Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

‘What are you doing?’ Rory thought, his eyes wide as the young woman caught the blade of the Primrose Sword.

“Young lady,” the Primrose Sword called, feeling the strength of the young woman before her. “Do you intend to involve yourself?”

“Have you forgotten because I am wearing my helmet?” the Iyrman replied, clashing with the Primrose Sword.

‘Your horns are the prettiest, kako,’ she had said.

‘So beautiful,’ he had confirmed.

The Primrose Sword stepped back, feeling the pressure of the Iyrman before her. The Grand Commander was barely able to contain the young woman’s blade as the Iyrman soared forward, her blade filled with the rage of an Iyrman. There was one reason why she could be glad to be facing the Iyrman before her, because out of the two women, she was definitely the weakest.

The sound of a bubble bursting filled the air, as Jurot returned back to the land, arriving right beside Timojin and the Honeysuckle Sword, the Iyrman tensing up for a moment, before he spun on his heel to face the King once again, only to find the King stepping back away from the woman.

She was lean, her hair cut short, darker than Jurot recalled. Her eyes were darker too, not just her pupils, but the bags under her eyes, but even though she looked as though she had marched a hundred miles to the fort, her eyes remained focused upon the King. If not for the staff within her hands, she was certain she could not have brought Jurot back from his banishment.

Tigerstaff

You gain a +2 bonus to attack and damage rolls made with this weapon.

Deals 2D6 bludgeoning damage.

Contains 3 charges. Spend 1 charge to make an additional attack. Regains 1D3 charges every dawn.

‘Kako, you can help me?’ the boy had asked, trying to add the numbers together. He had asked her, because his sister had asked her, and the reason why his sister had asked her was because she knew that this particular aunt was smart, much to their horny aunt’s annoyance.

The King was glad he had healed himself before stepping towards Adam, otherwise he was certain he would have fallen. He, who barely fought Jurot and Kitool, had almost fallen to the two young Iyrmen.

“You are late,” Amokan joked.

“Be quiet,” Kitool snapped back, still glaring at the King, her heart beating quickly, her eyes heavy. Her body was still suffering from the after effects of the treatment, the woman only able to stand so firmly against the King due to the rage which overwhelmed her. It had only been a few days since they had learnt of the situation, and she had refused to see her nephews and her niece before she had saved their father.

“Who dares to harm my grandson?” The woman asked, slamming the butt of her spear against the stone floor, causing most of the fighting to waver, but it was not her voice which stopped the fighting.

“Put away your spear,” Elder Peace demanded, her voice heavy, full of authority. “You have no right to fight here today.”

“I-,” Mulrot said, only for the blades clashing to cut her off.

All had stopped fighting, except a single pair. It was not even the pair one might have expected, for Bael paused, glancing aside towards the young woman with the sword, who stood beside the other young woman, Adam’s grandmother. The blade crackled with great power within her hand, though she had yet to step forward, watching her grandniece take on the Grand Commander of an Order.

“Duteous Dogek, you have no right to-,” Even though Elder Peace was going through the theatrics, and even though typically, of all the Iyrmen they had brought, Dogek should have obeyed, she watched as he so viciously assaulted the Sky Commander with his blade in hand. Except, that wasn’t the only thing wrong about the situation, but it was Tonagek who had noticed it first.

Even now, Jaygak wielded a sword and shield, as was the way of her family. Even Gangak, who wielded Stormdrake in hand, wore a shield upon one arm, ready to step forward to fight. Tonagek wielded a blade in hand, and carried with him a shield, which had assisted him against Sir Hugo, who had stepped back in the pause.

Dogek, who was like his grandfather, not just an Iyrman, but the personification of an Iyrman, to the point he had earned a similar nickname to his grandfather, wielded his blade in both hands.

“You have no right!” Dogek shouted back, still battering the Sky Commander, who could barely defend herself with her blade.

“Uncle!” Tonagek shouted out, taken by the shock of seeing his uncle completely battering the Sky Commander, the Grand Commander of the Order of the Eagle Wing.

Dogek paused for a moment, while someone chanted a spell, though none of the Iyrmen seemed to react to the spell casting. “You have no right.”

“Granduncle,” Jurot called.

“You…” Dogek paused, daring not to speak the words to Jurot. He continued to hold his blade against the Sky Commander’s, who panted with effort, her entire body aching, sweat dripping through her clothing as she stared up at the terrifying form of the heavily armoured Iyrman.

Jarot remained silent, his eyes glued to Dogek, the same as almost everyone else, save for the figure who had failed to revive the First Vice Commander, or the apprentice, but even they didn’t dare to speak of that matter.

The Orders gathered the scene before them.

The Sky Commander, at the mercy of an Iyrman who had suddenly appeared, not just any Iyrman, but Duteous Dogek, whose name was almost as known as the Mad Dog’s.

The appearance of the Platinum Shield, which had been brought back by Silver Shield Edith’s magic, though the elderly bald woman remained standing over her, her fists at the ready.

Even Shaool had been surprised that the Platinum Shield had fallen so easily to her ability, for the chances were extremely slim, at most one in ten, with all the Oathsworn around amplifying their defences. Even so, she was ready to kill the woman if she dared to act up.

