you will see him once more, the Mad Dog that I knew.”

“Then I will not step out for the rest of the year, and I shall wait to see.”

“You are not allowed to step out until you are an Expert.”

“I am close,” Juhuk replied simply, causing his grandmother to tilt her head in surprise. “Will you stop me?”

“The Iyr has said you may step out once you are an Expert, and I will not stop you.”

“I will wait until the Mad Dog returns, and then I will either put him in his place, or I will apologise, and then I will go.”

“I will tell him not to kill you.”

Juhuk laughed, though paused upon seeing his grandmother’s expression, which was only half certain the Mad Dog wouldn’t kill him, causing him to laugh once more, for perhaps the Mad Dog wasn’t so bad after all?

Jarot is him.