Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

The glow of evening light basked the estate, accompanying those who drank their tea, and ate their desserts, save for one girl, who did not wish to eat anything for the rest of her life.

“Kal, did you know?”

“Know what?”

“My daddy is the strongest.”

“He is?”

“He is.” The girl sat up taller, knowing her father would not return soon, for he should have arrived at the distant estate recently, and he would wish to speak with the warriors, allowing her some time to speak of him without the wish to bully him. “My daddy is the strongest.”

“How strong is your father?” Vadim asked, noting the look within the girl’s eyes, of such pride, such adoration, those amber eyes glistening in such a way, a way that reminded him of Hakam when he was but a boy, for the boy had not feared the old man’s appearance, having grown up alongside him from birth.

“Mm…” The girl closed her eyes in thought for a moment. “My daddy has only been defeated by my great grandfather, and by someone that is like Lord Asa, the Hearth of Floria.”

“The Mad Dog defeated your father?”

“My great grandfather is the strongest,” Jirot declared, her lips forming a wide smirk, for she possessed such pride for her family, and she knew she was one of them, and would also one day claim such from the lips of the children of the future, perhaps her own, perhaps her nieces and nephews, those of her brothers and sisters, those of her cousins, those of the Rot, those of the Gaks, and those who walked all about her, from the Ools to the Kans, the Geks and the Sens.

‘The Hearth of Floria,’ Vadim thought, having heard of the legendary warrior, who had been the reason as to how Floria had somehow managed to claim independence from Aldland. It was he who as figure considered among a legendary being, like the creature who defended the capital of Aldland, or even the likes of the great sea creatures, Great Urkina, to only name one.

“My mummy is stronger, because not even my great grandfather can defeat her,” Jirot said, motioning towards her mother, smiling up with even great pride, but it was not just pride, but pure joy for her mother, the woman who was currently keeping the triplets company, each of them speaking of this and that, feeding their mother, and in return accepting food from her fingers.

“I do not know how strong your father is because I have not yet heard of his tales.”

“I will speak the tales when daddy returns, but do you know? My daddy, he wears armour, and he wears a shield, and he wields an axe, because he is Rot, but he did not go with his armour, he did not go with his shield, and he did not go with his axe, because my daddy, he is strong, and he will not lose, even without his armour, even without his shield, even without his axe, because my daddy is my daddy, and my daddy? He is the strongest.” Jirot held up her hand, and she clenched it into a fist, declaring the words even to Kal Vadim the Chimera, who Chosen had informed her of, and she had quickly read all she could of the man, and even to him, she would speak the words, for that was how much she loved her father, as long as he did not hear her words.

‘She is so charming…’ Vadim let out a soft sigh, for though he was burnt as he was, he was still not a man with green skin or amber eyes, and yet, could he treat her as one might treat a creature with green skin and amber eyes, especially when those around her were more terrifying than him in his prime. He had no idea that those who looked like bavwa could possess such intelligence. If he recalled correctly, did she not tell him she had begun to learn the language only a year ago?

Less?

It seemed as though the half elf surrounded himself with beings who would constantly surprise him, and this old man, whose heart had beat so furiously to allow him to grow as powerful as he had, shuddered at the thought of learning more about this world he had never dared to step into.

It was upon the return of his grandson in which he realised that would not stop, for his grandson seemed so meek, his eyes as though he had stepped onto the battlefield, this young man who had almost gone out to war against the Reavers, if not for the old man’s threat to kill himself to see his children first, so he could welcome his grandson shortly after.

“I hope my daughter didn’t bully you too much, akh al’jid?” Adam called, smiling innocently, as though he did not force them to undergo an existential crisis.

“Your daughter’s words are almost as vicious as your axe,” Vadim joked. “Though it seems you did not take your axe, and yet I am certain, from words one had spoken, you would not lose, for she believes you cannot lose.”

“I wonder who spoke such words…” Adam said, looking directly at Jirot, whose eyes just so happened to stop at this and that, her cheeks flushing red. “Then, perhaps you can guess who it was I defeated with only these fists of mine, and, of-, and, undoubtedly, one should not forget, this magic granted to me by Baktu, Lord Sozain, the Lord of Death.”

“If it’s you, Mo, it must be someone like the Radiant Blade or such?”

Adam’s lips twitched slightly. “Even I would not be so foolish to face the Radiant Blade without my armour, my shield, nor my axe, though, with them, I would be able to defeat her twice over in one evening, for I would defeat her with my axe, and not allow even her steel to force me back, and once she was done with her assault, I would beat her so brutally, she would not understand, and I would stop the bout, and request those around to heal her, and then once she had understood the mercy I possess, I would beat her again, to show her how heavy my axe is, and though I would wish to beat her thrice, the Amira would request mercy, and it would be granted because my grandmother’s heart is large, and I would show it, and I would bring her back from the brink of unconsciousness, and, if she has learnt her lesson, she will not look at my children with such a glare, and she would not look upon my granduncle with such a glare, and should she not learn her lesson, I will draw my axe once more, and I will beat her well.”

Vadim held the half elf’s gaze, noticing how the half elf had riled himself up, a menacing grin upon his lips, though it did not reach his eyes, which smouldered with such fury, until finally he relaxed, letting out a soft sigh.

Vadim was certain he was not speaking of a hypothetical future…

“It was not her, but Scholar Half Sword I defeated today, without my armour, without my shield, without my axe.” Adam smiled, as innocent as his daughter, as though he hadn’t revealed what he had done to Radiant Blade, beaming so bright, it was as though he was radiant.

“Scholar Half Sword?” Vadim’s brows reached the sky, for Scholar Half Sword and he had crossed paths when they were younger, at a time when he, Vadim, the Chimera, had been able to claim victory, for he was the warrior’s senior by half a decade, and also, though Scholar Half Sword was talented, he was only as talented as he, and so had been five years behind his own blade, allowing him to claim victory. It was these memories the girl had spoken to her father as the old man had thought them, and his eyes fell upon the girl once more, for she knew far too much, and such was dangerous for her, though he supposed the world was already so dangerous for her.

“Whether or not Scholar Half Sword is talented, you don’t have to worry, for though I know his apprentice is talented, what did they call him? The Half Scholar Sword? Even if he’s talented, your grandson will certainly surpass him now that he is within my sights!” Adam laughed, reaching out to pat the old man’s shoulder, before realising he would hurt him, so he held out his fist. “Akh al’jid, come with us, and leave your grandson in my care, and I promise you, the name Hakam the Chimera will one day claim the land.”

“What good is the name Chimera, he should possess a greater name,” Vadim replied, letting out a gentle sigh. “If you cannot even allow him to claim a greater name, can I entrust my grandson to you?”

“I will ask my daughter to come up with a name for him, and for her to consider what kind of enchantment would suit him best, and my son will also design a sword for him, you don’t have to worry, akh al’jid.”

Vadim smiled, and with that he sighed, and tried to excuse himself, but the half elf made sure someone prepared a room for him here, much to the servant’s chagrin, but they did not refuse him, for the Amira would be displeased if they displeased him.