The Primrose Sword slowly lowered her blade, as the trio of old women approached the half elf.

Mulrot brushed through Adam’s hair. “Okay?”

Adam panted, furrowing his brows in confusion, allowing the woman to brush his hair. “Yeah.”

Seeing that the situation had calmed, slightly, Elder Peace cleared her throat. “It is unacceptable that you have come to fight, especially you, Duteous.”

“I have given up my position as Family Elder,” Mulrot replied.

“I, too, have given up my position as Family Elder.”

Even though Elder Peace already knew that the pair had given up their position, it still surprised her that Dogek had chosen to give it up. It made sense for Mulrot to do so, since she was full of guilt, especially considering which of the children had been killed.

“Have you given up your position?” Elder Peace asked.

The last Iyrman remained silent. He was old, tall and lean. His head was smooth, freshly shaved that morning, his thick moustache white as snow, hiding his lips, while his long beard fell down to his collar bone, cut straight. The typical aura of gentleness which emanated from him held a murkiness that his sister hadn’t expected. Upon his back, he wore a spear, the tip mithril.

‘You do not have to worry,’ Malfev had assured his sister. ‘I know I cannot fight.’

Except, right then and there, seeing the scene before him, his sister willing to risk her life, his grandnephew upon his knees, could he step back?

“He has come to return my body,” Mulrot said, in a tone that warned her brother not to embarrass the Iyr in front of the Aldishmen.

“If he does not step forward, I will remain to one side,” a voice dared to break the silence. It was Bear Mother who, took a step forward, beside Malfev. ‘I see now why you were so proud of your sister.’

Malfev let out a sigh, nodding his head, glad that she had spoken up. It was a way for both of them to step back from a fight, one he was not allowed to partake in, and one she did not wish to partake in.

Mulrot stepped forward, striking her spear against the stone floor with each step. She ignored the Order member who had tried to bring the dead pair back to life. “Are they the two who killed my greatsons, and harmed my greatdaughter?”

“Yeah.”

“You did well, my grandson,” Mulrot said, a small smile appearing on her face, the woman dropping onto her knees before Adam, wrapping her arms around his head, pulling him to her bosom as she would the twins. “You can leave now. We will handle the rest.”

“Do you think you can leave so easily?” Vice Commander Harrison asked, panting, though in his heart he had doubts he could truly defeat Amokan before him. He also noted that the one armed woman beside Adam was glaring at him in particular, for obvious reasons.

“Who can stop my grandson from leaving?” Mulrot asked, the woman noting how her husband was on the edge of bursting into laughter.

Upon hearing the woman’s words, Dunes sheathed his blade. He looked at his opponent, who stared at him, eyes full of confusion, partly offended. Dunes shook his head lightly, certain that there would be no more bloodshed today.

“We cannot allow it,” Sun Sword said, bowing his head apologetically. “I have a duty to the Order of the Thousand Hunts, as promised to their Grand Commander.”

“Even if that fool was here himself, he could not stop us,” Mulrot replied, doing her best to keep herself calm, bringing her grandson’s head to her neck. “No one can harm my grandsons now that I am here.”

“Hmm,” Jarot growled quietly, glancing aside.

“Jurot, come.”

Jurot sheathed his axe, but kept a tight grip upon his shield as he walked through the fort, the figures all around him allowing him to walk through. Their focus was mostly upon the older Iyrmen, who held a presence that they could not ignore.

“Unlike your grandfather, you fought so well,” Mulrot said, brushing through the boy’s hair, smiling so proudly.

“I held the Sun Sword at bay.”

“Are you comparing the Sun Sword to King Merryweather?” Mulrot asked. “Even Dogek dealt with a second rate Grand Commander so well! Sun Sword? Sun Sword? Rajin, do you believe the words?”

“I do not.” Rajin agreed, his voice barely a whisper.

“You beat him yesterday, but today you cannot?”

Jarot huffed quietly, while the Sun Sword remained silent, understanding the kind of woman who could tame the Mad Dog.

However, the Orders were quickly gathering themselves, readying for the fight to come. The Iyr’s antics had provided a moment of respite, but soon, it would come to pass. This was merely the calm before the storm.

King Merryweather sheathed his blade. “Chief, you must explain yourself.”

Iromin brushed his beard, having kept an eye on who had dared to act and react to the Iyrmen, before he finally stepped forward, the Iyrman walking out towards the scene without any aides.

“Florians, Aldishmen, you should feel reassured,” Iromin said, the Iyrman smiling warmly. “I can guarantee that, without permission to kill you for the sake of our dead children, we are unable to draw our blades.”

It was today when the land understood the sheer audacity the Iyrmen held, for the Chief walked through the fort as though he was not under the threat of a dozen or so Orders for the murder of two of their knights, upon the land which was guaranteed by King Merryweather, the King Merryweather.

“Though, I will not refuse if you wish for us to draw our blades,” Iromin said, nestling his arm between the hilt of his blade and his hip, his blade, a fusion of bone and metal, ready to sing.

The Iyr may be outnumbered and outmatched, but you can’t call them divided.