Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

It was dark that night, the moon casting its ephemeral glow, the stars twinkling as though to taunt them, and the gentle noises of the night beasts relaxed their hearts.

“It’s so boring…” a soldier grumbled quietly.

“Say what you want, friend, but I’m rather fine with boring,” the second replied, letting out a soft yawn, cracking his neck to wake himself.

“To make silver so easily…” the soldier mused, letting out a sigh. “It’s just…”

“If you survive to the next year, it’s an additional ten silver a month, and another every single year beyond that too.”

“Ten silver a month, what’s that, a silver every three days or so?”

“Something like that.”

“Aye, something like that.”

“In twenty years I think, what, it’s double our wage?”

“Suppose so.”

“What other role lets you double your silver in twenty years?” The soldier turned towards his bored companion, who was busy taunting the world to change his boring life.

“I think, aren’t the Experts, aren’t they paid that much anyway?”

“Aye, Experts, they’re paid that much, not fodder like we,” the soldier stated firmly. “In case you’ve forgotten, you aren’t an Expert.”

“Yeah, well, one day, you’ll see, I’m going to be an Expert, and then I’ll make thirty gold a month, and then forty, and then fifty, and then when I become a Master, a hundred gold each month, and I’ll make sure they pay me another one hundred every season, and I’m going to have a wife for every day of the week.”

“Three gold a day isn’t enough for afford seven wives.”

“Three gold, really?”

“It might be close to four, but it’s still three and some silver.”

“Oh… I suppose I’ll just have three wives then?”

The soldier turned to his companion.

“Two.”

“Aye, you’ll become a Master, and I’ll become the King’s Sword.”

“I’m more likely to become a Master than you becoming a King’s Sword at least.”

“I reckon they’re equally as likely.”

However, before the soldier could reply that it was not a nice thing to say, it began.

The horns blasted through the forest, awakening a great many night beasts, the fluttering of wings echoed, the chittering and chattering of a great many tiny things, and also those within the walls.

The soldiers gasped, clasping their spears tight in hand, their hearts thrummed.

The shouts began to echo through the trees, and then the beating of the drum, and as the yells filled the world, the soldiers gathered themselves, those from within their tents strapping on their armour, all the while the various Officers tried to understand the situation.

“What’s going on?” called an Officer.

“Tribesfolk?” one replied with uncertainty, but clutched their blade in hand as they leapt onto the walls, where they tried to stare out into the tree line around them, the fort having cleared roughly a hundred paces outward.

“Iyrmen!” shouted a great voice, of the Commander, and they spoke it in the Aldish tongue, so they would understand. “The soldiers of Aldland have committed the greatest sin!”

The Iyrmen roared, clattering their weapons upon their shields, armour, and into the world, for the soldiers should know, there were at least one Iyrman for every soldier.

A figure cast a shadow upon the moon, and as he landed, he stood suddenly, and standing a hundred paces away from her, the enemy Commander, cloaked in darkness. The enemy Commander approached him, her warriors still hollering and hooting behind her, as the Aldish Commander stepped forward to greet her, and once they were but forty paces away, they stopped.

“Iyrmen!” the Aldish Commander exclaimed. “Explain yourself at once, or you shall find my steel at your neck!”

“It was you Aldish who turned your steel upon our children,” came the response of the Commander, who undid her hood to reveal her beautiful face, her eyes, dark, and full of fury. “It is you, Aldishmen, who must pay the price.”

“To think you Iyrmen would still consider the matter from so long ago, and would still speak of such drivel before me,” the Commander growled. “Is it your heathen Lord who grants you such courage?”

“It was but days ago,” Mikan replied.

“What?”

“Surrender,” Mikan stated, as though the word was a sickness upon her tongue, but the next words, they came to her easily, “or die.”

“Ah?” The Aldish Commander smiled, and as he drew his sword, it glowed under the moonlight, and there, he stared at his reflection for a moment, noting the scar he had received from an Iyrman whose name he had never forgotten, though who had, like a coward, died before he could gain his vengeance. “If you wished to shed blood, you merely needed to ask!”

Mikan, once more, was glad the Aldish were incapable of learning.

“Steel Swords Fifth Company!” the Commander shouted, and the soldiers upon the walls shouted out a nothingness into the void, preparing their crossbows. “For the King!”

“For the King!”

Then there came a wild cry, not for a King, or for their Lord, but for the rage which festered within their hearts, and those who were unable to step forward for the children years ago, were able to step forward today, and the Iyrmen finally loosened like arrows from strained quivers, those which had been strained for years, charging past the two Commanders, as the arrows threatened to blot out the moon.

“To think you would come to me of your own will!” the Commander exclaimed, and he leapt forward into the fray. The Commander already knew what to expect, for this was not the first Iyrman he had fought, and not the last he would kill, as steel rung against steel, and the soldiers behind him continued to fire their bows.

Wielding her greatblade in both hands, Mikan, as a Kan, swung wildly, and though the Commander stepped back, wincing from the might of the blow, his own blade struck forward, and sanguine slipped down the woman’s neck.

‘Nano, I going to forgive you, just this once, okay?’

‘No,’ Mikan thought, her blade threatening to tear through steel. ‘I shall return with his head, and then you may forgive me, my sweet children.’

I wonder who will win?