Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

It is the hope of the elder generation that they struggle so the next may not. It is often the case the first generation struggles, the second generation benefit from the struggle but hear of it, while the third benefit from the struggle and dismiss it.

Sir Katherine had heard of Jarot years ago, when she was still in training. She had been young by the time Jarot’s rampage had truly ended, the young Iyrman almost disappearing into myth.

It was in every generation, dozens upon dozens of Iyrmen made names for themselves, but most did not force their story further than it naturally reached, even if it was suppressed. However, there were some stories which could not be suppressed, and every generation, there were always a few Iyrmen who breached further ahead, until they were brought into the stories to stop children from causing trouble.

Jarot was one such name.

Mad Dog. Bloody Jarot. The Crimson Shield.

Jarot had gained those nicknames, and many more, a rarity even among Iyrmen. Typically, one would gain a nickname, and it would stick, but sometimes, when the stories were still building, still passing through the various taverns, one would do so much, it was no surprise they gained several nicknames. 

All knew the name Mad Dog, for a name like that passed through the land like wildfire, but the name Bloody Jarot? The story behind that nickname? The name Crimson Shield? The story behind that nickname? The various other nicknames Jarot held and the stories behind them? There were only a few who realised they all belonged to the same man.

The Jarot. 

The Jarot who had gone around fighting the guard captains of so many nobles. The Jarot who had gone from region to region, fighting all that he could. He was not famous because he had defeated them, but because he had lost to so many. Jarot The Kid, they had called him originally. He was brash, a fool, and many dismissed him as one of the childish maniacs of the Iyrmen. 

Then, as the years passed, and not as many as one might expect, there were tales of Iyrmen going around doing their business, being Iyrmen. They slew countless creatures, fought against legends of the past, present, and future. 

Yet, of the Iyrmen, there were a few which spread across the land.

Drakebane.

Wildheart.

Deathhand. 

Mad Dog.

Three of those names went on to become the Great Elders of the Iyr, and although many assumed the Mad Dog would take the title of one of the Great Elders, they heard nothing of it. In fact, as Jarot rampaged across the land, eventually the tales of his defeats were surpassed by tales of his victories. Sometimes the tales had become muddied, for he had defeated so many great warriors and knights, many had no idea what was true and what was false. 

The tale of Jarot defeated the Eagle morphed into him defeating the Black Hawk, the Golden Hand, and even the King’s Sword. Although the last was not true, the rumours eventually manifested into truth, as eventually Jarot did go on to defeat the Black Hawk and the Golden Hand, but it had not been so at the time. Many have also forgotten the names of those Jarot had clashed with in his youth, while they themselves were up and coming. The likes of Flame Blade, several of those claiming the title of The Mighty, and so many others. The extent of Jarot’s rampage was known only to the Iyrman himself. 

It was Jarot’s fight against Seasword which had cemented his name in legend forever. Dane Seasword, the Seasword, who had gone to the northern island that only meant death, and had returned alive. Seasword was considered among the greatest of legends in his day, and he had beaten Jarot before he had earned the nickname of The Kid, but it was not The Kid who had returned not even a decade later, but an Iyrman by the name of Bloody Jarot, The Crimson Shield, and more famously, Mad Dog. 

Sir Katherine recalled Jarot’s name, for how could she forget, as someone who grew up in the era where his name was often spoken in hushed whispers. There was a rumour he had died, hence why he never appeared again, but there was another rumour while she was making a name for herself that Mad Dog, the Mad Dog, was seen again. He had gone east to kill a dragon, one of the craziest dragons in all the lands. 

Upon hearing the name of the Mad Dog, a vice commander by the name of Sir James Greatwood, had gone to meet the terrible figure known as Mad Dog, the pair having missed each other in their time, but when he had returned…

‘The Mad Dog is dead.’

It was all the vice commander said, and though Sir Katherine realised there was more to the statement than just that Jarot had died, a chill took within her heart. The Mad Dog was gone, lost to the winds of time. 

Except, in the last year, there were several tales which had spread through the land, like the plague which had almost destroyed the kingdom so long ago. That of Lord Asa, the fiery protector of Ever Green. That of a Blood Knight, or Blood Demon as some referred to him as. That of the Traitor King. That of a mad dog who had taken the arm of a vice commander of Black Moon. 

It was not the tale of a mad dog, but the Mad Dog. 

So when Jurot faced against one of the Experts of the outpost and seemed to struggle, barely able to land a blow with a mindless rage, it surprised Katherine. Was this boy not a grandson of the Mad Dog? Did the blood of the Mad Dog create such a disappointment.

It was only when Jurot stood over the fallen Expert when the Whirlwind Arrow realised. Jurot has beaten one of the elite members of their outpost as though he were chopping down a tree. It started off with a slow cut which did little to dissuade the Expert before, all of a sudden, Jurot came down upon him with a viciousness none had expected. 

Jurot growled quietly, having been pressed by the Expert in the early rounds, even to the point his neck had been cut. He felt the trickle of the hot blood pour down the side of his neck. He reached up to press his finger against it, feeling the warm liquid against his finger tip, before bringing it to his lips to lick it, tasting the iron. His eyes then fell to the commander of the outpost. 

‘What is he doing?’

“I wish to face one of your knights,” Jurot said. 

“You have already claimed a victory,” the commander replied, bowing her head lightly. 

“I do not mind defeat,” Jurot replied, simply, pressing the issue further. 

Marcia narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to show off, or if he just wanted to face against one of her knights. “Would you like to rest beforehand?”

“No,” Jurot replied. “My body is warm.”

Marcia wasn’t sure why Jurot was undermining her authority, but she turned to face one of her knights, a knight who could be considered a Master. “Sir Karen, if you would.”

Sir Karen stepped forward, adorned in her platemail, head to toe, while drawing her greatsword, which was no doubt magical. The knight bowed her head and Jurot returned the same respect. 

The pair clashed together, far more viciously than when Jurot faced the Expert. Sir Karen was no slouch, that was for certain, her magical greatsword rushing through the air, almost cracking it with her strength. 

Adam watched intently, trying to understand what Jurot was doing. His brother continued to clash with Sir Karen, the knight who seemed to be extremely powerful. Even though Jurot had fought the Expert to completion, this bout was a greater struggle for the Iyrman. 

‘What’s he doing?’ Adam thought, watching as the pair traded blows, axe against refined steel, greatsword against thick flesh. 

Sir Karen inhaled deeply, shrugging off the blow, realising this Iyrmen, who was hot red with rage, was not someone to be trifled with. Yet, she was one of Lady Marcia’s personal knights, one of the knights who was from a branching family, brought up as a knight to complete her duties for the main branch which spawned her family. 

The pair danced, with Sir Karen setting the pace, pushing through her limits to show the Iyrman a wall. It was a wall made of a knight which would put the young man in his place. Sir Karen, who could go toe to toe with some of the greatest warriors in the various orders, perhaps not the absolute top brass, but certainly those who would be contenders for vice commanders in the future. 

The magical blade clattered off the magical shield, but Adam couldn’t hear it. As Phantom struck across the knight, he couldn’t see it. 

‘What are you doing, Jurot?’

Sir Katherin watched with bated breath, her eyes piercing the two figures locked in combat. Sir Karen was someone she would have some difficulty facing against, surely she’d win, but it would take quite some effort. Yet the Iyrman was still clashing with her even after facing an Expert? She was certain the Iyrmen was around the level of an Expert, and yet he seemed to be holding on.

It was only the victor loomed over the defeated when a thought came to Whirlwind Arrow. 

‘Yes,’ she thought. ‘He is truly his grandson.’

I forgot how many chapters the party spend here.