Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

“It’s going to be okay,” Adam whispered into Vonda’s ear, holding her hand. They sat to one side, in the shadows of the shared estate, each sipping their flavoured water, having finished their meal of potatoes and eggs.

Vonda glanced aside to her husband, intertwining her fingers with his. Since when had her husband kept such a keen eye upon her?

No, that was a silly statement, since it was Adam.

The real question was when did he learn to read her so well?

They watched the Family Heads greet the children, the nearby Heads already familiar to the children due to Sonarot often taking them out to play with the children of the other estates. They had all accepted that Sonarot viewed them as her own grandchildren, as was her right, though it was only now that many had come to accept the children as Children of the Iyr.

“Everything is changing,” Vonda whispered, squeezing his hand.

“Yeah.”

“I think it is for the better,” Vonda said, but there was something else within her voice. An apprehension for the unknown.

“It’s going to be okay,” Adam repeated, slowly nodding his head. He glanced aside to her, taking in the sight of her face for a moment, stopping himself from committing her face to memory so obviously, and instead glanced down towards her stomach, reaching down to rub it gently, feeling the movement within. “Are they still kicking?”

“They are.”

“How could you do that, you silly boy, you silly girl, how can you kick your mother like that?” Adam cooed to the stomach, feeling the movement against his hand. “Oh dear, oh dear, what a fool of a father I am, riling you up.”

Vonda rested her head against Adam’s shoulder, inhaling deeply as she dealt with the sharp pain of their child moving so harshly within her stomach. She was no stranger to blocking out the pain, though usually she was able to use her magic to heal herself, but with a child, it was awkward to use any magic.

Pam stared at the young woman from nearby, wearing a blanket over her shoulders, while her husband whittled away nearby, blowing the wood to one side, collecting the scraps and dust into a basket. He remained completely engrossed within his work, having shut off the world. Her eyes then fell to the children, who remained with their grandmother, and were showered in the attention of the various Iyrmen around. Little Jarot, who was so sweet and gentle, and used to love her bread, and Larot, who remained eerily silent.

“Okay?” called a gruff voice from beside her.

The young woman jolted slightly, glancing aside to the one armed, one legged Iyrman, who called the young woman his granddaughter. “Okay…”

“Do not be afraid to speak,” Jarot said, the old man sipping his milk, this milk more sour than any other milk he had drunk before, even though he had caused so much trouble for it.

“Okay…” Pam glanced aside to her father, who had recently returned back to the Main Iyr, though sat awkwardly to one side, unsure of what he should do. He had returned in order to remain near Pam for the birth of his second grandchild, but the thoughts of his face also focused on what to do in this situation. He stared at the children, with their green skin and amber eyes, still unsure of how to treat them. It was one thing to marry into the Iyr and accept half dragons as family, but another to accept goblins and a demon.

Pam pulled the blanket over herself. When she was pregnant the first time, the twins took such good care of her. Even during her current pregnancy, Jirot and Jarot made sure she was comfortable, but now, when they needed her, what could she do?

“What am I meant to say?” Bam eventually asked his daughter, his voice barely a whisper. “If it was Damrot, or Virot, I would understand, but…”

“Just say what you would say if Virot was killed.”

“She wouldn’t have been killed, she’s not…” Bam glanced aside slightly, shaking his head. He had half a mind to think the Iyrmen could hear him, but even so, he couldn’t help himself. “The Divine must be laughing at me.”

“Would Lord Sozain laugh at you? Mother Soza?” Pam asked, her eyes glaring at her father. “Adam’s children were killed. They’re Children of the Iyr now, I hear.”

“What does that mean?”

“They’re Iyrmen.”

“Iyrmen? Iyrmen aren’t…” Bam motioned a hand towards the children, who had been taken away to sleep. “No one can understand an Iyrman’s thoughts.”

“You should say your condolences, they’re still my husband’s nephews,” the young woman stated firmly.

Once Adam was done kissing his triplets goodnight, he carried Jirot and Jarot out to the nearby cabins, only to stop when he saw the tall, thickly built man. He had begun to grow a bit of a beard, the baker scratching it awkwardly.

