Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

“I would like to request a spar,” the young Iyrman said, who wore full plate, and carried at his side a beautiful sword, well made, formed of silversteel, the guard formed in the shape of a sun, and upon the pommel, an etching of a rose.

“If the young Iyrman wishes to spar, I will be honoured,” the Commander said with a heavy heart, for it was awkward to refuse, when there were several others who held similar tattoos, each older, one of whom was certainly the one known as Duteous Dogek, another someone who had made a name for himself eastward, and another, between the youth and the elders, one whose name would one day rise to hold the same heaviness.

“My name is Tanagek,” Tanagek said, holding out his blade in front of him, wielding a shield tightly in hand. Adorned in full plate and a shield, a magical shield at that, the young Iyrman was a wall of steel, one full of confidence.

“It is…” the Commander began, only to recognise the name, and suddenly he gripped his blade tighter in hand, and raised his shield a touch higher. “I am Commander Dana, and I hope not to disappoint.”

“I have heard of your skill from my cousin,” Tanagek replied, gripping his blade slightly tighter in hand, feeling its great magic slip through him, and his heart swelled, drunk upon its power.

“Your cousin?”

“Jurot,” Tanagek replied. “My father and his mother are siblings.”

“It seems the duties upon your shoulders are heavy.”

“Are they as heavy as yours, Commander?”

‘What a terrifying young man,’ the Commander thought, with the understanding that, perhaps, his duties were also quite as heavy as his own. To think he was related to that monster known as Jurot, and not just that, but he had inherited the name of Hadi Tanagek, he whose name still echoed even today.

A young Iyrman stood to one side, her arms crossed. Jurot had already fought the Commander, and Tanagek and Chosen had both claimed victories upon their journey thus far, yet, she had yet to show off in front of her nieces and nephews?

“To think he has stepped forward when it was obviously your turn,” Chosen said, as though able to hear the thoughts that were within her mind, and yet so distant upon her face.

Kitool assumed he was just teasing, not realising how he had struck to the core of the situation.

Tanagek inhaled sharply, and with that, he burst forward, the ringing of steel filling the air as he clashed with the Commander. Yet, the Commander, who had replayed the fight he had with Jurot every night since it had occurred, returned a great enthusiasm. It was he who was a Commander of Aswadasad, and was tasked with making sure the seas and the land were safe, from the vagabonds who roamed the land, the pirates who sailed the seas, and if it ever came to it, to the Iyrmen who would paint the land with a sea of red.

Thus he could not allow the Iyrman to misunderstand.

Tanagek slid backwards, raising his shield as the Commander brought his blade down with the greatest of force, threatening to break his shield, the young Iyrman glad it was magical. He burst forward to meet the Commander’s magical steel with his own, and though the young Iyrman was spurred by the Commander’s great strength and skill, as the Commander’s blade fell upon him, denting his plate, he realised he was not afforded the luxury of holding back, and thus his blade swung through the air, and the Commander brought up his shield, only to find the blade had become almost a ghost, shimmering from one angle to another, towards the crack of his visor. The Commander quickly pulled away, panting for air, though as he did, the blade clipped the side of his knee, managing to even slip through the smallest chink of his armour, and the Commander rolled to one side, as he did, swung his blade to one side, sweeping through the air, causing Tanagek to leap over him, and the two spun to meet one another once more, their magical steel clashing once more.

The young Iyrman finally managed to gain the upper hand, and though the Commander shrugged off the ache within his bones, after they clashed once more, the ringing of steel filling the air, the Commander eventually stepped back, still healthy enough to fight, but the clash had lasted longer than either had expected.

“It was a good fight,” Tanagek said, meaning it truly, but his heart ached, for he had been upon the back foot for the longest time, and though there was a moment he had managed to force the Commander back, going so far as to use his family’s techniques, he had been unable to press the Commander truly.

“I apologise for stepping back,” the Commander replied, though did not explain why, for within his heart, though he had managed to hold the upper hand, the fight had lasted long enough, he may as well called it his defeat. “I see how are you related to Duteous, the Silver Sword of the Wastes, and Wyrmslayer, and I shall await to hear of your grand epithet.”

Shagek straightened a little upon hearing his title, for finally, someone had heard of his title. In the previous year, when he had slaughtered, an Aldishman of some repute, the kind to take the title of Vice Commander, it had been a small regret the Aldishman hadn’t known the depths of his folly.

However, such were the Aldish.

“I am but half the warrior of my father, and a quarter of my granduncles,” Tanagek replied, for once, praising his father so overtly, causing his ears to grow red, glad he was still wearing his helmet.

“My son is too humble, for he is at least two thirds the warrior I am,” Tonagek stated with a straight face, without a hint of humour, even suppressing the twinkle within his eyes. His son, having claimed victory over one Commander, and then caused another to request a draw, each at least a decade older, such was more than enough for this journey.

‘I thought the Iyr’s love for it’s children was pragmatism, but it seems…’ the Commander thought.

The drunkenness within Tanagek’s heart shifted to another poison, for even with such a fine blade, he was unable to claim victory. ‘I should not have allowed the blade to cloud my mind. No, I should not have failed the blade, which my nephew had worked so hard to design for his weak uncle. At the very least, I should bring less shame than Cho.’

“Do not think so ill of me, not when I lost a gold to a soldier,” Chosen grumbled, noting the awkwardness of Tana’s face. “I suppose, I should step forward to face another, or do you wish to, sister Kitool?”

“This fight was enough,” Kitool said, then she glanced down towards the pout of her cousin, the girl’s eyes expectant. However, she came across the icy wall known as Kitool, who reached down to ruffle her hair, causing Lanarot to side eye her, but since she had showed her brother mercy in the tournament years ago, she forgave her cousin.

Just this once.

The Commander was glad the Iyrmen showed him such a mercy, hoping they would continue to show such throughout the land, though seeing as who was among their company, and seeing as the Iyr had even sent those who wore such attire which hid even their tattoos, the Death Swords, he could only feel the oppression of the Iyr. He had heard that a few years ago, the Iyrmen had slaughtered a great many of the soldiers to the north for daring to step into the magical forest which had bloomed, but they hadn’t even sent any Death Swords, for that was merely for pleasure, he supposed.

It was only after speaking to the Shaman he realised it had been she who had been tortured by the military, and not only that, but that she had been related to the Great Elder, perhaps the second most terrifying, Elder Peace.

‘Lord Noor, deliver us to safety,’ Commander Dana thought.

Kirot placed a hand on Tanagek’s, the girl peeking up to look at her uncle’s face. “Papo?”

“Yes?”

“You are not eating?”

Tanagek blinked down at his porridge, and through his awkwardness, did not feel hungry. “I am not-,”

“Tana,” Chosen threatened, his eyes holding a sudden sharpness, a rare glare from he to his best friend.

Tanagek paused a moment, considering why the Iyrman was looking at him so, but then he heard the gentle sigh of his nephew from nearby, and Tanagek glanced aside to see the boy drinking from his gourd. Even as the old Mad Dog tried to feed the boy from his hands, the boy buried his head to his babo’s chest, and the old Mad Dog surrendered, pampering her greatson with affection.

The Heart of the Silver Son cleaved through the air, glittering under the moonlight, all the while Tonagek watched his son fight the terrible thoughts which had claimed his heart.

‘You should have won,’ Tanagek thought, cursing himself, gripping his blade so tightly he almost spilled his own blood.