“Your, uh…” Bam swallowed, eyeing up the half elf. He had heard the tales of the young man and his brother, his own son in law. If someone had told him that Jurot was aiming to become the Chief of the Iyr, it would have all made sense, though of course, considering his grandfather, it made sense that Jurot could kill a dragon. A dragonslayer, his own son in law? The baker glanced around the Iyr for a moment, avoiding the twins.

The Iyr. It was home to tales that were borderline fantasy. The reason he was within this land was because of Jurot marrying his daughter, but one of the driving forces behind such was the young man before him. The reason why his daughter possessed thousands of gold, was because of the half elf, who had paid the coin, even though Jurot could have spent the thousands of gold for the ridiculous dowry. He no longer had any worries for his daughter, who could live the rest of her life without worry of going hungry.

Bam looked down to the children, the green skinned goblins, with their leaf shaped ears, their shy amber eyes looking back up towards him. Once, a pair of those eyes held great mischief, but now? Bam felt his throat tighten, trying to find the words.

“Look,” Adam said, hoisting his children up slightly. “It’s Bam. Do you remember Bam?”

“It’s Pam’s daddy,” Jirot replied, glancing up at her father with a raised brow. “He is a baker.”

“Isn’t my daughter so smart?” Adam planted a kiss on her forehead. “How can you be so smart?”

“I remember,” the girl said, smiling slightly.

“Aye, I bake,” Bam said. “I…” Bam threw a look to Adam, slowly bowing his head. “I just wanted to say… if you need anything baked, you can ask me, and I will do what I can for the children.”

“I love kako’s bread, but your bread is nice too,” Jirot said, giving him a thumbs up, the girl’s eyes so innocent and sweet.

Bam smiled awkwardly, slowly nodding his head. “I taught my daughter well, then.”

“I am daddy’s daughter, and daddy is not teaching, he is always working.”

Bam smiled slightly. “A father should work hard.”

Jirot pouted, nestling her head against her father’s shoulder, groaning lightly. “Daddy is so smelly.” The girl jolted up slightly staring up at her father, who leaned down to kiss her forehead.

“Daddy is so silly, always working, but he’s working hard, right? So you should spoil daddy since he’s working hard,” Adam said, noting the guilt in his daughter’s eyes.

“Daddy…” Jirot pouted.

Bam glanced down at the boy, who was named after the one armed Iyrman who stood patiently nearby. “Good night.”

“Good night,” little Jarot replied, also retreating to his father’s chest.

Adam’s heart continued to ache, even as the last days of the month passed, and they welcomed the sixth month of the year, the last month of noonval. He had spent his days with his children, playing dragonchess, playing wallball, drawing, reading with his twins, and just sitting alone with Larot, who was often with Jazool. She was too young to understand why he had been missing for a few days, or why the aura within the Iyr had changed.

It was the last evening of the month, and while the one armed Jarot spoiled the twins, speaking of his tales, not mentioning any deaths, but rather speaking of all the figures he had met, from Flame Blade to even the likes of the Vice Commanders of the various Orders, Adam sat beside his youngest son. The red skinned boy blinked sleepily, thinking of nothing in particular.

“If there’s anything you need, let me know,” Adam whispered, rubbing the boy’s back gently. “I wish I could play with you all more. To walk the fields, lifting you up to my chest because you got tired. To kick the ball against a wall, and bring the cup of water to your lips because you’re parched. To draw alongside you, making sure you don’t eat the vibrant crayons. To read to you, until you finally yawn, and I can put you to bed. I wish I could give you all the life you deserve.”

The silence accompanied the pair into their thoughts.

Elder Zijin hadn’t expected him so soon, upon the start of the sixth month. It was too soon, and the half elf had not yet spoken to the people he needed to speak to. Even so, the half elf approached the Elder, who had already prepared it.

“No Churot?” Adam asked, noting the Elder was alone.

“No,” Zijin replied. “You are ready?”

“I’ve given Asorot his gift,” Adam confirmed, taking his seat opposite the Elder, smiling sadly. “This isn’t the kind of thing I can be ready for.”

What is he ready for?